Chapter 6 #2
His voice dropped slightly, edged with something cold, completely changing the conversation, “You held your own, I’ll give you that. Wasn’t expecting vampires whilst the sun was still up, though.”
That brief flash of malice, a hunter's raw, quiet fury, was gone just as quickly as it came. Buried beneath his usual easy-going smile, but I saw it. I knew it. In the same way, I knew Ronan might joke and flirt, but beneath all that charm, he was still a killer.
He still worked for Vespera.
He could kill me, and he would—if he knew.
“He’s a chatty one,” Xarothar grumbled.” I can’t even talk to him, and he still won't shut up.”
I laughed quietly at that, earning a curious quirk on Ronan’s brow.
Up close, he was even more unfairly handsome.
I had watched him before—whenever I ventured into town or when he and the other hunters lingered at the forest's edge. But now, in the firelight, I noticed what distance never allowed me to see. His eyes weren’t just blue.
They were laced with flecks of green, deep and rich—like moss-covered stone beneath dappled sunlight.
He smelled of cedarwood and something sharp and citrusy, like a bergamot —clean and fresh, with just a hint of something wild underneath. A storm rolling over in the trees.
“You’re the witch my brother has been searching for.” He finally said, his voice was quieter. He had been staring at me for a while —but to be fair, I was staring right back.
I wasn’t sure how to react around men, especially ones that I found attractive. I’d never been around them unless they were vampires trying to kill me or take me back to Eclipsara.
“Looking for me?” I asked, my grip tightening slightly on my leg.
Instead of answering me, he nudged the bowl of soup toward me. “Eat, Raven, it's fine. You need it.” Xarothar was backing him up.
I hesitated only a second before taking it with my good arm, the warmth seeping into my fingers.
The scent of spices and herbs curled into the cold night air, and suddenly I realised how hungry I was.
I didn’t understand why he was being so nice or why he helped me at all.
Sure, he hunted vampires, but that didn’t mean he had to spare me.
I was also an unregistered witch with a dragon.
Still, I lifted the spoon to my lips, the rich flavour hitting my tongue.
A soft sigh of satisfaction escaped before I could stop it, followed by a low groan that didn’t come from me.
I opened my eyes to see Ronan shifting slightly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
His eyes flickered to mine, unreadable, but there was something sharp in them—something I couldn’t quite place.
Hunger? Amusement? Who knew, but it was a bit intoxicating.
I needed him to leave before my thoughts spiralled further.
“Hmm, Darian has become a little obsessed with finding the witch who managed to put him on his arse the other night,” Ronan said finally, a playful glint in his eye, before continuing.
“It’s quite funny watching him lose his temper over it.”
“Well, you found me,” I replied, taking another spoonful of the delicious soup and trying to keep my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach.
Ronan chuckled, leaning back slightly, his teasing smile growing wider.
“My lucky day indeed. Now, Cherry, why are you hiding out here in the woods with something that is meant to be extinct and goes against the old laws?” He was calm, but the underlying authority in his voice was impossible to miss.
I bit my lip, glancing at Xarothar, who was now glaring daggers at Ronan.
The tension in the air crackled like a live wire, and I could see Xarothar's protective instincts surging to the forefront. It was as if he was daring Ronan to take a step too far. I couldn’t help but wish Malrik were here.
I didn’t know him well, but he at least knew me, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t be too thrilled about all of this.
Still, that odd sensation was stirring within me, similar to how I felt when Malrik was around, but having a hunter know my whereabouts wasn’t good for me.
“If he tries anything, I will burn him alive.”
I reach out to pat my dragon, trying to soothe his aggression whilst keeping an eye on Ronan. Thank the stars he called me Cherry, it meant he couldn’t report my real name.
I have no idea if the Anelite council knows about me, so keeping my name a secret is a must.
In Velmore, all witches were required to register with the council, which meant Vespera would know precisely who lived here and who would be breaking any of the laws. There was no freedom here, and I refused to be shackled to that bitch.
“It’s none of your business.” I told him, my defiance flaring, “And if you were going to do something about it, you would have already.”
I shifted onto my knees, determined to stand, and Xarothar nudged me gently to offer support. I was done with this conversation. Ronan might be drop-dead gorgeous, but my instincts screamed to protect myself at all costs.
He stood and took a step closer to me, utterly unfazed by Xarothar's low growl, his intensity shifting the atmosphere around us.
“It became my business when I kept you hidden from my brothers and the High Coven.
I am breaking so many rules for you, and I have no idea why.
The least you could do is tell me how a low-level witch has managed to stay hidden for so long and why those vampires were after you—not just any vampires, but the King's soldiers.”
His body was closer to me now, face inches from me, and I could feel the heat radiating between us, my chest tighter.
“He has a point,” Xarothar interjected.
“Whose side are you on?”
“Always yours,” he replied, reassuring me as he stood to his full height, and I tilted my head to look at him.
“He has looked after you for days now, and nobody has come. Even if he is annoyingly chatty, he has kept us a secret when he didn’t have to, and he treated your wounds.”
Ronan glanced between us, and he was so much closer to me, his presence dominating the space around me.
“I don’t trust you,” I stated firmly.
“Didn’t say you did,” he countered, his voice softening. “Trust is earned, and for some reason, I want yours.”
The heat in my chest intensified; his smell was literally mouthwatering, and I kind of wanted to climb him like a tree.
Shut up, stupid brain.
Oh god. I had a nagging suspicion about what was stirring within me, but there was no way I could ever admit it; doing so would expose my darkest secret.
Ronan might not want me dead right now, but that would surely change if he ever found out.
“My dragon doesn’t want to eat you, so I suppose I can share a little.” Ronan stepped back, his expression curious yet patient, and I felt like I could think a bit clearly.
“Nothing about the king.”
Yeah, that was one thing nobody could know.
“Yes, I’m an unregistered witch, and I intend to stay that way; that’s why I have been living here with my dragon. I’m also dying from a spell that was put on me years ago to bind my magic.” I looked at him and hoped that would be enough.
“You can’t tell anyone I am here, and I know that goes against everything you were trained for, but please, keep this a secret.” A wave of nausea washed over me, but having Xarothar next to me helped.
“Thank you.” I sent a wave of warmth and gratitude towards my dragon, grateful for his support.
“I’ll take that for now, Cherry. Don’t tell me your name just yet.
Consider it a little deal between us. When you can trust me, you can share it.
” He flashed me half a smile, “I have to go, I’ve got a meeting tomorrow, and then I will be on patrol at the borders.
I’ll visit when I can, but do your best to avoid more vampires. ”
He stood straight, “I will keep you and your dragon a secret. Just remember, I’m not like all the other hunters.” In a swift motion, he leaned in and softly kissed my cheek before walking off into the night.
I pressed my hand against the spot where his lips touched, feeling a tingling warmth bloom there as I watched him disappear. My chest ached in a way I didn’t fully understand.
“Looks like you’re building your own little harem,” Xarothar teased me.
I nearly choked on air, whipping my head to glare at him. “How do you even know what a harem is?”
“I can read, you know, and can I say you read some very explicit material,” he chuckled in my mind.
I huffed in response. “Stop reading my damned books over my shoulder. I already have a thief who keeps going through my stuff.” I loved my why-choose books, stories where a woman could have more than one man who loved her in return. I always wondered what it would feel like.
“You might find out one day.”