Chameleon by Kenya Wright Page B

of mint filled the air. Green sparks skittered along my skin. Wiz’s penis unfolded between my thighs and I forced myself to stare up at the ceiling instead of checking out his body. Every time I changed into Wiz I felt dirty about having his penis between my legs as if I was invading his privacy. It rubbed against my thigh and caused me to tremble from the contact.
    Concentrate, Cameo.
    I continued to sank into Wiz’s form and lose my own image. There was an intake of breath on the other side of the curtain. I had no doubts that Wiz knew I was shifting.
    “You still want the towel?” Wiz asked.
    Once Wiz’s image covered me, I moved the curtain and stuck my tongue out at him.
    Wiz smirked, l eaned on the edge of my sink, and threw the towel at my mimic’s muscular chest. “Good play.”
    “I try.” I caught the towel and dried myself off.
    He glanced below my waist and grinned. “Don’t you think you’re over exaggerating with the size of my equipment?”
    I opened my mouth, but no words escaped.
    “I’m not that big.” He motioned at my mimic’s penis.
    “Your DNA says otherwise.” I wrapped the towel around my body, snatched another one from him to cover my hair, and then shifted back to my normal form. “It’s not like I formed your image from my own imagination or anything.”
    He laughed while I headed out of the bathroom.
    “Hold up. We’re not done talking.” He prowled my way until no space ran between us. Tiny beads of water coated his upper body. His hair was slicked back. He smelled like my strawberry soap.
    My stomach growled. How embarrassing. I held my waist. “I’m hungry.”
    “Let’s exchange information while we eat,” Wiz offered.
    “Exchange information? Like you’re going to tell me what’s going on?” I beamed so hard my cheeks stung. “You’re really going to tell me everything?”
    “Do I have a choice?”
    “No. But let’s do a blood promise,” I said. “I don’t know if I can trust anything you’re going to say.”
    A blood promise was old magic, so old no one could pin point where it originated. The blood promise required at least two beings with power in their blood to make the oral contract. Both parties had to agree on what they wanted done. In this case, I wanted Wiz to not lie to me. He could limit my desire as much as we agreed to. Once we had the full commitment from both people, then we would cut a part of our selves usually the arm and when our blood appeared we stated something along the lines of, through the blood I promise to. . .
    Blood promises were serious matters with a firm ending date. If anyone did minor violations of the promise, during the term it was in effect, blood leaked out of the violator’s body or the area on the body where the parties cut themselves would have severe swelling. The promise spell allowed several times for a person to do minor breaches. This included the person just thinking about breaking the blood promise. But once there was a major violation, a full on clear and intentional breach, all of the blood left the violator’s body, killing the person instantly.
    Therefore it was a big deal to do a blood promise, and I understood why Wiz just stood in front of me with a grim face and shook his head no.
    “I’m not doing a blood promise with you, Cameo.”
    “So in other words you plan on lying to me?”
    “I’m not doing it for two reasons.” Blowing out air, he rubbed his face and then twisted to the side to display a long scar on his waist. “Your blood promise will cause me to violate a blood promise I already have. I’ll tell you as much as I can without breaching it.”
    “You said two reasons.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s the second reason?”
    “I made this blood promise with the B.D. several years ago. If I told you how long, you would never believe me.” He traced the scar with his finger. “For the past three years I’ve been regretting it. I’ll never make another blood