Page 46 of Cursed By the Love Witch

He needs to get her back to camp so he can adequately tend to her wounds. Darcee continues to shudder. Her good arm curls against his chest, dragging him closer. Bael can hear footsteps off in the distance; they won’t be alone much longer.

“Darcee.” His hands drift up and down her shaking body. “Darcee, can you hear me?”

Magenta eyes blink up at him. They glow anew—looking at him like she never has before.

“You saved me,” she whispers.

A fierceness pounds in his chest.

“Always,” he vows. “I need to get you back and clean your wounds.”

“You saved me,” she repeats as if in a daze.

Leaning forward, her lips meet his without checking to see if they have an audience. He hates how cold they feel against him, but Darcee’s mouth is always a delight. Scooping her into his arms, their mouths part, she rests her head against his shoulder.

Cradled in his arms, he carries Darcee past the curious students who break through the clearing. A few ask if she is alright, and he dismisses them. He needs to tend to her—he can’t bear to see her in pain.

As he continues to walk with her, he feels it. He knew there was something different in how she looked at him, and now he has all the confirmation he needs. In the middle ofthe Bog, he feels the faintest flicker of her soul brushing his—something he’s longed to feel for years.

His grip on her tightens—trying to capture it before it slips away.

No matter, he’ll claim it and her before long. Darcee will be his forever.

20

DARCEE

You saved me.

The words ring repeatedly in my head as I sit around the small bonfire. The flames are burning low as no one has tended to it. Most students are back in their—or another’s—tent for the evening. After making sure I was alright, Prue and Zander slipped away shortly after dinner.

I touch the bandage on my arm. Bael used his magic to clean me off before tending to my wounds. The salve he used burned, but he assured me it would kill any venom the creature may have tried to inject me with. I had felt dizzy and barely ate any of the simple stew served for supper. I glance up and see his small cottage outlined by the full moon.

His whispered promise in the woods tickles my ear.

Bael had been gentle with me as he healed me. His fear and worry had been palpable. His hand would squeeze mine more than once in comfort and reassurance that I was okay. I'm beginning to realize that he saved me in more than one way.

Sleep won’t come easy tonight—not after what happened. I didn’t think about packing my sleeping dram. Without it, I’ll toss and turn as the memories of my past and tonight haunt me. Ineed to sleep. Bael said it was vital for me to rest to recover quicker.

The only way I will is if I seek him out tonight.

Rising from my spot at the fire, I quickly smother it with a flick of my wrist. The clearing is awash in darkness. I check to make sure no one is watching and walk on silent feet towards Bael’s cottage. I slip through the open garden gate. Various herbs and midnight-blooming flowers perfume the air, making me forget we’re inthe Bog. My steps are quiet as I cut through the overgrown hedge. After a few paces, I stand before an old wooden door.

The brass knob turns, and the door swings open without a sound. Slipping inside, I find myself in the center of a modest kitchen. A teapot rests atop the stove. A few spice jars and root vegetables are stacked inside an old cabinet. It smells even more like Bael than his office does.

I feel like I’ve stepped into his life. My fingers trail over the scratched surface of his kitchen table. I can picture Bael here, cataloging herbs and crafting special potions. It’s easy enough to imagine myself here as well—the two of us eating together. I’d have to add more pink decor to liven up the space. A small smile plays on my lips as I walk into the next room.

It is a small sitting area with a large loveseat and coffee table. Along the walls are bookshelves holding all manner of items. Displayed insects, skulls of various animals, and countless leather-bound books. Skimming over the spines, I feel the magic of the texts ripple through my hand.

I turn and find a small staircase. Above me is a loft glowing faintly with candlelight. A part of me whispers to turn back—going up there will change everything. I silence that tiny voice and give in to the selfish parts of myself that desire Bael’s comfort above all else. I need to feel his closeness, hear his laugh, and let one of his stories lull me into a deep sleep.

I need him—a part of me always will.

The stairs creak under my weight as I slowly ascend them. Once I reach the top, my breath catches. The room is simple, consisting of a massive bed laden with black silk sheets and overstuffed pillows. Black and white pillar candles flicker around the room, giving the space just enough light for me to make out the figure in the center of the bed.

Bael rests against the headboard, his bare chest on full display. His violet eyes trace over my body, hardening when they get to my bandages.

“I didn’t know if you’d come,” he says softly.

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