Page 35 of Wolf, Willow, Witch
A small sliver of her couldn’t shake what she’d stumbled upon at the Haven house—the ghostly voice rippling through her skull, the rancid breath on her neck. Instinct told her to turn around, to let it go, to drop the hunt and find something safer to chase. Fenrir’s warning squirmed inside her.Even the faithful face betrayal.She glanced sideways at Lincoln. Remembered his heavy gaze locked with her own, his hands on her face, holding her tenderly as she went to pieces in his lap. How he’d reached between them, touched where they were connected, and brought slick fingers to his mouth, tasting unwieldy sex magic. How after, when the ritual was done and Tehlor had barely caught her breath, he’d turned her over, wrapped his hand around her throat, and fucked her hard and fast. Held her impossibly close. Made a mess of her and saidthat’s it, baby.Good girl.Say my name.
And she had, like a prayer, laughing and moaning.
“You’re staring,” he said.
“If you fuck me over, I’ll castrate you. You know that, right?”
Lincoln laughed again, guiding the truck around a thorny bush. “I’m well aware.”
“I’m serious, Lincoln.”
“Uh huh, because you weren’t thinking about taking the Breath of Judas for yourself, using it to make me bend the knee, and cashing in on an actualslave?That never crossed your mind?” He stole a glance at her, brow furrowed, lips parted. “C’mon, I don’t fuck where I shit. I wouldn’t have—”
“Excuse me? Not to be a bummer, babe, but you have a well-documented history of fucking where you shit—”
Lincoln stomped on the brake and shoved the gear shifter intopark. He whipped toward her and held out his hand, asking for Gunnhild. When she didn’t hand her over, he heaved a sigh, curling his fingers impatiently. Tehlor set her familiar in his palm and watched him place the rat on the dash, stroking her head with his pointer finger. Once Tehlor’s palms were free, he seized them, snatching her up in a two-handed grasp. Like that, facing each other in mock devotion, Lincoln met her eyes and brought her knuckles to his mouth.
“I could’ve done this job without you,” he said. Gentleness wrapped around each word. “It would’ve been easier, more efficient, quicker—”
“Bullshit.”
“Tehlor,” he warned.
She went quiet, waiting.
“I could’ve taken the Breath of Judas for myself. I’m meaner than you—” He snared her with an impatient glare, halting her before she could speak. She closed her mouth. “—I’m ruthless; you’re cunning. I’m straightforward; you’re a goddamn weasel. I could’ve killed you weeks ago. Could’ve put you in the wall where you found me.” He nodded as if to sayit’s trueand it was.“If this whole thing was on me, I’d poison the baptism water, watch them all choke to death, knock the girl unconscious, and kill whoever got in my way. It’d take ten minutes. Maybe twenty.”
“Then why…” She stopped. Her lips squirmed and she held her breath, allowing him to finish.
“Because you’re smart,” he whispered, squeezing her small hands. “You’re patient. You move like a shadow. You’re persistent and savvy and fierce, but you don’t flaunt it. It’s foryou—power, magic, faith, it’s all yours. You don’t care about status, immortality, leaving a mark... None of that shit matters to you. You belong entirely to yourself, and I envy that.”
That’s not true, she thought.I’ve tricked you, Lincoln Stone.
Tehlor tilted her head, studying his strong bones and timid smile.Envy. What a strange thing for him to say. She blushed horribly.
Lincoln touched his lips to her knuckles again, resting his mouth there. “You can choose to believe me or not. That’s up to you. But I need you to trust me. At this point, the bar is on the fuckin’ floor, okay? You can at least give me that.”
“Fine.” She tucked everything he’d said close to her heart and steeled her expression, nodding curtly.
“Do I need to bring up the slave stuff again or—”
“No, I got it,” she blurted, exhaling hard.
“Good.” He kissed her.
She kept her eyes open. He did, too. Their lips met, briefly, firmly, and Tehlor’s chest constricted.
“Good,” she echoed. “Give me my rat back. Let’s go.”
Lincoln scooped Gunnhild up and handed her to Tehlor, then yanked the gearshift intodrive.
In the rearview mirror, headlights blinked on the road behind them, following the candlelit path. About a mile in, the trees gave way to a large inlet and the revival came into view.
A large, decorative gazebo filled the center of the meadow. Chic, boho string lights hung from wooden beams, evenly draped from each corner, and fastened in the center of the structure. Other, smaller gazebos were interconnected, creating segmented spaces where people moved about, helping themselves to coffee in one area, praying in another, and swaying with their hands above their heads as an acoustic band played in the largest. Tehlor noticed the baptism station immediately, staring intently at the trough near the back of the closest gazebo.
Cars and trucks bracketed the snowy path on either side of the road. Lincoln parked next to a Land Cruiser, so new it didn’t have plates.
“Stay in there,” Tehlor said to Gunnhild and slipped the spotted rat into her purse. “I’m serious. These people will kill you, okay?Stay.”
