Page 56 of Untethering Dark

Patience was not a strength of hers, but the one advantage to this sleepless, unfulfilling night was that she now knew unequivocally that she wanted Gudariks.

Astrid kneaded her frustrations into the dough until it was time to visit Mutter’s and take her second dose of hag potion.

Chapter Twenty-One

Gudariks crouched down between the rows of winter night blooms that grew outside his den, gently checking the health of their stems and petals. This bunch was hardy.

A little magic and a whole lot of moonlight was what it took to get Nachtblüten to grow. That, and water and nutrient-rich soil. He had lapis blue and silver varieties, neither of which could be found elsewhere in der Schwarzwald.

Sweeping aside a layer of snow, he dug into the ground with his claws, deep enough to get under their roots without damaging them too much, and transplanted the flowers into a clay pot. He added extra dirt and patted it around until firm.

But not too firm. The roots needed room to breathe.

Scooping up snow, he melted it in the palms of his hands, then poured the water into the soil. He repeated this several times until the flowers were well watered.

There.They should do well.He fluffed out their leaves and brushed them free of dirt.

He devoted a significant portion of his daylight hours tending to the flower beds. Sleep was something he could do, but it wasn’t necessary, and so when he wasn’t hunting, horticulture reclaimed his soul.

The hobby soothed him. It was a much needed distraction from the monotony of time, and it kept him away from the trails. Not because he was afraid of being seen—it was frankly best if he didn’t run into any humans during the day. The near constant rage-fueled hunger rumbling in his belly at every slight made the temptation to eat them too great, despite promising daytime clemency. And he was a monster of his word.

Closing his eyes, he hugged the flowerpot to his chest, remembering Astrid’s kiss. There was more to life now, fulfillment beyond his cloistered gardens, but stars above, he needed to stop thinking about her and let the task distract him in a new way.

His meeting with Astrid left him with a raging erection, which had mostly calmed down on the frigid walk home, but lingering on the memory stirred him up all over again. It was all he could do to keep himself from racing across the mountain, busting down the witch’s door, and taking her wherever he found her.

Her bed. The floor. Against a wall. It didn’t matter.

But it did matter. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t ask for that.

He exhaled slowly, watching his breath plume.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Twenty-Two

An unfinished scarf—one she started weeks before, but was interestingly crimson like Gudariks’s eyes, the color of blood—sat in Astrid’s lap.

Row after row formed, her hands moving swiftly and expertly, racing against the setting sun. It was a feverish pace, motivated by a desire to cast off before her visitor arrived and the desperate urge to mark him with something of hers. Something more permanent than confections.

Because she wanted Gudariks to be hers and hers alone.

She never wanted this kind of exclusivity before. There was never a reason to tie herself down to any one being, and she wasn’t sure there was a good reason now. But the desire...no, the unshakableneed, to claim him and then be marked by him in turn, rocked her to her very core.

Dreams were powerful. One couldn’t be a witch and not believe that, and hers had demanded the manifestation of every filthy thought she ever had about Altes Geweih. She wanted him with a frenzied hunger that almost scared her.

But she knew that if she fell, and fell hard, he would catch her.

He already had.Gray fur clutched in her fingers, his body warm against hers, and eyes so soft and kind when she came to from her dizzy spell.

And for that, any fear she might’ve harbored about the forest’s greatest monster dissipated like breath on a cold day.

The forest god held winter flowers in his hands, blue and silvery blooms potted in soil, not plucked for a bouquet. “For you, little witch,” he said, his voice a warm rumble.

Gudariks broughthera gift?

Warm, fuzzy, hopeful feelings tightened in her chest. She knew he wanted her in some capacity, but fucking and feelings didn’t always go hand in hand. Was he really, truly courting her?

Excitement thrummed beneath her skin.

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