Page 37 of Autumn of the Witch

Micah gave a wild laugh, and then he left, quickly, going to the bathing room. Probably to get off, which Sasha really wished he could help with, but instead he went into the bedroom and cleaned himself, changed his pants, and climbed into bed with Viv.

“He scratched the fuck out of me and rubbed salt on my back,” Sasha said, when Viv blinked her eyes open and gave him aWell?kind of look. “I came so hard I saw stars.”

She smiled. “Good. Did he have fun?”

“Yeah, but he ran off before I could make him come. A shame. I saw what he’s packing in those pants, babe, and it’s nice. Not me, obviously, but a damn good size. Wanted to get my mouth on it, but…”

“He’s not ready for that, maybe.” Viv yawned. “I’m feeling better, but I think you’ll have to sleep on the couch tomorrow.”

“Sure, babe. I know how it goes.” He turned and smiled at her, smoothing her hair back. “He was making you stuff. Those drinks. Flower packets and stuff. It was cute.”

“Good. Let me see your back.”

Sasha rolled over so she could see, proud as he always was when he took pain well. Viv’s fingers were warm on his back, and Sasha smiled in pleasure as she examined the scratches.

“He did a good job,” Viv murmured, kissing his shoulder. “I’d like you to hold me for a bit. Until I get too hot and need you to go away.”

Sasha laughed, rolled back over, and drew her close. “Oh no, how could I possibly.” He kissed her head. “I think it’s helping, yeah? His witch drinks.”

“He’s helping in a lot of ways,” Viv murmured. “I like him. I like that… when this is over… you might have someone to give you what you need.”

“You do that, babe. And you’re getting over it, yeah? Lasted less time, this one, didn’t it?” Sasha stroked her hair, the panic present but at bay for now since he was so wonderfully under and sated.

“That’s not what I meant,” Viv murmured, sighing, “and you know it.”

Sasha shook his head. “Yeah. But, baby? No one gives me what I need like you do. No one isyou. No one could ever be you.”

Viv smiled, something sad in her expression, but she said nothing—just curled up and pressed her face to his chest.

Sasha thought he heard something—a door, or a stumble, something that might suggest a person was moving about. It was probably Micah, heading back from the bath, and Sasha was drifting into sleep with his wife in his arms, content and happy… pretending he didn’t know what she was trying to tell him, what she meant bywhen it’s over.

ChapterSeven

No one could ever be you.

Micah sat on the couch, clasping his hands between his knees. He couldn’t keep doing this. He’d fooled himself, for a while, thinking that he could be useful, that Viv and Sasha seemed to like having him around. And Sasha had certainly been eager, writhing deliciously under Micah’s dominance. But in the end, Micah wasn’t Viv. Viv and Sasha were mates, the kind Micah used to dream about when he was young, and Micah couldn’t complicate that.

He would leave Viv the book in the spring. That would help. But first, he would need to make it through autumn and winter without making a mess of things.

It was odd. Micah hadn’t even considered the sexual rules of the Lukoi in the village until now. They all abided by them—no kissing or oral sex with anyone who wasn’t their mate, no sex between unmated dominants and submissives—but Micah had always felt strangely removed. The restrictions hadn’t applied to him, because no one expected him to find a sexual partner. And the thought of kissing Sasha or Viv didn’t make him feel like less of a Lukoi or like he’d be doing something wrong. It made him feel jittery, excited. Viv and Sasha were more important than rules set down by strangers centuries ago. And that was frightening to realize.

He hadn’t been afraid when his parents fell ill. He hadn’t thought they might die, so it had been a shock that left him numb and lost, going through the motions until grief could set in. But he knew better now, and he understood what Viv feared—she’d told him that her sickness had been survivable so far, but it wouldn’t always be. A day would come when the fever didn’t break. And Sasha would be devastated, because she was his person, the only one he could love so deeply.

Settling Sasha had been thrilling, a feeling of raw power like the roar of a new fire, but it wasn’t love. Or maybe it was for Micah, but not for Sasha. Not for Viv.

Micah wasn’t the kind of person to sit in his feelings. He tended to avoid them, especially the unpleasant ones. But that was a habit left over from his parents—and why would he listen to people who treated him like a burden, instead of the way Sasha and Viv treated him? Or Zev, who never questioned Micah’s need for quiet, who understood the fear of a crowd, even if it wasn’t so strong for him.

He’d let his parents control him for a long time, Micah realized. Even after they were gone. He’d treated himself the way they had, like he and his love for crafting were shameful, to be hidden away. He’d isolated himself in the mountains when he could have just made the rules for visitors clear and gotten to know his neighbors slowly, on his terms.

But Viv thought making beautiful things was worthwhile. Sasha thought he was brave. Who else might have thought that, if Micah hadn’t listened to his parents?

He needed to remember therightvoices, this time. He opened his great-grandmother’s book to the precious blank pages in the back, reserved for new recipes and designs. Some of his designs were already there, written small, to save precious space. He found a quill and ink and found a margin where he squeezed in the words:

I can make beautiful things.

I’m not broken.

I’m brave.

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