Merry Inkmas

by Talia Hibbert

Those eyes were better than a shot of espresso; especially when she stared at him like he was some kind of hero. A man could get used to that.

There was something about seeing a bad boy blush that made her desperate to keep the moment going.

“Boring guys finish last,” she corrected, pushing the completed forms back to him. “Nice guys finish anywhere they want. Especially when they look like you.”

There wasn’t a man on earth who didn’t develop an attitude when he thought he could get away with it—she was convinced. Give them a taste of sweetness and watch them come over all high and mighty.

When someone viewed you as an object, every interaction became transactional—and the sad truth was that to many men, a woman could be nothing but an object.

She’d learned long ago to leash her emotions around men she might desire. At the end of the day, most of them were only good for one thing.

Someone just needed to stir him up and make him sweet all the way through.

But that thrill of joy, of pure pleasure, was something she knew well. She tasted it for herself every time she sank into a fictional world—be

Beauty is like a firework: it shines. You stare. And then it’s gone. Mentioning it is just as pointless.”

“There isn’t a man on earth who could ruin me.” He believed her. But obsession turned men into monsters.

It never occurred to people that a woman might possess more than two dimensions. That she might be awkward, geeky, and horny all at once.

“But when you live it, it’s very slow. And fear becomes mundane. You grow immune. It’s like waking up early for work; at first it’s a struggle, but eventually you find yourself up with the sunrise on a Sunday. You become accustomed.

Her mother had always said that one thing everyone could do to ease another’s pain was to acknowledge it.

“There’s a beast inside of me. I keep it caged. You drive it wild.” Confusion pleating her brow, she peered up at him. “So are you, like, a werewolf?”