8. The Wolf and the Witch
The Wolf and the Witch
? *
Greta whirled around, heart jumping into her throat. She thought she’d heard a twig snap behind her, but that wasn’t possible. Other than her, nothing lived in the Redwoods. Placing a hand to her racing heart, she glanced down into a basket of herbs held aloft in her right hand. Some were hardy, capable of thriving in the most improbable environments, like a cursed forest.
Deciding she had plenty of herbs for future spells, she continued striding forward, magick calling to magick. The old weather-down cabin came into view, causing her magick to thrum in her chest. It recognized the protective barrier encircling the cabin, borne of blood. It was her spell, her magick calling to itself, like to like.
Her body froze and hairs raised on her neck when she heard a sound playing frequently in her dreams. A sinister growl shattering the quiet. Fighting a whimper, she dropped the basket and sprinted for the safety of her barrier. Tears streamed down her face and her lungs burned within seconds, but the cabin rested merely a few feet away.
A screeched ripped from her throat when something gray tackled her mid-sprint, sending her careening to the ground. Damp leaves clung to her skin, and she squirmed underneath the Lycan above her. Normal wolves lacked their size and intelligence. It had waited for her, probably even watched her leave.
Its maw opened, clamping razor-sharp teeth around her neck. Paws rested firmly on each of her arms, effectively pinning her beneath the four-legged creature. Revulsion and bile churned in her stomach. At least, it hadn’t eaten her or tackled her in Lycan form. Reaching for her magick, she paused when an unfamiliar voice resounded in her mind. Calm yourself, witch .
Wide eyed, her breathing came faster. She’d never heard a Lycan speak in her mind before. Taking stock of her body, she noted the sharp points of his teeth rested against her neck, barely applying pressure. Slowly, he stretched his mouth wider, slipping her neck from between his teeth. Red eyes rested above a wolf’s muzzle, gazing down at her.
Its fur rippled, followed by the chilling sound of bones snapping. Unable to tear her eyes away, she watched fur give way to olive skin, the moon’s glow caressing a handsome face poised above her. Her eyes widen further once a naked male Lycan finished transforming and casually straddled her hips. His hands rested on muscled thighs and a slight tremor racked his body. Flushing, she tore her eyes away from his thighs and the half-hard rod resting between them. Lycans paraded around naked often in the palace. Her nipples had never hardened into tight buds at seeing her captors naked.
He leaned down, running a patrician nose along the column of her neck, inhaling deeply. She held back a squeak, fighting the urge to squirm for a different reason. Tugging on her magick once more, a calmness spread from the center of her chest. She wasn’t a weak witch bound by iron. She held power within her grasp.
“I don’t mean you any harm, witch,” he rumbled against her skin, sending pleasurable shivers down her spine. She resisted tilting her body more firmly against his.
“I don’t believe you,” she whispered, loathe to fill the woods with her words. Remembering the entity, she brought her palms to push against his bare chest. It rippled beneath her palms and she swore sparks flew from their point of contact. Dearest Hecate, what is this?
“Stop that, witch.” His hands came to rest against her own. She jerked them back, scowling up into emerald eyes, heated with something she didn’t want to define.
“Get off me. I have to get back to the cabin.” He didn’t budge, forcing a growl from her. He chuckled before slowly sliding off her and reaching a hand down to help her up.
“Bite me,” she snapped, rising to her feet without help.
“Is that an invitation?” His full lips stretched into a dazzling smile. Her magick pulsed in her chest. Her hands flew blindly to her sternum. He shot her a quizzical look.
“Are you hurt, witch?”
“My name is Greta, not witch!” Patience worn thin, she strode away from, pausing only when she remembered her basket. His chest warmed her front when she twirled back around. He shot a quick hand out, fingers digging into her hips, bringing their pelvis flush.
“Careful, Greta,” he purred, making her knees buckle slightly. Shaking her head, she stepped back, surprised when he didn’t fight it. Sighing, he brought a hand to rake through dark hair reflecting the moon’s glow. Goddess, he was handsome, she thought absurdly.
“What’s in these woods?” he asked, a solemn expression gracing his face. A square jaw clenched and his eyes flashed briefly, reminding her exactly what stood in front of her. An animal. Stepping back some more and ignoring his question, she cast a glance behind her.
A snarl whispered across her skin, causing her to jump, bringing her breast firmly against his chest. Turning her back to him was a mistake.
“I thought I asked you to stop that,” he whispered in her ear. He inhaled harshly again. She fought a full-body shudder, not wanting her harden nipples to brush against the warmth seeping through their clothes.
“Stop what?” It came out more as a gasp than a whisper. She berated her body’s response. Lycan , she reminded her body. Scars still marred her skin from their abuse. But we’ve never hurt you . That voice in her head was akin to a bucket of ice water seeping through her clothes and threatening to paralyze her limbs.
“How are you doing that?” she asked.
Cocking a brow, he replied smoothly, “I asked first.” His eyes hardened as he flicked them around their surroundings. “Are we in danger outside your cabin, Greta?”
“Yes.” He stooped down, wrapping one hand around her basket and gesturing for her to continue walking with the other. She rolled her shoulders with a resigned sigh. At least he hasn’t killed me , she assured herself. Barely healed blisters flaring with pain every other step reenforced her resolve.
Smiling, she closed the distance between her barrier and the rest of Redwoods. That smile turned into a full chuckle when his growl echoed in the space between them. He’d slammed right into her barrier, her magick not recognizing him as friend but foe.
“Don’t play games, witch,” he snapped, lips pulled back into a snarl and green eyes flicker to red every other beat.
She walked to the edge of her barrier, eyes roving over him, assessing his threat level.
“I don’t mean you any harm. If I wanted to hurt you, I could’ve ripped your throat out when you were beneath me. Now, let me in so we can talk.”
“What do we have to talk about, wolf?” she asked him, raising a brow like he’d done moments before.
His lips twitched, and he huffed a breath through his nose. “Your future. Now, let me in.” Full lips thinned and green eyes narrowed on her, a challenge clear in the viridescent depths.
Raising her chin in challenge, she asked, “And what do you know about my future, dog?” His eyes flickered to red and remained there. Good . He’d had her off kilter since he tackled her. She wanted him as riled up as he’d gotten her.
Suddenly, his lips spread into a smile, flashing deadly sharp canines. “You’re mine, witch. And if you want to know more, lift the barrier.” He folded his arms across a muscled chest. It took a great deal of restraint keeping her eyes above his waist. Her traitorous body wanted to look, especially after his proclamation.
She walked away from him and the growls he’d released before paled compared to the sound erupting from his throat and arrowing straight to her core. Gasping, she threw a hand out, bracing against the unexpected onslaught of lust coursing through her. Something primal tightened within her. Fighting shivers, she trudged through the cabin’s doors, not risking a look behind her. Closing the door, she took several calming breaths, but her entire body ached, pulsed for something she shouldn’t want. She shook her head and glanced around her work area for a knife.
One room served as the entire living space. A small table rested in the middle of the room, with various vials and herbs on it. Hides and pelts hung from hooks in the ceiling. Greta marched to the worktable, swiping an athame off the varnished wood. She braced herself on the walk back out of the cabin. Geralt pressed both palms against the invisible dome, blood slipping down his hands and crimson eyes flared brighter at her approach.
She ignored him, pressing the tip of the athame against one finger, urging one drop of blood free. Whispering an incantation, “defendat,” she smeared her bloody finger against the ground where she’d buried the body of her first sacrifice. The greater the sacrifice, the stronger the protection. Through her third eye, she witnessed the barrier pulse, collapse, and spring back up again. Geralt fell forward during the collapse, landing on his hands and knees within the barrier before it re-erected.
“Let’s talk, wolf,” she spoke down to him. Illicit pleasure raced through her, standing above him while he stared up at her with red wolf eyes.
* ? Song of choice: You Put a Spell on Me - Austin Giorgio