Page 65 of Bewitched By the Wicked Witch
"There's something else," he said. "About your parents."
I stiffened, sensing that whatever was coming would confirm my worst fears. "What about them?"
"You were right to suspect their deaths weren't accidental. They were investigating the Pure Blood Society for the High Council. Someone killed them to stop their research."
The words seemed to echo in the quiet space, each syllable hitting me like a physical blow. I felt something cold and dangerous unfurl in my chest, the same darkness that had manifested during our underground confrontation.
"I figured that out too." I stood abruptly, pacing to the far end of the room as I processed this information. My parents hadn't died in some random tragedy; they'd been murdered for trying to expose the same conspiracy we'd just dismantled.
"Tommy likes to gloat. How did you find out?"
"Your grandmother. She kept it from you to protect you. If you'd known they were murdered, you would have tried to investigate. The same people who killed them would have come for you."
I couldn't unpack that right now. "Tommy mentioned his great-uncle Ezra handled the problem personally," I said quietly, my voice carrying the kind of controlled fury that usually preceded expensive property damage. "He was gloating about it during his villain monologue."
"The investigation will look into historical cases," Callum promised. "If there's evidence to find, we'll find it."
I turned back to face him, and Iknew he could see the decision crystallizing in my expression. "I want to be involved in that investigation. Officially."
"Sage—"
"Don't," I interrupted with the kind of deadly calm that had been giving people nightmares for years. "Don't you dare try to protect me from this. They killed my parents, Callum. They've been murdering innocent people for decades. I'm not hiding in my underground library while other people seek justice for my family."
He studied my face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "You're right. This is your fight as much as anyone's."
"Good," I said, settling back into my chair with renewed purpose. "Because I have some very specific ideas about how to handle magical supremacists, and most of them involve creative applications of transformation magic."
"Sage, my beautiful witch," he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. "I'm so sorry for the pain I caused you. I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was break both our hearts."
"We were young and stupid," I said, leaning into his touch despite myself. "We let other people's machinations tear us apart. But I'm done letting the past define us."
"Then let's rewrite our story," he said softly. "Let's build something no one can destroy."
I didn't answer with words. I crashed my mouth to his, pouring years of longing and regret into a single, consuming kiss. He met me with equal force, his tongue tangling with mine as he backed me toward the firelight, fingers already tugging at the hem of myshirt.
Clothes fell away in frantic, fumbled motions. By the time my back hit the plush rug before the fireplace, we were half-naked, skin brushing skin, our bodies magnetized with heat and need. His hands were everywhere, skimming my ribs, cupping my breasts, mapping the planes of me like I was something precious and long-lost.
"Gods, I missed you," he growled against my throat, trailing kisses from my jaw to my collarbone. "Every inch of you."
I arched into him, breathless, already slick with desire. He kissed down my body, his mouth finding one nipple and sucking it hard enough to make me gasp. His hand played with the other, rolling it between his fingers until I was writhing beneath him.
At some point, with a grin and a growl, he lifted me easily and carried me to the bed. I wrapped my legs around him, laughing softly into his mouth as he dropped me onto the mattress like I weighed nothing at all.
He crawled over me like a man starving, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. His chest brushed my bare breasts, the friction of skin-on-skin sending sparks shooting through me.
"You are so damn beautiful," he whispered. "And mine."
My breath hitched. "Then take me. Please."
He let go of my hands only to drag them down my body, worshiping every inch before settling between my legs. His mouth found the wet heat of me, and I cried out, clutching the sheets as he licked and sucked with maddening skill. His tongue circled my clit, slow and teasing,before diving deeper, tasting me like he'd been dreaming of this moment for years.
"Oh, gods, Callum," I moaned, my thighs trembling around his head. "I'm already so close..."
But just as the tension began to crest, he pulled away with a mischievous grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Not yet," he murmured. "I want to come inside you. I want to feel you fall apart around me."
He rose above me, muscles flexing as he gripped my hips, guiding himself to my entrance. I felt the thick press of him against my core; hot, hard, and impossible to ignore.
"I need you," I whispered, hips lifting. "Now."
