Page 15 of The Witch's Fate
I have more strength than the door, though I must adjust my stance and engage my arm to hold it. This door must not close on me. She must not send me back out into the rain. Not only because of the crystals, but because my wolf is nipping and growling and demanding to be near her, and he will howl for hours if he is denied.
“Please. I…I will not cause you harm.” Not an ounce of shame is felt although my plea is desperate.
Her hand tightens on the door, rising an inch like she might try to slam it shut in my face, but after a few beats she lowers her hand and steps back once again although the door does not budge an itch. Still I fight against its push.
The witch’s eyes lower, to the doorknob I grip.
“You may come in.” Her voice low, testing something on the tip of her tongue. With her permission, the magic pushing the door subsides and although my heart still races, everything around me seems to slow. With one breath, I look at her and easily push the door open.
I step through the threshold and shiver at the sudden change in temperature. A fire burns in the fireplace, throwing heat and light into a good-sized main room. It is a cozy place with a bluevelvet sofa and a colorful chair by the fire. A quilt lays in a basket between the two. There’s a small table by the window with jars of herbs and crystals strewn about it. Farther into the cottage, I can make out the kitchen and another table with four chairs around it. Many shelves line the walls, and there are crystals, books, and spell jars everywhere. A journal lays open on the chair closest to me and as my eyes turn to it, the thing closes on its own. Sharply and with an authority that catches me off guard. There are enough odd curiosities to look at for days, but I only spare them a short glance. My wolf is hungry for the sight of the witch.
With a few steps backward, she puts a few feet between us, her brow creased, then waves her hand at me in an odd way. Her slender fingers each taking a turn in a quick wave. As if she reads me like she reads the books that lay everywhere in this place.
I had not known how much rain was weighing me down until it lifts off. I feel her magic on my skin, and a low growl works at the back of my throat. I swallow it down before I can let the sound loose. We have only just spoken for the first time. I do not wish to frighten her with the growls of my wolf.
The rumors promised the witch was all-powerful, but perhaps I didn’t know what that meant. With a wave of her hand she casts a drying spell. Lifting away water from my clothes and bag and boots, leaving me warm and dry. The change is sudden and leaves me still questioning the magic she possesses. It seemed to take no effort at all.
“Thank you,” I say instead, swallowing thickly, and surprised at how much control I’ve gained by simply being welcomed. At being under her spell.
“You’re welcome,” she answers softly, bowing her head just slightly which causes her hair to brush against her collar. My mouth waters at the sight of her bare skin exposed at her neck. My cock stirs and I feel heady with thoughts I should not have. “Come over to the table, would you?”
I follow her to the table. No light—except for the lightning—shines onto the surface. On the edge of the room candlelight flickers but this space seems different. It is clearly a worktable, with a crystal ball in the center. There is a small stack of cut flowers, some lengths of ribbon, more jars and crystals, and a little wicker basket.
The witch pauses at the table, her eyes flickering over her things as if she expects something to be missing.
“What is it you used to summon your portal?”
I swing my backpack off my shoulder and let it rest on the floor, then reach inside for the anchor and the crystal I used before. I show her without speaking. I know not of what has happened to my voice as I obey this witch without question. Amusement and curiosity has taken over my decades of training.
“And do you hold them like you are now?”
“No.”
I bend down and place the anchor on the floor, then place the crystal in its place as well.
The witch’s eyebrow lifts, but she does not seem to be surprised—merely curious. I feel that way about her. The more I look at her, the more stunning she appears to me. Every feature I linger on becomes more elegant. More beautiful. More intriguing. I curl my fingers into my palms, keeping them still.
While she studies the anchor, I study the witch. Her hair curls wildly in the humidity of the storm. Her dress looks well-worn but also well-made.
She meets my eyes, and my wolf lets out ayipof pleasure. The witch blinks a few times, as if she could hear it, and moves closer to the table. She places one hand on the crystal ball, the tips of her nails clicking against the crystal as she does, and stretches the other out toward the anchor and my crystal as if to offer energy to it. To charge it with her own power.
There is a faint flicker in the air above the anchor, as if the portal is about to return, but it does not.
The witch frowns, then opens her hand wider. This time, the flicker is even lighter.
She makes a soft noise of irritation, then tries a third time.
Nothing. There is not so much as a shadow.
The witch rolls her shoulders and stretches her wrists. She does not reach for the crystal ball again. Instead, she extends both hands toward the anchor. Her shoulders square and her body steadies as she faces the anchor. My gods, she’s fucking gorgeous. I wish nothing more than to ravage her as she harnesses such power. It takes great effort to snap out of it.
I realize I’m holding my breath in anticipation and let it out as subtly as I can. Her magic, it seems, is the kind that can be offered through the air, and I find myself fascinated.
She has long, graceful fingers and a confident bearing about her, as if she recharges crystals every day before breakfast and does much more complicated spells every night before bed. This is a woman whoknowsher power.
The surge is strong, but no portal appears. Nothing happens. No shadows. No flickers. It did not work.
The witch drops her hands to her sides, saying something sharp under her breath, and closes her eyes tightly. Fucking adorable. Her little hiss of dissatisfaction. My cock twitches and for a moment, I forget all reason.
