I suffer from clinical prosopagnosia. Face blindness. Even after months of marriage, I couldn’t pick my husband—a notoriously lethal black mamba shifter—out of a police lineup. That night, I was waiting for him to get home from work, just like always, when it started. A bizarre, glowing stream of text began scrolling horizontally across my field of vision, like a spectral ticker tape. At first, I thought I was having a stroke. But the words were too coherent. [God, the wife is so pathetic. Her husband is totally exploiting her face-blindness. He sent his best friend to play house with her while he's out hooking up with his golden-girl first love!] Another line of text materialized, hovering near the ceiling: [Honestly, how oblivious can she be? She hasn't even noticed the guy in front of her isn't her husband. Her husband is a snake. This guy is a wolf. The anatomy doesn't even line up!] I stared at the floating words, a cold knot forming in my stomach. Doubt is a creeping vine; once planted, it takes over. I looked up at the man standing before me. Stripped down to just his face, I truly couldn't tell if it was the man I'd said vows to. Later, after my shower, I sat on the edge of the bed. I stared at my "husband," who was wearing nothing but a loosely tied bathrobe. I tilted my head, letting a perfect mask of innocent confusion slide over my features. "Honey," I murmured, "why is there only one of you down there today?" 1 He froze. The stillness was absolute. A violent rush of red flooded his cheeks—whether from sheer mortification or panic, I couldn't tell. "Nothing is missing," he choked out. "You're seeing things." His voice was a low, resonant baritone. He was trying to pitch it perfectly to match my husband's cadence, and to his credit, it was terrifyingly close. I narrowed my eyes slightly, rising from the bed and closing the distance between us. "Don't be silly," I whispered. I pressed my palm flat against his chest, tracing the rigid topography of his muscles, trailing downward. "Your pecs feel great," I observed softly. "Abs are sharp. The V-line is practically carved out of marble. But..." My fingers dipped lower, resting brazenly against his lower abdomen. I gave a light, deliberate flick. "But, sweetheart, you're a little... sparse right here today. You usually fill out your slacks quite differently." Shifters, despite their flawless human facades, always retain certain biological blueprints of their animal halves. Snakes, you see, are doubly equipped. At my touch, the man gave a violent shudder. He grabbed my wrist, his grip iron-tight but trembling. "No," he stammered, his voice fracturing. "It's—it's just that I bought this robe a size too big. It's not fitting right." "Is that so..." I stared at the frantic pulse beating against his throat, at the tips of his ears burning crimson. I offered him a soft, sympathetic smile, stepping into his space and looping my arms around his neck like a devoted wife. "Honey, listen to me. Even if you're experiencing some... performance issues, you shouldn't hide it from me. We can see a doctor." The man gritted his teeth, a strained "Okay" ripping from his throat. He reached up, physically peeling my arms off him. "It's late. We should just go to sleep." I wasn't about to let him off the hook. I snagged him by the lapels, dragging him down onto the mattress with me. "No way. I need to inspect the merchandise. Just to be sure you're healthy." The spectral text flared to life again, buzzing with digital anxiety: [Wait, why is she acting so out of character? Did she figure it out?] [No way. Jax has played the stand-in half a dozen times already and she never noticed a thing.] [Yeah, but they've never actually gotten into bed together before! This is their first time sharing the mattress. And let's be real, Jax is packing a single barrel—he can't compete with the snake's double-barrel shotgun!] Jax. So that was his name. So he really wasn't my husband. I narrowed my eyes, a dangerous thrill humming in my veins. I slid my palm down the curve of his waist. "Come on, sweetie... let me just check." Before he could protest, I slipped my hand under his shirt. Jax violently jolted. A stifled, guttural groan tore from his throat. A split second later, a pair of plush, snow-white animal ears popped out of the top of his head. 2 It was so incredibly blatant, I couldn't even pretend to be blind to it. The bedroom plunged into a suffocating silence. Jax was as rigid as a corpse. Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, I reached up and gave one of the ears a squeeze. "Honey? What are these?" Jax swallowed hard, forcing a breathless, desperate chuckle. "It's... it's a surprise. For you." I blinked. "A what?" "You know, the animal ear trend," Jax babbled, his eyes darting everywhere but my face. "I read online that women are into this kind of thing. So, I... I bought props." He was a terrible liar, but I admired the hustle. I kneaded the ear again. It was warm, twitching under my touch, the fur impossibly soft. No prop on earth felt like a living pulse. I feigned total gullibility, leaning over to peek behind him. "Oh! Well, if you got the ears, did you remember to buy the tail?" Jax’s face turned ashen. "Y-Yes." He didn't need to tell me. I could see the heavy, telltale bulge threatening to tear through the back of his sweatpants. He might not be filling out the front the way my husband did, but he was certainly making up for it in the back. [Tsk, tsk. The wife knows exactly what she's doing. Three seconds of touching and she forced this virgin pup right into a partial shift.] [Ugh, she's so shameless! How can she just flirt with any man she sees?] [Are you guys stupid? She literally thinks that's her husband! If anyone deserves to be dragged, it's the cheating husband and his gross little proxy. Taking advantage of a disabled woman's condition? They deserve whatever she dishes out!] Oh, I agreed. They definitely needed to be taught a lesson. Looking at Jax's flushed, panicked face, a wicked idea bloomed in my chest. "Oh, honey! You remembered how much I love surprises. I'm so happy!" I sprang off the bed, marching to the darkest corner of my closet. I rummaged around until I found a specific box. I popped the lid, pulling out a scrap of sheer, skintight lingerie. Attached to the plunging neckline were two delicate, silver nipple clamps. "I bet you didn't forget about this, either," I said brightly, holding it up. "Put it on! It's going to look absolutely stunning with the ears." Jax stared at the fabric like it was made of radioactive waste. "You want me to wear that?!" "Of course." I tilted my head, weaponizing my innocence. "Did you forget? You promised me." Jax clenched his jaw. "You're misremembering. I never—" "No backing out, husband!" I lowered my voice, letting it drop into a smoky purr. "Or... do you want me to dress you myself?" 3 Jax looked like he was about to pass out. After three agonizing seconds, he snatched the lingerie from my hands and practically sprinted into the bathroom, slamming the door. I heard a lot of rustling, followed by a muffled complaint. "This thing is way too small. It's cutting off my circulation." "That's impossible," I called back smoothly. "I bought it to your exact measurements. Though... maybe your workouts have been paying off. I did think your chest felt a bit fuller just now." Silence stretched from the bathroom for a full beat. "...You really think my body looks better than before?" "Oh, absolutely," I lied. Jax went quiet again. Two minutes later, the door clicked open. Jax stepped out. The sheer fabric clung to his muscular frame in a way that was both utterly humiliating and objectively fantastic. He looked everywhere but at me. I immediately whipped out my phone and snapped a photo. The camera flashed. Jax flinched, lunging forward to grab my wrist. "Don't take pictures!" I easily dodged him, snapping two more. "Why not? My husband is gorgeous. His body is amazing. What's wrong with wanting to keep a few photos?" He froze, his hand dropping to his side. "You... you really mean that?" I nodded earnestly. Some of the mortification drained from his face, replaced by a bashful, confusing sort of pride. "Even so... you shouldn't..." "I only take pictures of you because I miss you so much," I said, letting a trace of genuine melancholy slip into my voice. "You're always away on missions. I never see you. Sometimes, looking at your pictures is the only way I remember you're mine." Jax’s expression completely shattered, melting into something agonizingly soft. "I'll... I'll stay home more. To keep you company." I raised an eyebrow. Keep me company? Who is keeping me company? You? I mean, I wasn't entirely opposed to the idea... I smiled, reaching out to hook my index finger under the silver chain connecting the clamps on his chest. I gave it a sharp, testing tug, pulling him down to my eye level. "You promise?" Jax hissed at the pinch, but his tail thumped rhythmically against the floorboards. "I promise." I let out a soft laugh, gazing up at him with half-lidded, adoring eyes. Jax stared back, his breath hitching. Drawn by some invisible gravity, he began to lean down. His lips parted. The kiss was a millimeter away— BRRRING. A shrill ringtone shattered the moment. Jax scrambled backward like he'd been electrocuted, frantically swiping for his phone on the nightstand. "I—I have to take this..." As the screen flashed past my line of sight, I caught the caller ID. Declan. My actual husband. 4 I didn't know what transpired during that phone call, but when Jax returned, the playful energy was dead. His face was thunderous, and the sheer lingerie was gone, replaced by a baggy t-shirt. Feeling my gaze on him, he climbed into bed, his back stiff. "Go to sleep," he muttered harshly. "I'm not in the mood tonight." He switched off the lamp. The room plunged into darkness. A long time passed. Just as I closed my eyes, I heard Jax whisper a vicious, muffled curse into his pillow. [Ooooh, the fake got caught slipping by the real husband! Didn't even get the kiss, just got a screaming match over the phone. Serves the dog right.] [He usually plays it so safe. Why did he fold tonight? Ugh, it's the wife's fault. She's too seductive.] [Okay, but can we talk about how unhinged the actual husband is? He literally has hidden cameras in his own bedroom to spy on his disabled wife! Typical creepy snake behavior...] Cameras?! My heart slammed against my ribs. A wave of ice-cold shock washed over me, followed instantly by a tidal wave of fury. Declan and I were bound together by a state-mandated, high-compatibility shifter marriage. I had fully planned to endure the probationary period, sign the paperwork, and part ways amicably. But I never imagined I was married to a voyeuristic psychopath. Yet, as the anger settled into a cold, hard clarity, a realization dawned on me. This blatant violation of my civil rights was the perfect ammunition. I could use this to petition the authorities for an immediate annulment. But if Declan liked watching so much... I rolled onto my side in the dark, staring at Jax’s broad, tense back. A dark, vindictive smile touched my lips. If he wanted a show, I’d give him a blockbuster. The next morning, I woke up the picture of domestic bliss. Downstairs, Jax was already at the stove. The apron strings pulled taut over his broad chest. "You're up," he said, voice tight. "Breakfast is ready." Nothing like starting the day with both a nutritional and a visual feast. I hummed happily, walking right up to him and planting a loud, affectionate kiss on his jaw. "Thanks, honey!" [The husband is watching this on the feed right now and he just shattered a coffee mug with his bare hands.] [Honestly, the husband is so weird. He's the one who ditched her to go see another woman. Why does he care what she does with the proxy?] [Stop the presses—the husband just booked a red-eye flight back. He's abandoning the girl. He's coming home for blood!] 5 Coming home for blood? I watched Jax's bushy tail inadvertently wag behind the counter and scoffed inwardly. Let him come. We’d see whose blood ended up on the floor. "Why are you still wearing the ears and tail?" I reached up and pinched his ear again, adopting a careless tone. "I'm having a hard time getting used to these little dog ears." Jax clicked his tongue in offense. "Wolf." I nearly choked on my coffee. Right. Wolf. I cleared my throat. "Well, take them off." Jax's face fell. He looked a mix of offended and genuinely heartbroken. "You said you liked them last night. Are you already bored of them?" "Because snakes don't have furry little ears." I met his gaze, offering a soft, devastating smile. "Unless... you keep them out all the time. So I can get used to them. So I can look at them until the idea of you without them feels wrong." "Do you think you can do that for me, honey?" Jax stared at me, swallowing hard. "Maybe. I could try." I let the hook sink in, then stood up, leaving my plate half-finished. "You do that. I need to get ready for work." "I'll go warm up the car," Jax said eagerly. "Wait." I paused on the bottom step of the staircase, curling my finger at him. "Come help me with something first." Upstairs, in the walk-in closet, I stood before the full-length mirror, buttoning a silk blouse. "I have a presentation for the board today. Tell me which outfit looks better." The skirt I was wearing was a new arrival—a high-waisted pencil skirt with an intricate silk ribbon corset back that cinched the waist tight. Jax stood in the doorway, his eyes dark and heavy, tracking the line of my throat down to the curve of my hips. "That one. That one is perfect." "You think so?" I smiled faintly, turning my back to him and swaying my hips just a fraction. "Then be a good husband and tie the back for me." Jax’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He had to take a visible, steadying breath before he crossed the room. His calloused, slightly rough fingers brushed mine as he took the silk ribbons, slowly pulling them taut against the small of my back. "Honey," I breathed. Jax looked up, meeting my eyes in the mirror. The fire in his gaze was barely contained. "Yeah?" My eyes dropped to a specific reflection in the glass. I kept my voice feather-light. "The pants you're wearing today... they fit much better." "Not sparse at all." 6 Jax dropped the ribbons like they were on fire and bolted from the room. I sighed, a little disappointed. I was curious to see the differences in canine shifter anatomy up close. A girl can wonder. When I finally walked out the front door, Jax was waiting by the SUV. His ears were still flushed pink. Honestly, compared to Declan's dark, obsessive lurking, Jax’s flustered golden-retriever energy was vastly superior. He drove me to the Institute. As the car shifted into park, I leaned over the console and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for the ride, honey." Jax’s ears burned brighter, but his arm snaked out, pulling me flush against him for a tight, possessive squeeze. "I'll pick you up tonight." I nodded, my mind already calculating how long it would take for Declan to land. I needed them both in the same room when the bomb dropped. Preoccupied, my heel caught on an uneven paving stone. I stumbled forward, bracing for impact, when a strong hand caught my elbow, steadying me perfectly. "Thank—Elliott?!" I stared up at the man, a genuine wave of surprise and warmth hitting me. "It's been so long!" Elliott was one of the very few people in the world I could consistently recognize. He was my senior from university, a brilliant mind. Though he was a shifter, his intellect vastly outclassed his physical prowess, steering him away from the military and into advanced genetics at the Institute. I hadn't seen him in two years, but he looked exactly the same. The sharp tailoring of his suit, the wire-rimmed glasses, the faint, crisp scent of cedar—and pinned to his lapel was the silver wolf-head brooch I had given him for graduation. "It's good to see you, Gemma." Elliott looked down at me, the habitual coldness in his eyes melting into something incredibly warm, like morning sun on snow. "We'll be seeing a lot more of each other. I just transferred back to the local branch." I was shocked. Elliott had been recruited by the most prestigious lab in the capital. Why would he come back to our mid-level city? He seemed to read my mind. His lips parted to explain— "Wife!" The shout came from behind me. I turned. I couldn't see the face clearly, but the frantic bounding energy was unmistakable. Jax was running toward us. "Wife, you forgot your thermos. I made your tea—" Jax ground to a halt, the thermos dangling from his hand. He stared at the man standing next to me. "Bro?! What are you doing here?" Elliott. Jax. Brothers. Well, isn't that a small world. While Jax looked like he’d seen a ghost, Elliott’s face darkened like a thunderhead. His eyes darted between Jax and me, his jaw setting into a brutal, sharp line. "Who," Elliott asked, his voice lethally quiet, "are you calling wife?" "And since when the hell are you married?!"
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