Page 77 of Soul of a Witch

I was falling apart for him, and he didn’t stop, didn’t let up even the slightest bit as he pushed me over the edge.

As I came down from bliss, shaking and whimpering, Callum held my face and said, “Snap your fingers for me. Show me you can.” I obeyed, snapping my fingers repeatedly until he told me to stop.

“I’m going to silence you now, because you’re going to come for me again, and while you do, I want you to think only of searing that lesson into your brain. No whimpering, no whining, no begging. Understand?” When I nodded eagerly, still drifting on that pleasure high, he added, “If you need me to stop, snap your fingers.”

My mouth snapped shut. My jaw muscles were drawn tight, my teeth clenched together, my sounds held captive behind my sealed lips. It was psychic magic; the demon was nudging my brain to make my body obey.

Callum sank to his knees, and with his two fingers probing my ass, he swirled his tongue over my clit. A cry rose in my throat but didn’t make it past my lips as he closed his mouth over me.

The mausoleum was shockingly quiet. Only the lewd sounds of Callum’s tongue and fingers remained. My body shook, limbs trembling as the ropes held me tight and secure. All I could do was soundlessly scream his name as he brought me to orgasm again.

Dusk had fallen by the time my demon carried me back to the house. Clinging to his back, lying between his wings with every muscle limp and weak, I listened to him talk as I drifted in and out of sleep. He was telling me everything he knew about wraiths: their strengths, their weaknesses. Half the words, I was able to log away in my brain for later.

The other half drifted in one ear and out the other.

I enjoyed listening to him. The timbre of his voice was soothing, deep and rumbling. At first, I wasn’t entirely sure what the warm, swollen feeling in my chest meant. It was comfortable; like how I felt on those rare nights when the rest of my family would leave me at home alone and I could simply listen to music, lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling for hours of contented bliss.

Was this feeling…safety? That was certainly part of it.

But it was more than that too. I was half-asleep as he carried me in the front doors, and his voice softened, but I was glad he didn’t stop talking.

How many years had he spent talking only to himself, before he found someone who wanted to listen?

“You should eat something,” he said. My tired eyes fluttered open for a moment, and I groaned, nuzzling my face against his neck. “What do you need from me, my lady?”

“Play,” I said softly, and he chuckled.

“I hardly think you have the energy to play anymore,” he said, but I shook my head.

“No, I wantyouto play,” I said sleepily. “The piano.”

I was shocked by the tenderness of his voice. “Of course. As you wish.”

He laid me on the chaise lounge in the piano room, leaving the curtains open so I could look out at the night sky. The fire lit itself, and I snuggled into the blankets. Callum sat on the bench and traced his fingers over the keys, rocking his head from side to side as if imagining a melody.

When he played, it felt like a waking dream. The melody was unfamiliar, but I swayed to it as if I’d known it all my life.

27

Everly

The massive vault door appeared even more daunting today than the first time I’d seen it. Little puffs of steam and random sparks flew from the mechanism, as if the entire apparatus was aware the grimoire was near and was excited to be reunited.

Callum had gone into the forest to check on something Darragh had mentioned to him and had yet to return. The Woodsprie had been expanding a magical shield into the woodlands around the house to discourage the Eld from intruding too close. But something in the forest to the northwest kept breaking the barrier, so Callum had gone to investigate.

He wasn’t happy about it either. He grumbled all morning, arguing with Grams about whether or not the vault should be opened while he wasn’t in the house.

“It’s nothing but a load of books and papers in there,” Grams insisted. “Certainly nothing to fear. Your precious witch won’t come to any harm if she’s out of your sight for a few hours.”

He still wasn’t convinced by the time he left. I wasn’t sure if I was flattered he was so concerned, or ashamed he felt I couldn’t defend myself without him.

He wasn’t wrong, either. My time spent in the mausoleum yesterday had certainly increased my confidence tousemagic, but I was far from skilled. I didn’t yet have the technique to use it confidently.

But as Grams said, I didn’t expect to find anything in a library that was particularly threatening. At worst, maybe there was another wraith hiding in there. As a precaution, she taught me a spell to conjure ripping winds, strong enough to tear a wraith to pieces. We practiced in the foyer before heading to the library, and Grams wasn’t satisfied until I could manifest the spell without even uttering the words.

It wasn’t easy, and my technique was sloppy. The magic I conjured was too strong, swiftly spiraling out of my control. The wind I summoned would often become a firestorm, swirling with hot licking flames that singed my hands.

“We have leather gloves somewhere in this house,” Grams said, as I winced at another blister on my palm. “Your great Aunt Cynthia was a skilled fire witch. Her things will likely fit you.”

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