Page 47 of Cursed By the Love Witch

“I almost didn’t,” I confess. “Things between us are moving so quickly. You don’t know things about me—things I’ve done. I worry that it’ll ruin what we have when you find out.”

His eyes flash.

“Darcee, nothing you could have done will change how I feel about you.” He holds out his hand to me. “When you are ready to share, I’ll always be here.”

A watery laugh escapes me.

“It all seems so simple. I wish it could stay that way.”

I’d give anything for things to be different. We’re running out of time, and I want to ensure he always has a piece of me when we part. I can’t stop myself. When the potion has run its course, or he’s ingested the antidote, he will always have this kernel of my heart and know how real it was.

My hands go to the hem of my fresh wool sweater and pull it over my head. The movement tugs at my sore arm, but I barely feel the discomfort. Stepping out of my shoes and socks, I drop my linen shorts on the floor. Bael’s breathing turns ragged as I stick my thumbs into my panties and pull them down, leaving me completely naked.

“I know we cannot lie together, but I thought we could still get close tonight.”

I walk towards his extended hand and allow him to pull me into his embrace. The familiarity of it brings tears to my eyes.

“Graduation can’t come soon enough,” he whispers.

I nod, even as fresh cracks splinter my heart.

I lift my head, and our lips connect. The kiss is tame, a gentle exploration of each other. His hands skim through my hair before falling to my back. Bael trails his palms up and down my spine, feeling every inch of my naked skin.

His palms freeze, and his whole body tenses. Our mouths part, and I stare into his hard eyes. I can feel the anger building inside of him.

“Who did this to you?” A quiet fury colors each word.

I’ve been so careful to keep him away from my back each time we’ve been together. He’s never questioned it and is easy enough to distract if he ventures too close. Now, I’ve laid myself bare in his arms, ready to share more with him than anyone else.

I crawl up his chest, and our foreheads press together.

“My family wasn’t supportive of my gifts. I was raised in a religious household—my parents are extremely devoted. So, when my magic began manifesting at age ten, they thought it was surely some devil's work. I’d been corrupted and was unclean. At first, when they’d catch me using my powers, I was reprimanded—forced to spend time alone in my room, no supper, things like that. It was verbal for the first few years. My father believed he could pray the disgraceful acts out of me. I’d beg for forgiveness for hours, but my magic grew stronger.”

I swallow loudly. My eyes fall shut as if I can physically recoil from the memories. Bael’s hands soothe me and guide my back to my body.

“When I turned sixteen, my father realized prayer wouldn’t be enough. The devil inside me was strong and, therefore, would need a more severe remedy. That’s when the reprimanding became harsher—more corporal.”

“He beat you,” Bael spits. I feel the slightest tremble in his hands.

I hadn’t realized I began crying until I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks.

“The nightmares—I still have such terrible nightmares of the years I spent with them. Of being locked in that small closet. Dreading the moment, he opened it, knowing that pain would be on the other side. No matter what I did—no matter how many times I prayed to be different, this was who I was. And through it all, I loved them—a part of me always will—but it wasn’t until I came across a flyer for Axwyne that I learned there was hope for me. Mistress Saege helped me get a scholarship after working my first year. Once I found my affinity for being a love witch, I was able to start making money of my own. I've saved nearly every coin I’ve earned to open my apothecary. I’ll live in the little apartment above. It’ll be hard work, but it’s what I’ve always wanted.”

Using the back of my hand, I wipe away my tears.

“I’ll make it a success. Anything is better than going back to that place. Not that I’d think they’d have me. I’ve reached out to them over the years—even invited them to my graduation, hoping maybe something had changed—but I was foolish to do so. Their condemnation of me was swift and unflinching.”

Bael is quiet as I finish telling him the story of my past. Sharing these memories with him lessens my burden. It helps me process just what I went through and see it for what it was. Violet eyes trace over my face, his sturdy presence never wavering. He doesn’t pry—doesn’t offer up advice to me or make some half-hearted attempt to relate. Bael simply holds me closer, his lips brushing over my forehead.

His fingers skim over each one of my scars, and I shiver. Something passes over his face, and I feel the same way. His full lips part, but I silence him with a kiss.

“Don’t say it,” I whisper against his mouth. “Not yet.”

Even if I desperately want to hear those three words from him, I can’t. Not now, not ever. It’ll only break my heart further when all of this is over.

Bael returns my kiss.

“I won’t,” he says. “Not until you're ready to hear it. Then I’ll say it so much you’ll grow sick of it.”

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