Page 66 of Soul of a Witch

She laid her hand against my neck, nudging me closer with a demanding press of her fingers. “Talk to me…like before…like that night.” She sucked in a shuddering breath and her words grew steadier. “Tell me that I can take it for you.”

My eyes widened as I realized what she meant. That first night we’d fucked, when her strength had blossomed with just a little encouragement.

Her mouth tasted like blood and ash as I kissed her.

“If you can feel pain, that means you’re still alive,” I said, and she nodded against me. I trailed my hands over her body, feeling the ripple of her muscles beneath her skin, the softness around her hips and belly. “You’re a warrior, Everly. You can take the pain, you can endure it, I know you can.” With one hand tangled in her hair, I gripped the long blonde locks near the roots, smiling when she winced and then offered a small smile in return. “That’s it, that’s right. The pain means you’re alive.”

When I pressed the tip of the knife into her flesh, cherry-red blood welled around the blade and streaked down her skin. The sweet scent of her magic filled the air, heady and as intoxicating as liquor. It was remarkable every demon within a hundred miles hadn’t been drawn to her by now; but they’d have no chance at all if they pursued her.

She was mine. Entirely, wholly, irrevocably mine.

“Take it for me,” I murmured. Her face contorted with pain and her eyes rolled in her head, dangerously close to passing out. But as the ancient demonic runes bound us together, our strength mingled. I felt a rush of her pain, then bliss. The most perfect, stunning pleasure. Heat tingled through my veins. Hidden within her struggling body was a knot of magic so great that it made me shake.

She was not the only one made stronger by this bargain. I was too.

Blood smeared across her skin, but with every cut, she smiled a little wider, even when her eyes narrowed with pain. Warmth came back to her. The cuts were deep enough to scar but only barely, and she looked so beautiful with those stark red lines crisscrossing her stomach.

“It’s done,” I said gently. The knife vanished from my hand as I allowed the manifestation to dissolve. She was trembling violently, and she felt feverish, sweat beading on her forehead.

“The cuffs,” she growled. “The fucking cuffs…please…shit…”

Crouching over her, her legs splayed around my waist, I gripped one of the cuffs and warned her, “It’s going to hurt.”

She was nodding, squirming, every inch of her tense with anticipation. “I know. It means I’m alive.”

She screamed when the glass cracked in my hands. Barbed spikes tore out of her wrists as I pulled the shattered bits of glass off her flesh. The skin beneath was blackened with bruises, purple and yellow splotches marring her.

“You’re almost there,” I said, locking my hands around the other cuff.

I hated to hear her cry. Having to hurt her was agony, but I had no choice. My mind kept drifting into the past…to all the lives I was too late to save. All the beings I’d watched slip away.

I wouldn’t lose her too.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Just do it. It’s almost over.”

The sound of breaking glass was nearly drowned by the shriek that escaped from her. The cuffs’ wicked barbs were finally out of her, and life came back into her face. She held me breathlessly, clumsy hands caressing my neck as trembling legs wrapped tighter around me.

She looked like a wild creature, something untamed that had crawled in from the woods and now lay looking at me like a succubus. Bloody, face smudged with dirt, body covered in bruises and those fresh cuts on her stomach.

“Where were you?” she said. “You left me…you left for so long…”

“I was taken.” I burrowed my face against her neck, as if I could impress into her body how sorry I was. “Lucifer took me to Hell and I couldn’t escape until you summoned me. But he can’t take me from you again. Not anymore.” I trailed my fingers through the blood, the cuts that bound us as one. She smelled so sweet, and my head was light with all the magic in the air.

“I was so scared.” Her voice was weak with exhaustion. Her eyes drooped, her heart pounding steadily at last.

“I’m so sorry, my lady.” Laying my head against her chest, I listened to its beat, reassuring me with every throb that she was still with me.

For the first time, Everly slept in my arms.

She was limp and warm as she lay against my chest before the fire, a blanket draped over us and the bearskin rug beneath us. She slept for hours, regaining her strength. I was content to simply hold her, watching as the sun rose through the open windows and filled the room with pale light.

She shifted her weight as she awoke, lifting her face to look at me. My arm was curled beneath my head so I could see her.

“Tell me about your vision,” she said. “Tell me about the first time you saw me.”

She drew back when I stiffened, as if to separate her body from mine. Instantly, my arms tightened around her, demanding she stay.

“It will be easier to tell you if you’re close to me,” I said. Despite being the one event that had guided my actions for many centuries, this memory wasn’t one I preferred to recall.

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