Page 19 of Dawn to Dusk
Her eyes slid to me with a warning on her gorgeous face, but she still let me appear to guide her. I focused on being calm, not letting any other emotions flow through me. I closed my eyes, taking in deep breaths, putting myself in a quick meditative state.
I glanced down as my purple hair darkened to a shade that a human would pass for black. There was nothing I could do about my eyes, but most humans never paid close attention to anything with a cock between their thighs.
Esmerey studied my hair with curiosity, but didn’t ask the question blazing in her eyes. I guided her into the eerily empty town. What did these people do?
She stared at a storefront, recognizing the magical energy within it, and pulled me through the door. We stepped in, and the man behind the counter glued his eyes to her.
At first, her beauty enthralled him, but he shook his head to get those bad bad thoughts out of his mind. His brown eyes narrowed on her, blaming her for his sinful desire. “What can I do ya’ for?”
I took the list from her when she pulled it out of her pocket and took control of the situation, hoping to ease his nerves. “My lady is in need of some supplies.”
He snatched the list. “You live in the area?”
“Yes. We normally go to the other side of the river, but they are plagued with yellow fever.”
“Disaster affects us all it seems.” He grunted, reading over the list. “At least half of this is out of question, our crops quit growin’.”
“That is unfortunate. Please provide anything that is available.” Esmerey nodded politely.
I knew she made a mistake when his eyes snapped to her with a heated accusation swimming in them. “Won’t be long before our herds die.”
“Is there a reason you are glaring at my lady?” I asked him.
“Her hair is red.” He referred to an old superstition that red hair was evidence of witchcraft. The belief stemmed from sol witches, and there was a kernel of truth to it. However, not every redhead on the planet was a witch, and not all witches had red hair. This was an unfortunate side effect to humans witnessing sol witches wield fire, thus aligning them with Satan.
“It is. Her father is Scottish.” I lied, using my free hand to gently push her silky hair behind her ear. It was even softer thanI thought it would be. How long had it been since I touched a woman? Unable to resist, I caressed her cheek with the back of my hand. “It is such a lovely shade for a lovely face, is it not?”
“Her dress is red.”
“She likes the color. I purchased it as a gift. Red accentuates her glorious perfection.”
A pink blush filled her cheeks in response to my compliment. Our eyes met, and the flames in her eyes fanned my own cravings. My entire body warmed like her magic spread through me, and my cock twitched in my trousers.
“She’s bewitched you!” He pointed an accusing finger at me, breaking my trance. “That explains your peculiar eyes and hair. She stole your soul right out of your cock.”
He reached to grab something behind the counter, but she yanked out one of her wyretooth blades and held it against his throat. “Hands where I can see them.”
I realized my hair turned bright iridescent pink in response to my lust. Instead of dwelling on my lack of focus, I grinned playfully at the witch who tempted me. “Witches can steal souls out of cocks now?”
A chuckle left her, despite her trying to remain serious. “Where are your other ‘witches’?”
“Listen, witch—”
“I’ll raze your fields, seduce your women, and cause your men to dishonor themselves.” This warning was not empty like the one before. I half wanted her to follow through on the threat, it was so sexy the way she took control. I would love to watch her show the weak humans how tiny they were. Let her destroy their concept of what makes a man. “I’m not like the witches you caught before.”
No, she was the real thing. My cock throbbed in my trousers again, and I struggled to keep myself from drooling. Iloved witches, and she was the epitome of what it meant to be a witch.
“They hung everyone they suspected.” A little girl peeked around from behind a doorway to the back. A girl with white hair and white eyes; the telltale sign of a witch that has not been claimed by a god yet. A blank slate of magic.
The man barked at the child. “Silence, girl.”
Esmerey flipped her blade around and nailed him in the temple. He plopped to the ground gracelessly. The child blinked at her father on the floor, but didn’t appear too perturbed.
“Did they hang your mommy?” Esmerey asked her with a gentle, understanding smile. The girl nodded her head. “Did you accidentally do something?”
“He was hitting my mommy, and I—” She stopped as fear filled her face.
“You can tell me.” Esmerey crouched down eye level. “You lost control of your magic?”
