Chapter 1 #3
I feel the curve of her smile. “It’s been so long since anyone has called me by it that I seem to have forgotten it.”
“Well, I must call you something,” I insist, torturing myself with the tease of our lips, touching without pressing into a kiss. “When I was a girl, I used to pretend I was a companion to a princess of a far-off land. Her name was Ivy, like the plant.”
It seems fitting. I used to admire the thick clumps of leaves, how they’d creep into the woods and cover everything.
“Ivy,” she says. “I like that.”
I pause for a heartbeat and rise on my tiptoes, draping my arms over her bare shoulders.
We’re kissing, and I’m not sure who started it, but soon our mouths are meeting in a warm tangle of tongues and teeth.
I’ve wanted so much for so long, but somehow my desire is deeper than it’s ever been.
I’m out of breath when she leans back slightly to toy with the ribbon at the top of my nightgown.
One tug and it comes undone. The V of my neckline falls open. She slips her fingers underneath the fabric, skimming the tops of my breasts lightly. Her brown irises darken and bleed out into the corners of her eyes. Firelight swims in her blackened orbs. “Does this scare you?”
“Not at all.” It’s not a lie. I’m mesmerized by this creature of a woman who is touching me with more tenderness than I ever thought I’d experience.
I decide to prove it to her by inching my hem up higher, my nerves dissipating when my knee grazes her thigh.
All of the anxiety I have about being seen melt away as she touches me with gentle expertise.
Intimacy has always been a mystery to me, something my friends reported to be rough and unpleasant when they spoke of it at all. Still, I peel my nightgown off over my head, and our bodies come back together naturally.
Her hands are suddenly everywhere—stroking my soft belly and scooping up my hair.
We’re still kissing as she walks me to the countertop, bumping me up against the edge until I’m sitting on it.
She runs her tongue over my lips and works her way lower, trailing my neck with kisses interspersed with little licks.
A burst of insecurity flares through me as she pauses at my breasts, but she cups one in her hand, and that feeling disappears as she purrs, “So pretty. What a shame that no one has shown these the attention they deserve, but I’ll make up for what the fools in your village are missing.”
She pulls one of my nipples between her teeth. I let out a groan, a bolt of lightning shooting white-hot heat through me as she sucks it into a stiff pink peak. She lets me go, my wet skin tightening as it cools.
“Let me make you feel good too,” I say, but it’s a selfish plea. I have a sudden appetite for her, and I want to taste her body.
She tips her head back, sinking to her knees. “There’s plenty of time to show you what I like if you decide to run away with me. Tonight is about pleasing you.”
Nudging my thighs apart, she nestles her face in my mound and uses her fingers to part my curls, teasing the sensitive flesh in between.
I’ve felt unbearable pressure there before without having any idea how to release it, but never anything like this.
It rises and swells beneath her tongue, and I dig my fingers into the ridges in the wood, searching for something to hold on to as this new sensation takes over me.
I buck my hips to feel more of it, sending the contents within the pots and jars scattered across the surface rattling within their containers.
The whole cabin is filled with the wet noise of what she’s doing to me.
Shadows dance over Ivy’s face as my stomach clenches, and a rush of pleasure rolls up my body, breaking in a wave that makes me bite back a scream.
The candle flames rise higher, creating an inferno that glitters back in her eyes as she licks her lips and flutters her fingers over my bud, bringing me down softly.
“Did that do it?” I ask, feeling changed. “Did that make me immortal like you? Was it magic?”
The corner of her mouth tugs into a satisfied smirk. “Believe it or not, mortals are capable of achieving that. No, that wasn’t magic.”
“It felt like it,” I whisper.
“Wait ‘til I show you the real thing.” She saunters across the moth-eaten rug to grab a white gown slung over the back of a chair and pulls it on over her head. It’s a luxurious garment. Plenty of folks would balk at the frivolity of the lace hem that flounces over her feet.
I reach for my own nightgown in a hurry, feeling exposed.
“I hate to see you getting dressed so quickly.” She sighs, her eyelids dropping heavy. “But unfortunately, I have a feeling that my time in these woods is coming to an end. I should start making preparations for our journey before it’s too late. We should eat something.”
She moves to the counter and ties an apron around herself as I drop down to my feet.
“You brought a lot with you,” I muse, taking my place beside her as she pours a glass jug of brown liquid into a large pot.
“I only brought the essentials,” she says, dumping the pot into the large black cauldron swinging over the ashes in the fireplace. “I carry them with me in my bag. I bought the rest, but most of it can stay here when we leave.”
She takes a small bottle from her apron pocket, shakes a fair amount in, and begins mumbling under her breath—a fire roaring to life beneath the cauldron.
“Can you teach me how to do that?” I ask.
“Of course. But we must be patient,” she says. Her eyes are wary as she watches ribbons of smoke curl up to the chimney. “The hunters will know where to find me. We should be ready for them to approach us at any moment.”
“Should we run now?”
She stirs the concoction she’s brewing. “Not yet. There’s something we must do to seal our deal.”
“What is it?”
“It’s something you have to see for yourself, but when it’s time, I’ll leave it up to you.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. I don’t know what could possibly make me turn down her offer, but I’m glad she’s giving me a choice. I can’t remember the last time I got to make a choice. “Thank you.”
A warm, nutty scent emanates through the space, and the woman—Ivy—scurries over to the woodstove in the corner, opening the iron latch.
There’s a fire going inside as bright and uncanny as the one on the hearth.
She takes a paddle from the hook above it, wipes it on her apron, and removes a perfectly formed loaf of bread.
My stomach rumbles as she sets it on the cooling rack. I can practically taste the steam rolling off of it. “That looks delicious.”
“I hope you’ll like it. I knew tonight would finally be the night we’d meet.” She hums happily, tossing a look over her shoulder. “I thought you might get hungry.”
The doors have fallen off the cupboards, but stacks of clean, glazed dishes and cups sit inside them. I chalk that up to magic and reach for a plate, but she slides up beside me before I can grab one.
“Shh,” she cautions, pressing a finger to her lips. “Do you hear that?”
I strain my ears for a moment and shake my head. She wiggles her lower jaw from side to side, considering something. “They’re early. Our whole timeline has been rushed here. I’ll show you what we must do forever now.”
My nerves are bubbling up like the brew she has going on the hearth as we take two candles and head out into the night, the porch creaking beneath our feet. She goes rigid, her spine stiffening and eyes narrowing in on the rustling leaves at the edge of the clearing.
“What are you two ladies doing out here, unsupervised in the middle of the night?” asks a man, and my stomach turns over as I recognize his brusque tone.
“Elizabeth?” Arthur Hill’s steps into view, the torch in his right hand casting shadows in the deep lines etched into his furrowed brow.
“I’ve known your family for years. They wouldn’t approve of you being out here.
” He holds out a hand. “I have seen what she keeps in there. Come with me before this woman leads you down a path of wickedness. I won’t let the others find you out here.
” He thrusts his hand forward again, more forcefully. “Come back now before they see you.”
“It’s up to you,” Ivy says, but something long forsaken has already been awakened inside me.
Whatever consequences I’ll face will be better than what he’s offering—wifely duties piled upon chores in a new place.
I don’t want to shrivel from fatigue like Rebecca did, don’t want to be a container of crushed girlhood dreams, a cabin with its walls caving in.
“I’m not going with you,” I declare, loud enough for him to hear. It’s too late to turn back now. I’d rather die chasing the forbidden mysteries of life than settle for his false security. Ivy’s lips part enough in a proud smile that it shows her teeth.
My confidence falters as Arthur stomps toward me.
“Yes, you are, Elizab—” His boot goes right through a hole in the middle porch step, and he lets out a string of curses unfit for a gentleman.
“You’ll be punished right along with this witch if you don’t leave,” he seethes, his ankle trapped in the rotted wood.
“Think about what she’s done to our village. Look at what she’s done to me.”
“I didn’t do anything to your village,” Ivy says, rolling her eyes. Her hair and gown shine in a sliver of moonlight. She looks like she’s gliding as she walks to the top porch step, putting herself above him. “I only harm the ones who are truly wicked at heart.”
Arthur’s eyes widen as she leans down so close that I think she’s about to kiss him, but she stops before their lips touch and forms an O with her mouth, making a sucking sound. She inhales deeply for longer than I can hold my breath, drawing the air from his body.
I watch his face wrinkle and wither, and I do nothing to stop her because I know her assessment of his wickedness is correct.
I can feel it. Finally, he crumples near her feet, a shriveled husk of the man he used to be.
Ivy pulls a tear-shaped bottle from her apron pocket.
She spits a vapor into it, misty tendrils snaking beneath the lid she screws it onto.
Wiping her mouth, she heads back into the cabin wordlessly and stirs the cauldron a few times before she turns to me.
“Shall we finish our meal?” she asks, a question on her face as she pours the jar of vapors in. “If you drink this, you will be like me. Soul-harvesting will become your duty.”
“We’ll only steal from the wicked?”
“That’s how I’ve been doing it for centuries,” she answers. “It can be done, with a little observation and intuition. But I won’t stop you if you want to leave. There’s still time to make it out of these woods before the others come for me.”
She lifts the ladle, scooping up the hot liquid.
I take it from her, my mind made up already.
Closing my eyes, I sip slowly, the taste of apples, cinnamon, and nutmeg mingling on my tongue.
It’s a mulled cider that numbs my mouth from the heat.
Warm tingles spread over my scalp and down my body, filling me with a strength I’ve never known before.
I finish the serving, lightheaded and laughing.
“Welcome to forever,” Ivy says, dipping the ladle back into the cauldron as I fetch two mugs for us. She fills hers and knocks it back. “Isn’t it soul-delicious?”
I clink my mug against hers. “‘Tis.”
She shudders at the same time I do, sensing something we cannot see or hear. “They’re coming. Let’s get out of here.”
My premonition of danger is growing stronger now. “What if they catch us?”
“They won't.” Slinging her large black bag over her shoulder, she takes the two besoms from beside the door and hands one to me. Then she mounts hers like a horse. “Trust me.”
Still, anxiety coils tight inside me when we move outside, and I see the flicker of torches between the trees. There are a lot of people here—twenty or thirty.
Broomsticks wedged between our legs, she takes my hand and says, “Jump with me on the count of three. One … two … three.”
My heels press off from the decayed wood, and I bound upward, launching up into the sky like a bird. Folks shout down below us, but their flames are shrinking as we fly toward the swollen moon, cackling.