Chapter 4
MALRIK
She’s so pretty, my new little obsession, with her striking white hair that fades into red, perfectly matching her plump lips.
Up close, the other day, I noticed the delicate freckles dotting her nose—thirteen little constellations that I counted whilst she glared at me, her eyes like daggers, as if she wanted to chop me up into little pieces.
Thirteen. Now that’s my favourite number.
For weeks now, I’ve watched her, unseen and unbothered.
I marvelled at her as she practised her magic, foraged for herbs in the depths of the forest, and treated the mythical creatures with a softness that made my dead heart race.
I might have even watched her bathe once or twice, the way the water cascaded over her skin, glistening in the light.
She’s something else, something that will be mine.
I can smell the raw magic pulsing within her, a tantalising force waiting to be unleashed. I don’t understand why she holds back. She could easily take control of Velmore with her power and toss that bitch Vespera aside.
I have no love for the cruel leader, but unfortunately, I’m not here to end her.
My focus is solely on the enchanting witch before me.
She doesn’t realise the chaos she could unleash, the world she could dominate.
I would gladly spend all day on my knees for my little witch, preferably with her legs wrapped around my head.
She’s magnificent.
Now, the dragon—that was a delightful surprise. They’re supposed to be extinct, a myth of the old world. If anyone discovers his existence, he’ll be hunted down and killed without mercy.
I will never let anyone lay a finger on my little witch, not even those three bastards who I might not even be able to get rid of.
I’ve crossed paths with them countless times, and Darian?
He’s a bastard through and through. The other two don’t particularly bother me as much, but if they ever did hurt her, I would happily break every single bone in their body and rip their insides out before making them choke on it.
They’re bound by duty to report any crimes to the council, and the mere knowledge of my little witch having a dragon would be her death.
Ravena and her dragon are my priority now, and I’ll carve a blood path to keep them safe, no matter the cost.
I had been away from her for a few days, busy dealing with the pesky vampires who had somehow tracked me down in their relentless pursuit of Ravena.
It was almost entertaining to dismantle their bodies, each dismemberment accompanied by a wide, manic smile as I hummed ‘heads will roll’ as I threw their remains off cliffs.
As I entered the woods, leaving behind the outskirts that separated the realms, her cottage came into view.
It was a comforting sight against the darkening backdrop of the approaching winter.
The air was crisp and cold, a reminder that the season was changing, while clear skies allowed delicate snowflakes to drift lazily down from above.
There she was, outside with her dragon, who had grown significantly since our last encounter when he had scorched my arse. I decided to give him a pass, fully aware that he could incinerate me in an instant.
Still, I hadn’t yet had a taste of my little witch, and the anticipation of that moment sent a shiver of excitement down my spine.
Her scent was utterly intoxicating—ripe cherries, sweet and succulent—wafting through the air like a tempting promise.
It quickly became my favourite indulgence, a delicious reminder of her essence that lingered long after our encounters.
Each time I caught a whiff of that fruit aroma with a vanilla hint, my desire to claim her grew more vigorous, sparking a fire within me that I couldn’t ignore.
I swiftly pivoted to the side as one of her daggers whizzed past, narrowly missing my head.
My reflexes kicked in, and I managed to catch the next one mid-air, the blade's tip slicing through my finger.
I chuckled as I flipped the dagger playfully in the air.
I noticed her dragon that now towered over her slightly with his head raised, standing protectively in front of her.
What the hell was she feeding that beast?
“Do you seriously have nothing better to do?” She asks, arms crossed defiantly.
She looks enchanting in that pale blue dress, the fabric hugging her figure perfectly and reaching her knees, while her hair cascades down in lustrous waves over her breasts, which seems almost too tempting for my sanity.
Damn it, I was always turned on around her. Every moment in her presence was a tantalising dance between desire and danger, and the closer I got, the more I wanted to claim her.
Preferably with my cock.
“Not particularly. So, little witch, were the hunters pissed the other night when I left?” I asked, glancing at her dragon, who huffed and regarded her with an intensity that made me raise an eyebrow.
Hmm, they could communicate.
Dragons are more than just a familiar to witches—they are their own powerful beings, independent yet bonded to those they choose.
Unlike other familiars, one can perish without the other, but that doesn’t weaken their connection.
If anything, it makes them even more loyal.
Fiercely protective, a dragon will stand by their witch, not out of servitude but by choice, making their bond unbreakable.
Her dragon's silver eyes mirrored hers, and the disdain radiating from him was unmistakable. Tough luck for him—she was destined to be my future wife. She might not realise it yet, but that didn’t matter; the decision had already been made.
The bond we shared was inevitable, and I wouldn’t let anything or anyone, even a scaly guardian, stand in my way.
I tossed the dagger back at her, and she caught it with effortless grace, placing a reassuring hand on her dragon, who lowered himself to the ground with a disgruntled huff.
“Next time, just set them on fire, problem solved,” I suggested, strolling closer to her, the space between us crackling with tension.
She licked her lips, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to bite them.
“I’m not going to kill them,” My little witch scoffed, like I suggested something ludicrous.
“Why not? They’d kill you without a second thought.” I pointed out, taking in her body, and then my gaze drifted towards the cottage behind her. She must feel lonely out here, aside from her scaly companion.
“I don’t kill people who don’t deserve it.”
I laughed at that, “I’m surprised you’re still alive, being wanted by the king and all.”
I have been tracking her for some time. I know King Draevens' vampires have been after her. She’s managed to take them out with her fighting skills, which are pretty hot to watch. I may have decapitated a few to protect her.
Nobody knows she’s alive; they thought she died the night her mother was murdered. I know it needs to stay that way to protect her. If I could, I would rip all of them to pieces and feed them to her dragon, but I’m afraid I’m not the right person to take down all of her threats.
Her breath hitched, and she stormed forward, vines erupting from the ground to wrap around me, holding me firmly in place.
“You need to start talking, or I’ll bury this blade so deep in your arse you’ll be spitting metal for weeks.” She pulled a dagger out from beneath her dress. It was purple, so very her and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
I’m so fucking horny and gone for this woman.
As it pressed against my skin, I watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the pulse in her neck throbbing with intensity—it looked almost irresistible.
I couldn’t help but fantasise about how sweet she would taste, the heat of her body against mine, with my cock buried deep inside her as she makes me bleed.
“It’s no secret that King Draeven wants you. If it weren’t for the slaughter that awaits any vampire who dares to set foot in Velmore, there would be a lot more of them here. Believe me, there’s a pretty little bounty on your head. Trust me, little witch, I am on your side.”
I could sense the tension in her posture, the way her eyes narrowed in scepticism, but deep down she could trust me. I’d never want to cause her pain, unless it were the kind that came wrapped in pleasure. I would have this woman coming so hard and so often that she would beg me for mercy.
See? I was horny all the damn time.
The thought made me smirk, a wicked thrill coursing through me as I imagined her in many different positions to take her in.
She laughed, a sound that danced through the air like a teasing melody. “I could never trust you. I don’t even know your name.”
Ah, how could I have forgotten?
“It’s Malrik,” I replied, my voice smooth and steady.
“Blood mage and assassin at your service.” I leaned in slightly, the vines pulling, “But I already know your name, Ravena Sinclair. Twenty-three years old, born June fifth. An elemental. Low-level witch, or at least that’s what they would say.
But we both know you’re so much more than that.
You adore strawberries and chocolate, animals and have a penchant for stargazing. ”
A vine wrapped around my mouth, silencing me. I chuckled against its grip. I could practically taste her beautiful cherry and vanilla scent; I just wanted to bury my nose against her neck.
“You’ve been stalking me?” She asked, a sneer curling her lips. Her dragon let out a low growl, the intensity of his presence washing over me. I could practically feel the heat radiating from him.
I really hoped he wouldn’t grow any larger as his fire would be a lot more powerful, and I would be nothing but ashes on the floor instead of the burn on my arse.