Untethering Dark

Chapter Nineteen

Gudarīks found the witch sitting on the tree stump outside her yard, a new plate of Pl?tzchen balanced on her lap. As she gazed up at him, her pale, mismatched eyes reflected the golden sunset behind him. So warm and inviting, like she was tonight’s true offering.

His mouth watered.

Was this intentional?

Before the blood in his body rushed southward, he turned his attention to the treats she made. As much as he wasn’t ashamed of his attraction to her, he doubted she’d appreciate having his anatomy pointing directly at her face.

He crouched down to be more on her level. “Hello again, meine Hexechen. Have you been waiting long?”

She tucked a wayward, windblown strand behind her ear, her cheeks cold-kissed and rosy. “Only since last night.”

Her smile was sweet, a little shy, but she didn’t avert her eyes. The undercurrent of fear that he scented on her when they first met was gone. Good. He was here to woo the witch and, unless she wanted him to scare her, fear was off the table.

But how delicious it would be if she did want fear. To be chased and overpowered and claimed...

“I missed your company, too,” he said, forcing the words past the gravel in his throat. Now was not the time to think about claiming , as much as he would like to. He’d every confidence this beautiful and ruthless witch could handle it—could handle him—but a vile human had just broken into her home. One he could’ve dispatched days ago if only he had his wits about him.

All night, Gudarīks kept watch over her home, making sure the poacher didn’t return. And all night he wished himself inside, his body curled around hers. The comfort of her weight tucked firmly against him, the coolness of her skin, and the steady rise and fall of her chest as their breathing fell into rhythm. Just knowing that she was there and safe and completely his.

A few dozen meters and a stone wall stood between them. So close, and yet much too far away. She didn’t need the protection or the comfort, not like he needed her, but he couldn’t leave knowing someone had invaded her home.

“I see you’ve got the new wards up, and the garden looks good. You finished planting today?” This close to it he could feel the seedlings in the earth begin to germinate, aided along by Astrid’s skillful magic.

She nodded. “Thank you again for all your help. I’m sure you didn’t come expecting to be put to work.”

“Maybe not, but I didn’t mind. Truth be told, I spent much of the daylight hours waiting for sundown.”

“Oh?” Though she arched a brow, she was also fighting off a grin. “And what would you have done if I hadn’t tired you out with all the gardening?”

His gaze dipped to her lips. “Why, I would have asked to hear more about your vicious exploits. Throwing axes at hikers and such. Do you usually let them go free?”

“Are you asking me if I’ve ever not missed?” Her smile turned wicked. “Because if you are, I must inform you that a lady never kills and tells.”

“A shame. I really would’ve liked to know.”

Astrid was being coy. After three decades of offerings, he knew much of the blood that stained her hands, and that she’d make a fine hunting companion.

“Perhaps someday.” She winked and, propping an elbow on her knee, held the plate of cookies aloft. “Would you like to try?”

“Always.”

These ones had powdered sugar dusted on top; their middles filled with apricot jam. And when he bit into one—the taste of Astrid’s excitement and eager yearning danced on his tongue. Such decadent, irrefutable proof that her feelings reflected his own.

He took another. “What a sweet tooth you have given me.”

“If I had known a few batches of cookies was all it would take to win you over, I would have done this years ago,” she teased, brushing her thumb across his lower jaw. Powdered sugar came away on her finger, and the giddy feeling brewing inside him grew tenfold.

It wasn’t the cookies that had initially drawn him to her, though the unexpected gesture had been a delightful shock to his system. He quite liked her bravery and wicked cunning in the face of death, and that when she spoke to him that very first time, it wasn’t to beg and plead for her life. Even without the full powers of a Winter Hag, Astrid was a formidable creature, and he coveted her for himself.

“Still not over the fact that you accept market cold cuts, too.” She pouted.

“That’s a mistake I won’t soon repeat, but for you, Astrid...” He caught her hand, cool as ice, and clasped it in the palm of his. The need to touch her burned constantly. “I would’ve happily been bewitched sooner.”

Her heartbeat fluttered. “I’ve bewitched you?”

Thoroughly. Helplessly. “Is that surprising?”

“I didn’t know you were bewitchable.”

Stars, help him. He was.

That the witch held this much power over him was terrifying.

But there was more to her than the ruthless cunning he adored. He would never forget the kindness she showed him at his most vulnerable, when he quivered in her arms, haunted by the past. Instead of using his weakness to her advantage, she soothed.

Time and past mistakes had taught him how to sniff out false charm and scheming from a mile away. But his instincts weren’t infallible. The greatest hurts and betrayals were always the ones he never saw coming. And yet, shutting out the world, locking himself inside his head, hadn’t kept him safe either. Isolation never did anything other than loosen his grip on reality.

It was a lonely life. A half life.

The reward of being right about Astrid was worth the risk of being wrong.

Even if it destroyed him in the end.

Cradling her hand in his was an exercise in restraint, when all he wanted to do was hold on tight and never let go. All those delicate little bones beneath the skin were too easy to pop and crush, no matter how well accustomed they were to hard work. When the witch became a hag, the strength of her body would match her spirit, and he so looked forward to that day.

It also meant she’d be a greater threat to him, if she chose to be, but like called to like.

“I’ve lived long stretches of time without the companionship of others,” he finally replied. “Until recently, I have not given much thought to loneliness. But I realize now that there was an emptiness lying beneath the anger and hunger. I don’t want that to be all I live for anymore.”

Astrid leaned forward until she was just a hand’s width away. There was a faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose that he hadn’t noticed before, a microcosm of the constellations in the sky above. When he looked at her, he saw so much of the home he loved mirrored back.

“I want to get to know you, and the many millennia you’ve seen. If I can fill in any of that emptiness, be it with pastry or conversation or—” her cheeks reddened “—whatever you need, I’d be happy to do it.”

Desire curled around the base of his spine at the words she didn’t say out loud. Little witch. Little witch. “You’ve made quite an open-ended offer, and it’s made you blush. Are you hinting at something?”

“You’d like that if I was, wouldn’t you?”

“And if I did?”

She glanced down, blush deepening.

Tracing a claw lightly across the witch’s knee, Gudarīks watched her shiver. She hadn’t meant to look, but he liked that she did. Nudity was neither here nor there for someone such as himself, who’d never worn a stitch of clothing in his life. It meant something to her though.

Feast your eyes to your heart’s content, my little witch.

“I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t thought about it,” Astrid said, carefully keeping her gaze from straying again. There was no hiding how his arousal stretched between them.

“I think I’d like to hear more about the thoughts you’ve had.”

Hesitation stilled her, that pause taken when trying to find the right words to say, but it lasted only a moment. A soft sort of determination settled over her features, her eyes searching his.

What was she looking for?

Before he could nudge for an answer, she cupped his face with both hands, the warmth of her fingers spanning cheekbone to furred jawline. Even the fleshless, nerveless parts of him weren’t completely without sensation. Though the touch was more of a whisper, a faint tingling pressure, he felt it when she pressed a lingering kiss to his bony cheek.

Surprised breath hitched in his chest. So, this was what Perchta had unwittingly interrupted, this was what it felt like. No one had ever tried before, the agenda always much more direct.

He caught her wrists, gently, wanting to keep her and never let this kiss end. He wanted to pull her onto his lap, too, and slip a hand beneath her coat, but she was already pulling away. And he wouldn’t push for more. Not until she needed this, too. The denial would drive him wild before long, but oh, what an exquisite ache it was.

A little sigh escaped her lips, followed by a pleased, almost smug smile.

He found himself staring at them, wishing, wanting.

What he would give to have a pair of his own. To bring their mouths together and taste her. To spread open her thighs and sink his tongue into her wet heat. What would she yell when he brought her to the peak of pleasure? Would she call out his name? Cling to him and scream “Wald Vater”?

But as desperate as he was to know the answers to these questions, he could be patient. Everything would unfold in its proper time.

This witch was turning his world upside down and backward with each encounter. The spontaneity was proving to be a quite enjoyable change of pace. And that was enough.

Beneath a starry night sky and frosted pine boughs, Gudarīks sat in the snow between the witch’s knees, leaning against her and the stump where she perched. Her fingers ghosted along the prongs of his antlers, both soothing and exploratory.

Midnight came and went, and when Astrid yawned, he rose to his hooves. And as much as he still craved her touch, and the chance for another kiss, the witch wasn’t yet impervious to the elements. “You should warm up and get some sleep.”

It was the right thing to do, but stars above, he didn’t want to leave her. But what if...what if she invited him in? Took him to her bed and curled up in his arms? Gave him more of those sweet kisses and...

Rubbing her arms, she nodded drowsily. “Just hold on one moment. I want to give you something.”

He watched her disappear into the cottage with the plate of Kaiser-Pl?tzchen, trying not to give in to disappointment. When she returned, she carried a tin. “I thought you might want to take some home with you. Threw in a few from each of the other batches, as well. Springerle. Lebkuchenpl?tzchen. Pfeffernüsse.”

“Thank you.” He brushed his knuckles against her cheek before taking the tin. “That was thoughtful.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” The hopeful look in her eye tugged at his chest, made him even more reluctant to leave her company, but he wouldn’t invite himself in. If she wanted him to stay, that was for her to ask.

“At sundown,” he agreed, tearing himself away.

That time could not come soon enough. As he headed back to his den, the night was mercifully quiet, undisturbed by drunken human revelry. The only turmoil he suffered was longing.