by Meg Xuemei X
He gave me a look of disapproval, then decided the conversation was over.
“Stay here while I go fetch you the damn clothes,” he ordered.
Did he really think I, Freyja, would let him drag me along with his noblewoman?
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m curious as hell what your witch can offer you. I want to see you happy.”
He shot me a sour look. “I have a feeling that seeing me happy is the least of your concerns.”
“Then you think too small of me,” I said. “You and your true mate have my blessings. Go and mate and have dozens of mixed babies. And old Freyja will still be here.”
He didn’t move. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d say Ares didn’t want this noblewoman to be his fated witch.
I swatted his hand that was still on the small of my back and shoved him away. “Go take care of your witch before you piss her off. It took me great pain to find her. I won’t let you ruin this. The witch can disappear like the wind.”
He returned to her, and the duo walked downstairs together. Ares looked back at me before his head disappeared under the stairs. Regret tainted his expression.
I darted into the fitting room, shrugged off the dress, and put on my travelling outfit. I turned the cloak inside out so the gray lining was outside. If Ares ever went to seek me, he would look for the girl with a red cloak.
I flew down the narrow stairs, my hood concealing my face.
On the first floor, I spotted Ares and his fake witch chatting with ease while choosing outfits for me. She was in no hurry. She shook her head, put back the clothes Ares had picked, and led him to another rack.
There was this impatient and tormented look on Ares’ face. At another time, I would think that was funny.
Then she laid her hand on his arm. He stiffened at her touch, but he didn’t shrug her off. He stared at her intensely—at that moment, he didn’t see anyone but her—and she gazed back at him with open admiration and blatant desire.
My body was furious. It urged me to confront him and challenge her.
Forget it. He isn’t yours and never will be, I told my body and disregarded its raging jealousy. Say goodbye to the prince.
Let the noblewoman have her soft claws on him. I wished them all the happiness in the world.
While Ares still looked stupefied at his witch, I slid through the side exit and blended into the crowd.
CHAPTER 16
The Angels
Freedom didn’t taste as sweet as I had imagined, especially when I felt I lost more than gained. It was as if I’d left something so valuable behind, and I didn’t mean the three angelic daggers Ares held in his possession.
I pushed the vacant, nagging feeling out of my heart and followed the flow of the mass. I laid low and stayed alert since Einarr might be in the crowd, scouting. I wouldn’t underestimate him.
I reached the alley where we had had our little tryst. Sadness washed over me like waves as I stared into the long passage. Looking around me, and though I didn’t want to, I decided using the alley would be the best option.
I stopped at the spot and placed my palm against the cold stone wall where Ares had thrust into me. For one pleasurable, intense moment, his cock had filled me completely.
He could have me, if only he wanted just me—hot, fresh, eager and right in front of him. But he wanted his coveted First Witch more.
So now he got the noblewoman, a fake witch.
I would return to be me—wild and free, and I wouldn’t look back.
I strolled toward the other end, ready to leave the past behind me.
Overhead, shadows passed over my face before I heard the rapid flapping of wings, and it wasn’t the sound I associated with the guardians.
My blood iced over.
I tightened the hood on my head and sprang toward the other end. Once I reached the crowd, I would disappear in them again.
I looked up as I lurched forward.
A massive Archangel hovered above me.
Two other Angel sentinels appeared on either side of the alley and stalked toward me, black wings arching behind, long swords flashing in their hands.
There was no way in hell that I could take down all three Angel sentinels, but I wouldn’t roll over and offer my belly in submission.
I’d sworn to never let them capture me, knowing what they would do to me was much worse than death. I planned to snatch a dagger from one of them and plunge it into my own heart if I lost this battle. I would leave them with nothing but a rotting corpse.
I did a quick calculation.
Without my daggers and with my dark Angel power sealed at the bottom of the ice lake, all I had was my touch. I would have to entice them to get close enough. I hoped they hadn’t learned about my lethal touch.
The hunters closed in on me from the ground and the sky.
With their super hearing, they had to hear how violently my heart pounded.
It pumped raw fear and adrenaline.
The Angel in the sky descended toward me. This close, I could see the patch on his left eye and recognized my fine work—I’d sunk an angelic dagger into his eye at the depth of the lake.
I was twelve then.
He had come back for me, and I thought he was dead.
“Hello again, Princess,” the Angel called, his good eye a burning dark coal.
Angels were beautiful beings, yet they were the worst kind of monsters.
I flashed him my syrup smile. “Hello, gorgeous,” I purred. “I’ve missed you. You look exotic with that eye patch. Is it homemade?”
In less than a second, I’d stripped myself bare, a pile of clothes under my feet. On top of the heap were the velvet gloves the sorcerer gave me.
I was weaponless, but every inch of my skin was death.
If I went down, I went down with style.
THE WITCH’S
CONSORT
(The First Witch Book 2)
The Witch’s Consort
My name is Freyja. I will soon cease to exist unless I acquire a cure from the Fey in the twilight realm. The Fey Empress will kill me if she learns that I’m an abomination—a Nephilim. And I’m not just the spawn of any Angel, but the monstrous Angel King she beheaded.
The smoking-hot, formidable Dragonian prince, my abductor, knows nothing about my curse, or that I am his fated mate—The First Witch—he is desperately searching for. As we draw close to the Fey territory, a horde of my father’s former sentinels captures me. They plan to harvest my magic and drain me to resurrect the Dark Lord of All Angels—my evil grandfather.
The prince comes for me and saves me from the horrific fate, yet he still has to choose either the First Witch, or me as the wolf girl. Though his passion for me burns hotter than flame, a Dragonian never strays from a decided course. He believes if he picks me, he’ll lose his future mate and the great kingdom she’s meant to bring him. He doesn’t know the witch and the wolf girl are one and the same. If he chooses the witch instead of me—hot, fresh, eager and right in front of him—he’ll lose both.
CHAPTER 1
The Hunters
My name is Freyja, the First Witch. The Dragonian prince Ares Darken and his six warriors know me as the wolf girl. Assisted by the Oracle, Ares located me in my forest home and forced me to leave my pack to find the First Witch for him.
Clueless that I was her, he was convinced the witch was his fated mate.
We’d been on the bumping road until I ditched him just now.
I gave him what he wanted—a witch, but a fake one.
I lied to him—naturally—and told him that the noblewoman in the store was his true mate. While they gazed upon each other as if they had both just discovered the wonders of the universe, I took off.
I broke the yoke the half-blood prince imposed on me, yet freedom didn’t taste as sweet as I thought. I hadn’t expected to be entangled with Ares, but since he was the only man, save for the powerful druid, who could sustain my dea
th touch, I’d been addicted to his scorching caress.
If he’d given me what I wanted, I’d have stayed with him like a junkie to drugs. But he refused to sate me, vowing to stay true to the First Witch he had yet to meet. He lusted after me, but he coveted her more. I had nothing to offer him other than a few nights of pleasure, but she would bring him the greatest kingdom on Earth.
The Oracle had screwed him over big time. Look at me. How could I bring him an empire? I couldn’t even bring him a meal, and I’d constantly demanded he feed me.
I’d vowed to never reveal my true identity to anyone in order to preserve myself, protect myself. My father’s Angel sentinels had been hunting me from the moment I’d been born.
My mother had died to keep me alive. The whole village where I’d been born had perished because of me. I was a Nephilim, an abomination, the first and only hybrid of an advanced human and Angel. I also had Fey essence in me.
But now was no time to dwell on my past. Just as I was about to sprint toward my sour-tasting freedom and put the smoking-hot Dragonian prince behind me, the Angels caught up with me.
In an alley no one dared enter, three Angels closed in on me: one from the sky, two from each end of the alleyway. Their massive black wings heaved behind their shoulders, their long swords flashing white in their hands.
My heart pumped with raw fear.
I assessed my situation.
I had no weapon at my disposal. The damned Dragonians had taken all of my angelblade—the only weapon that could bleed the Angels.
Ares had done me great damage by kidnapping and exposing me. Now while my hunters were hell-bent on murdering me or planning something worse, the prince and his noblewoman were drinking in the horny sight of each other.
I would die today. I wouldn’t even get a chance to tell him my blood was on his hands rather than on the Angel monsters’.
The only small comfort was that I wasn’t completely defenseless.
I was a weapon.
I prayed that the Angels hadn’t learned about my lethal touch.
As soon as the eye-patched Angel swooped toward me with a serpentine smile on his cruel lips, I recognized my handiwork. I’d sunk an angelblade into his left eye at the bottom of the lake ten years ago.
Time sure had flown by.
I’d thought he was dead.
Swiftly, I stripped myself bare, my clothing piling at my feet. On top of the heap were the velvet gloves Merlin made for me.
No one could save me—not the great druid, not Fey, and definitely not the insufferable Dragonian prince.
I could only count on myself now.
Every inch of my bare skin was death. If humans touched me, they would die in agony in two seconds. It took three seconds for a Dragonian. Angels would last for seven long seconds.
My hunters gaped at my nakedness. When I spotted lust in the beautiful monsters’ eyes, I felt hopeful and repulsed.
Come and touch, boys, I beckoned them, swaying my hips. Let’s play.
But the Angels on the ground halted several yards from me. My heart stopped cold. Did they know about the lethalness of my skin?
My panic dissipated when I saw their heated gazes roving over my breasts.
I brushed a nipple to spice things up and get their blood flow to their groins. I would need to be provocative. Violence and sex went hand in hand with their species.
“Hello again, Princess,” the one with the eye-patch called, his good eye a burning dark coal.
I flashed him a syrupy smile and purred, “Hello, gorgeous. I’ve missed you. You look exotic with that patch. Is it homemade?”
“Freyja, right?” he asked. “You’re all grown up.”
His unforgiving smile sent chills down my spine. He’d learned my name. He’d followed me here. He’d watched Ares and me fuck. Why had he waited until now?
“How did you know I’m in Amathus?” I asked in a sweet voice.
Though I’d accumulated angelic data when I’d killed an Archangel and learned more about the alien predators’ origin, I still had no idea how they knew about my existence in the first place. They hadn’t been able to find me after I’d escaped them last time. I speculated that somehow my pack could shield me from their sight or maybe my forest blocked their probe. That protection must have expired when Ares dragged me out of my haven. He’d exposed me long enough for my enemies to track me down.
Eye-patch cocked his head. “Take a guess, Princess.”
I really hated him for calling me that.
“Did you see me from a crystal ball?” I fished. Of course not. But I’d heard that they stored information in crystal devices. They had to have some kind of gadget to track me.
“I’ll be happy to show you,” Eye-patch said. “If you go with us nicely instead of kicking, screaming, and stabbing at me like last time.”
It was good that he hadn’t mentioned touching, which meant I had a fighting chance.
I pressed my back against the cold stone wall, so I could watch the three of them at the same time. I bent a knee, keeping my pose provocatively erotic.
“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” I said. “Why show up now?”
As I tried to get them to talk, I noticed they were in no hurry to approach me. The Angels studied me with mixed menacing interest and lust. Their black wings remained arched and their hands gripped their swords.
I was a half Angel. While earthling weapons couldn’t harm me, the angelblade would give me a fatal wound.
“Where did you hide, Princess, before you tangled up with the barbarians? Your grandfather will be disappointed in your dallying with the inferior races.”
My heart skipped a beat. It was the first time he’d hinted who was behind this hunt—my evil grandfather. The former Dark Lord of All Angels had been the mightiest being in the universe before his heir, High Prince Seth, had shattered his essence.
But the Dark Lord didn’t die. Rumor was he was hiding in the deepest void, seeking to return. It’d been decades, and Prince Seth’s hunting party hadn’t succeeded in flushing him out.
I laughed deceptively. “Then my grandfather should come to discipline me in person.”
It was anyone’s worst nightmare to be on the Dark Lord’s hit list. He had no remorse and no restriction, even when it came to killing his own flesh and blood. He’d once let my father sever his heir’s wings because the High Prince defied his order to harvest the Fey Empress’ magic.
“The High Lord will do more than disciplining,” Eye-patch chuckled, “after we take you to him.”
My breath caught in my throat. My instinct had been right. My grandfather was a notorious power absorber. For eons, he’d gone around the galaxies to harvest great powers before his heir had blasted him off to defend his mate.
Now he wanted mine.
He must have known I was his son’s spawn. He must have sensed the darkness in me and thought it would boost him more than any other power, since we were of the same bloodline.
I tilted my head to regard Eye-patch. “I’d love to visit him, but isn’t he too far away? I don’t have a long life. He should hurry up and come to Earth, if he really wants to see his only granddaughter.”
“The ship is waiting on the other side of the portal,” Eye-patch said. “We can travel in light years. I’m sure you’re also an immortal, like your father. Like us.”
Eye-patch dropped the distance between us. He looked down at me from less than twenty feet in the air.
If I leaped and attacked him by surprise, I could at least grab his foot. I would climb up, touch his hand or his wing, and send him to an agonizing death. Then I would jump over the walls and roofs, land on the other side of the market place, and merge into the crowd.
To guarantee a success, I needed him to be closer and less guarded.
“Since my grandfather sent you to pick me up, shouldn’t you kneel in front of your Princess? Where are your manners?”
The other two Angels blinked, but kept wa
tching me like hawks on their sole prey.
Eye-patch barked a hateful laugh. “Under different circumstances, we would have to, Princess.”
My biological father was no longer a king. He’d been burned by the Fey Empress and then beheaded by his own brother in their final battle.
“King Agro perished, but my grandfather still rules the universe,” I said. That was a joke. The Dark Lord had been hunted. But these goons liked to think their master was still in charge. “He won’t be pleased when he learns how his only granddaughter is treated.”
“You grandfather won’t care how we ship you,” Eye-patch said. “As long as you’re delivered and not completely dead.”
A chill ran up my spine.
“Tell me how you killed two of my former associates, Princess,” Eye-patch’s voice turned icier and crueler, “and I’ll make the whole process less gruesome for you.”
My heart leapt with a small hope. He didn’t know about my death touch.
“I can show you,” I said with a sweeter smile, “with a hot kiss. You know I have a thing for Angels.”
He stared at my mouth warily. “So you have His High Lord’s power?”
What power exactly?
King Agro had been a dud—the shame had driven him to be the worst sadist and made him hate his half-brother, the High Prince, to the bone marrow. If he were alive, knowing the ancient, angelic royal power had skipped a generation but had chosen me, his bastard half-breed, I wondered if he would shriek and scream unceasingly.
Only, I didn’t want this poisonous Angel power that had cursed me.
“I have Earth power from Goddess Rhea,” I bluffed. “Empress Rose used the power to drive your kind out, and I’ll do exactly the same. If your High Prince learns you’re still here, he’ll dwell upon you like an eagle on pigs. He isn’t known to be merciful. So be gone. Now.”
