Page 39 of A Moth to the Flame (Utopia #1)

Somehow, in the deepest recesses of my mind, I know that’s not right. This creature reeks of malevolence like folklore of the cryptid, but it doesn’t look like a moth. I’m increasingly convinced that this otherworldly being has the power to grant me my greatest desires if I get on my knees and beg.

So that’s what I’m gonna do.

I turn off the truck. I unbuckle my seatbelt. I open the driver’s side door, and I climb down from the cabin of the truck. I approach the creature on steady feet that aren’t my own.

He can fix this for us. He can fix everything that’s wrong in my entire life. I’m sure of it.

The creature calls to me in a soothing series of clicks and hums, almost like a fantastical version of Morse code.

I don’t know Morse code, but its otherwise indecipherable language doesn’t elicit impending doom.

No SOS to be found. Only curling wings that beckon me closer, offering comfort in their velvety embrace.

I’m so close—so close—to the promise of sweet relief, when I’m tackled out of the blue.

I blink out of my trance long enough to see my own body panting above me.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Duke hisses, my eyes wild with unmistakable fear.

“He can help us,” I croon, reaching up to smooth several wayward curls off my forehead. “Don’t be frightened. He doesn’t want to hurt us. I can tell.”

Duke opens my mouth, then snaps it shut and glances over my shoulder. “Fuck.”

He springs to my feet with athletic grace that I didn’t know my body possessed.

“Who are you?” Duke shouts with my voice. “ What are you?”

A strange cacophony of clicking and hissing noises that sounds nothing like what I heard before breaks through the ringing in Duke’s ears. I prop myself up on his elbows, only to see the creature and my body circling each other warily.

The bat-like man gestures toward Duke almost as if he’s trying to explain something .

Duke shakes my head to indicate he doesn’t understand a thing this thing is trying to communicate.

“Stay away from her,” he demands. “If you wanna pick a fight, then you’ll have to go through me first.”

Even through the trance that hasn’t quite relinquished its claws from my mind, I’m floored.

Duke Castellaw is protecting me, likely with his life.

But in my body.

“Duke Atholl,” I warn as I slowly come back to myself. “You’re currently without your army. We don’t even have Granny’s sword with us. Don’t pick a fight that my body can’t possibly win.”

“Gingersnap,” he calls over my shoulder, never once breaking his gaze from the creature’s.

“We’re still in each other’s bodies, and we don’t really know why or how to fix it.

Something odd is going on in our hometown, and not just with us.

My aunt told me that my daddy isn’t my real father.

I don’t know about you, but I’m done fucking around.

If this Mothman wannabe is looking for a fight, then I’m itching to blow off a little steam. ”

It should be the least of my concerns in the midst of such a terrifying situation, but Duke’s words slap me upside the muddled head.

Mr. Castellaw isn’t his father? What in the seven hells?

“You ever heard of clothes, you overgrown bat?” Duke taunts the still-circling monster. “I don’t want your dick assaulting my eyeballs. You’re gonna give me nightmares.”

It’s the worst possible response, but I laugh. The only thing Duke has in his current arsenal is word weapons. I’m well acquainted with those, but he’s not directing them at me this time. He’s using them to defend me.

The weapon between the thing’s legs bobs with every step it takes, and I shudder.

That cock should never go anywhere near a woman.

It really does look like it could cause serious damage.

Like the rest of the creature, it’s not quite human enough to be compatible.

It’s bulbous at the base in a way that reminds me of all the omegaverse stories that I used to read.

This thing isn’t a werewolf, though. It’s not covered in hair or even remotely canine-like.

I don’t think it intends on mating with either of us even though it’s standing at attention in more ways than one.

It continues to circle and click and grunt, communicating through fanged teeth with a grotesquely long tongue that flickers out when it makes certain sounds.

It suddenly darts around Duke, who meets the pivot with speed that shouldn’t be possible on my short, curvy legs.

“The fuck you will,” he grunts as he blocks the monster’s advance.

The creature and Duke parry with their bodies in place of swords, an ebb and flow of striking, retreating, and redirecting. Their violent dance would resemble a typically male pissing contest, but Duke doesn’t have his dick out.

Maybe only because I’m currently in possession of it.

“Cordie, run ,” Duke pants as he throws my arms wide to block the thing’s next advance. “Get back to the truck.”

“No,” I bite out as I finally shake off the vestiges of my daze and rise to his feet. I spent half my life running from challenges, burying my nose in a book to escape the fresh hell surrounding me. I’m not running anymore. “I can’t leave you to this, this…thing.”

“Cordelia Diane,” he sighs, like this is a random disagreement instead of the fight of our lives. “Now is not the time to play the heroine of all your books. I am telling you to make a run for it, and you need to fucking listen.”

I shoot him a quick glare even as I stand at his side. “You don’t get to play the hero either.”

Just to prove that I’m not helpless, I pick up a nearby large stick with a pointy end.

When I thrust it forward like a wooden sword, the creature bats away my attack like I’m nothing more than a feeble babe rather than a fully-grown man with chiseled abs and considerable biceps.

The thing swipes his claws toward me but doesn’t make contact.

I get the feeling that was a warning shot. If this beast wanted to take us down, it absolutely could, two on one or no.

Visible sweat rolls down my forehead and dampens my shirt beneath my breasts as Duke pants, “He’s not really attacking us, just defending himself. Maybe he’ll let us go if we retreat. Slowly. ”

I don’t hate the idea of living to fight another day, so long as Duke—in my body—isn’t the sacrificial lamb in our alliance. I nod. “Worth a shot.”

Duke raises my hands in the universal sign of surrender, taking an obvious step away from the monster without turning my back on it.

It snarls in response.

I keep my tree branch lifted and follow Duke’s lead. “We don’t want to hurt you, Mr. Mothman. Just stay where you are, and we’ll call it a day.”

“Really, Cordie?” Duke mutters. “You’re holding a dead tree up like a weapon. I don’t think lying to Mothman is going to help our cause.”

Fuck no am I putting our only weapon down. I agree that lying isn’t in our best interest, though, even if the thing can’t understand a word we’re saying.

“You’re a scarily beautiful creature who deserves a peaceful existence,” I croon to the naked sort-of man. “That doesn’t mean I can let you have your way with my body.”

Duke grits out, “You better not be drooling over his dick more than mine.”

A sudden image of me—really me—assaults my mind. I’m on my knees and drooling around Duke’s thick cock in my mouth.

I shake it off.

“Really, Duke?” I parrot sarcastically as I take another step away from Mothman. “You’re more worried about a dick-measuring contest than the bloodthirsty cryptid?”

“There’s no proof he ever killed anyone before,” Duke says to me, before mimicking my earlier tone to the thing.

“Isn’t that right, buddy? You’re just a horny guy who doesn’t have a Mrs. Mothman to blow off steam with.

If you let us go, then I’ll spend the rest of my days searching for your perfect match. ”

The creature must understand us after all, and that lie of a promise from Duke sends him over the edge. It lunges toward my body and wraps its dangerously clawed hand around my arm, drawing blood.

I scream, and then a shocking green light temporarily blinds me.

A deafening boom pierces Duke’s ears a second later.

I’m knocked flat on Duke’s ass from the aftershock.

It takes me a few moments to recover from the unexpected burst of power.

I half expect to open his eyes to the sight of the creature feeding on my entrails, now that it’s finally gotten the drop on us.

I lift myself onto Duke’s elbows and swivel his head around the clearing, but Mothman is gone.

Duke, however, is staring at me from a few feet away. He’s on my back on the ground, but my eyes are wide.

“Gingersnap,” he pants. “What the hell did you do ?”

“Me?” I squeak. “I didn’t do anything. It must have been Mothman.”

With obvious effort, he lifts onto my hands and knees and crawls toward me.

My mind can’t comprehend what Duke’s eyes are seeing, even after being faced with an actual cryptid.

And a very much unwanted body swap. And mounting evidence that my grandmother might have actually been the storied Witch of the Appalachians.

And a fortune teller revealing that my fated mate is the guy who tortured me for half my life.

Duke Castellaw is bleeding, and he’s crawling toward me, as if he can’t do anything else.

He shakes my head. “That didn’t come from Mothman. It came from you.”

I blink at him. At myself.

“The second Mothman put his hand on me, you unleashed hell,” Duke insists before he collapses on top of his own chest. “Why didn’t you run? You could have.”

“I couldn’t,” I cough out.

Escaping with my life—even in his body—never occurred to me.

I wrap his arms around my heaving, sweaty back.

I couldn’t leave…my mate.

Oh, God. What have I done?