Page 21 of The Witch's Fate
The blankets lift, then fall, sending a soft breeze of her scent toward me.Fucking hell.
My cock throbs with the torture of her being so close and yet untouchable. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t trust her. Thiswitch has powers like I have never encountered before, and her wariness is salt in her scent.
What does she think of me? What does she think I will do to her?
Is she afraid that I mightclaimher?
I huff a humorless laugh at the thought, keeping the sound under my breath, and fold my arm under my head. I know not what’s come over me only that I crave her more than I have ever craved another. I am surely spellbound and desperate to resist. Time ticks with the thoughts becoming more and more vivid, agonizingly slow.
Idalis doesn’t sleep, either. I can feel her there, lying in her bed with her heart racing, mere feet from where I lie.
My mouth waters for the rest of the night. My cock never softens. I want her more with every heartbeat.
Perhaps I should have taken my chances in the forest last night, or started the journey back to my lands, but with us both awake and waiting for the other to speak, or move, or?—
Something else.
It’s torture.
She never speaks. Idalis is determined to lie as still as she can, it seems. She does so until the sun comes up.
When enough light sneaks in around her shutters, Idalis quietly climbs out of her bed and walks purposefully across the cottage to the bathing room. When she comes out, she is dressed again—a dark green dress that looks as if it was woven from the land around her. A pattern of wildflowers is embroidered at the hem and the cuffs of the sleeves. She eyes me and when our gazes catch, she offers me a simper and another blush then looks away. My head falls back and my eyes close from the vision she is. I’m forced to suppress a growl of satisfaction. She reaches up to her hair to tie it in a low bun at her neck, and the sight makes my wolf howl mournfully. He longs to be allowed to touch her.He yearns to be allowed to bury his nose in the nape of her neck and breathe her in.
“The storm still brews… I’ll make tea,” she says, without looking at me. “I thought you would like some, but if you do not?—”
“I would love a cup.” I get to my feet quickly, trying to adjust myself subtly. “Thank you.” It’s then that the need to sleep truly hits me as I stand. I’ve gone days without sleep before, but this is different. The warmth and comfort teases me just as the sight of the witch does.
Idalis goes into the kitchen nook. I make a short stop at my pack and shut myself in the bathing room.
Splashing cold water on my face does nothing to relieve the intense hard-on I have nor does it rid the burning of my eyes needing rest. With both hands gripping the edge of the vanity, I drop my head down to stare at the offending erection. Fucking hell. What this woman does to me.
I wrap my fist around it, wanting more than anything to give in to the lust raging in my blood. Just to be past it all.
Would she know?
That’s the thought that makes me let go of my cock like it burned me. I shove my cock back into my clothes, gritting my teeth and thinking of raw blisters and lethal battle wounds to distract myself.
If Idalis can sense me stroking my cock to thoughts of her, then there is no chance she will help me recharge the crystals and summon the portal. No chance at all. The lone woman would kick me out, I’d imagine.
It is one thing to become stranded in a strange land while I have been sent on a mission. It is another thing to actively prolong my stay.
Both of us seem to be on our best behavior when I step out of the bathing room. We have a quiet, polite breakfast of tea andtoast with jam, then Idalis seats herself at her worktable, and I take some of the crystals out of my pack and carry them out to charge under what little sun peeks from the storm clouds. The rain is a mere sprinkle now.
The heavy clouds that sat over the cottage for hours yesterday are gone, and the gray wisps they left behind are beginning to break up and let the sun through. Perhaps once the storm has passed, the portal will work.
I go over to the oven—it is well-made of sturdy stone—and arrange the smaller crystals, then hold up the one that is still humming so I can call my commander and give him an update.
Jorge’s face appears in the facet. It wobbles for a few beats, then resolves into sharper clarity than it had in the dark under the trees.
“Ryker. Can you hear me?”
“I can.” I answer. “I’ve found the witch, and she offered me shelter but cannot open the portal.” Jorge’s slight raise of his eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed, and I wonder if it’s her hospitality or her lack of ability that gives him pause. “Do you have news of the portal?”
He shakes his head with a grimace. “From what we can tell, all the portals in the entire territory are down. It’s as if there’s been a cloak thrown over the area.”
“All across this land?”
“Yes,” he confirms. “None of the portals will open, and we can’t open one to come to you.” It’s surprising how dread doesn’t come with his words. Left alone in between enemy territory and at the mercy of the witch…
