Wicked Witch: A Post-Apocalyptic Paranormal Romance (The Wickedest Witch Book 1)

by Meg Xuemei X

  Females preferred to snuggle up to their sexual partners after good, dirty, sweaty sex. I would spoon her for a minute, and then I’d get another round out of her.

  I would fuck her out of my system. If she thought it was too much for her, she’d just have to remove her spell.

  I settled down beside her. Before I swung an arm over her slender waist, she turned to regard me.

  “Why are you still here?” she asked.

  “I just got here.”

  “You got here a while ago and you’ve served me well. You may go now.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. I stared at her, dumbfounded.

  “Leave the way you arrived,” she said. “I don’t want anyone to see you coming out of my chamber.”

  “It’s easier to climb up than go down!”

  “Why don’t you jump then? Your massive bat wings will slow your fall.”

  “They aren’t bat wings!” I said. “And I can barely spread them. You must have a short-term memory if you don’t recall my injury.” Her eyes flashed darkly at my words, but I kept on. “My angelic wings haven’t recovered from yesterday’s crash. There’s something wrong with this damned planet that’s preventing me from regenerating!”

  “That’s your problem,” she said, her voice sharp and cruel. “I didn’t ask you to warm my bed and never will. Leave while I’m still in a fine mood, or I’ll toss you out of my tower.”

  I clenched my teeth. “You can try.”

  I slung myself off the bed, though not because of her threat.

  I wouldn’t mind letting her see how I would brush off her dark magic when I was prepared. I leaped away from her because suddenly I couldn’t stand the sight of her.

  The witch pulled the blanket up to conceal her nudity and turned away from me. The cover outlined her curvy, enticing form.

  My cock was hard again. This time I was quite disgusted with it.

  I decided that when I returned to my sleeping quarters I would pour a pot of cold water on it as a self-punishment, if I could find water.

  I hadn’t wanted any commitment with any woman, but I wasn’t heartless either. I’d always made a good excuse to send them home after sex.

  This coldhearted bitch didn’t even soften the blow.

  But still my cock yearned for her.

  Damn the Wickedest Witch to hell!

  I picked up my uniform and shrugged it on.

  My crew would laugh if they ever knew their great captain and the decorated hero had been used like a male whore and then dismissed like trash. Even I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of my fate. But no one would know about this. I would conceal this misfortune forever.

  “Don’t expect me to climb up your tower again just to please you,” I huffed, looking at the witch in bed.

  My cock jerked, wanting to go another round with her. I flicked a finger at it, and pain vibrated back.

  Fiammetta twisted her head to glance in my direction. “Shouldn’t you be gone by now, creature?” she asked in displeasure.

  Darkness blacker than midnight twirled around her, hissing at me.

  I did not fear her, but I didn’t want to see her for another second either, despite my raging physical need.

  I pulled open the curtain fully and leaped onto the windowsill.

  Let the wind come in and freeze the witch’s ass.

  As I looked over my shoulder for one last glance, Fiammetta shivered under the blanket. My heart softened a notch.

  I jumped, my wounded wings spreading wide.

  The pain was great from the injured ridge, but I ignored it. My male pride had suffered more than enough bruises tonight.

  I landed in a crouch and slowly, agonizingly, furled my wings to my shoulders.

  My fist punched the ground as I cursed the Wickedest Witch.

  I would never fuck her again.

  I was done with her. Even if she was the only female left in the whole universe, I wouldn’t lift a finger to touch her.

  Screw the witch!

  19

  The Witch

  I woke up in the Witch Tower.

  It was another day, just like yesterday. But somehow it didn’t feel like yesterday, even though I had no memory of it.

  My markings told me I’d had wild, hot sex with a winged being who called himself Archangel Gabriel last night. Why had my markings recorded that? Usually they only scribed facts. But wild and hot could be naked truth. Only this time my markings seemed to want me to feel.

  But I couldn’t recall a single detail of the wild sex. I didn’t feel liberated by it last night but felt a full assault of emptiness, fear, rage, and the need to get my revenge on whoever had put me through this.

  A male scent lingered on my pillow—cologne, sandalwood, and sky. I inhaled again, hoping the Angel’s scent would trigger a memory.

  There was nothing but bleakness.

  I sat up on the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands.

  A moment later, I was more collected.

  I walked over to the glassless window. The curtain was open, and the morning’s chill wafted in. Cold didn’t bother me. I was ice.

  My markings said the Angel had come to me through the window.

  He had left the curtains open when he had jumped down. I looked down and inhaled a sharp breath. It was at least twelve floors. Had I forced him to jump from this height?

  I staggered back at my cruelty. But a firm voice in my head immediately reminded me I was supposed to be heartless as the Wickedest Witch in the universe.

  I swallowed hard. What was I? What had I become?

  I looked over the city sprawling beneath me. Some distant buildings were on fire under the overcast sky. Did I stand here every morning and see the same view over and over?

  My gaze fell upon a faraway dark tower facing mine.

  Through the magical inscriptions on my ankle, I learned that the vampire Dark Prince dwelled there. He craved the wicked magic in my blood. He wanted me to be his bride. He wanted to turn me into a vampire queen.

  I’d been stalling him to buy myself time, but his patience was running thin.

  I rubbed my temples. I couldn’t take him down if it came to a battle. He was the Dark Prince, powerful beyond measure.

  I needed to hurry up and find the portal.

  My mind drifted back to the Angel I had fucked last night.

  What did he look like?

  I hoped I could remember something—even a glimpse of his face, a touch, or a fleeting feeling—but there was only the echoing blankness.

  My recording said I’d recognize him by his black wings.

  I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  A violet-haired woman waited on the red marble stairs. She was probably a couple of years older than me. Her warmth was like spring. And I envied her amber skin.

  “Lady Fiammetta.” She greeted me with a sincere smile in her dark violet eyes.

  As soon as she said my name, I felt I would get through the day, just like I had survived every day.

  Kaara Nightshades was her name. I could trust only her.

  I didn’t return her smile, but eyed her fighting gear.

  Kaara approached me with a glass of water and a spare cup in her hand. She poured a small portion of water into the empty cup, drank from the cup, and handed me the glass of water.

  My throat was parched. I drained the water but did not thank her.

  I had to act like the Wickedest Witch.

  “Brief me, Kaara,” I said.

  “We won’t go scavenging unless a ship falls. Today is training day.”

  I had no idea where or how my guards usually trained, but Kaara handled it. All I needed was to keep my wicked and icy demeanor and distance myself from everyone.

  I should go to the jungle to seek the portal. However, I didn’t feel the urgent call. I might just sit around and give myself a day off.

  I felt lazy. Was it something to do with the sex I had last night?

  I inclined my head
, gesturing for her to escort me.

  On the way down, everyone snapped to attention at my approach and dropped their gazes to the ground. My subjects were of mixed species and they feared me.

  Had I ever tortured any of them? Had I killed some of them to make them terrified of me? But if I hadn’t documented it, then it wasn’t essential.

  I glided along and carried myself like a regal queen. I found it effortless to play that role, as if I were born to rule.

  As soon as I entered the hall, the air crackled with potent electricity.

  A flash of unseen lightning slammed into me, rendering me drunk with wild desire.

  I halted, but kept my blank mask in place. Was it always like this? Why hadn’t my markings warned me?

  I traced the electric source and found a large male with black wings in the center of the room. He was masculine and easy on the eye. An inked tattoo adorned his temple. The runes went all the way down to his neck and disappeared under his long trench coat.

  The runes and ancient language spoke of his loss and proud history.

  This winged being was a pure-blooded warrior.

  He met my gaze, his stare so intense and smoldering my heart fluttered in my chest. Liquid heat pooled between my thighs and I parted my lips. I hadn’t expected that reaction.

  My face hardened and I spotted a cold smile tugging at the corner of his eyes. They were full of heat and spite for me at once. What had I done to him?

  I didn’t even recognize him. The only way I’d managed to identify him as the man I had allowed into my bed was because of his wings.

  Had he been any good? My body had felt differently this morning, but I couldn’t be certain if that was from our coupling.

  I tore my gaze from him and surveyed the room before I strode toward my throne. His forceful, intimate gaze followed me like an electric whip. Heat coursed in me, and even my ice magic couldn’t cool it.

  It seemed my body hadn’t forgotten him. Its sexual interest in the winged male hadn’t faded.

  His name was Gabriel.

  Unlike others, he didn’t appear to be afraid of me. He folded his muscled arms across his broad chest in defiance, as if bracing for an assault from me.

  I couldn’t be that bad. I wouldn’t attack anyone without a sound reason.

  Reason? What was I thinking? I was the Wickedest Witch.

  Had I frozen his balls with my ice magic last night? I must have done something to him for him to look so pissed. My markings hadn’t recorded anything of the sort, so it probably didn’t matter.

  I didn’t care for his foul mood, even though my curiosity was piqued.

  Before I settled on my throne, I sent him a warning look that said, Make no mistake, creature! Challenge me or inconvenience me, and you’ll be sorry. I don’t particularly care how handsome you are or if you performed well last night.

  He sneered at me, but the scorching heat in his striking green eyes never lessened, and it burned the path before me, nearly bruising me with its demanding caress.

  I pretended I wasn’t aware of the tension.

  I folded my legs and sat still as liquid fire slithered up between my thighs, licking my tender, aching flesh.

  My need for the male grew white hot.

  Kaara darted her gaze between Gabriel and me, as if she knew something I didn’t. And I wasn’t pleased.

  “Kaara!” I snapped. “What’s the training plan?”

  I fought not to look in Gabriel’s direction as his gaze joined the liquid fire roving over my every inch, caressing me without a touch.

  20

  The Angel

  I had vowed to never touch her again, but as soon as she walked into the hall, my cock thickened. This time, Fiammetta brought her plain self, no icy frost forming in her fingers and no darkness rolling behind her.

  She was no less glamorous.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes off her.

  The others in the room wanted to gaze upon her as well, but they were too scared to look at the icy sun for fear of burning. She must have terrorized them. I knew from personal experience that if I weren’t a powerful Archangel, she’d have killed me off several times. Her ice magic and darkness had incited pure agony within me. I could only imagine what kind of tormenting effect it had on a lesser being.

  The Wickedest Witch had neither sympathy nor conscience. I’d never met any female who had threatened to toss me off a twelve-story tower right after I’d given her memorable orgasms.

  While Fiammetta listened to her subjects’ reports attentively, my cock grew harder for her. I suspected that as long as I was around her, I would always be turned on like a beacon.

  I didn’t even like her.

  But her presence punched my soul. Her touch, her voice, her scent, and the very thought of her aroused me.

  Other than the icy glance she’d trained on me when she’d first entered the hall, she treated me no differently than any others. I wanted to lunge at her, yank her from her fake throne, and toss it out of the window, but I remained where I was and clenched my fists.

  There would be a time and place to get revenge, but it wasn’t now.

  When the tedious briefing was finally over, Fiammetta declared she would oversee the training. Kaara’s face morphed into an expression of astonishment, as did everyone else’s. The room teemed with nerves, but I wasn’t affected by it.

  After breakfast, everyone, except the patrol team, gathered at the clearing surrounded by broken black trees.

  Everyone carried their own weapons, and Boar dropped spare ones on the ground.

  This was the most ill-equipped training field I’d ever seen.

  The guards picked their partners for sparring. Some of them preferred their claws instead of blades. Two males of different species displayed their thick scales. I flashed them a smile. My skin was harder than their scales and swords.

  Only Kaara and I were in possession of weapons that could harm me.

  Kaara was no match for me. She wouldn’t be able to keep up with me even after an eon on the battlefield, and the mortal’s life was like a drop in the ocean.

  No one requested to spar with me. In fact, they all tried to avoid me. The cowards didn’t dare make eye contact with me.

  Kaara stepped toward me, carrying two half-moon daggers instead of her angelblade. “I’ve never seen anyone fight as well as you, Gabriel,” she said. “Spar with me?”

  She knew clearly I could end her with one blow, but she didn’t seem threatened by me. She was a fine swordswoman, but not at my level.

  “Use your angelblade.”

  “No,” she said. “I’m not your enemy.”

  “Suit yourself,” I said and sheathed my blade behind my back. My fucking wings still hurt like a bitch.

  She eyed Rocky, and her second-in-command rushed to the collection of weapons, picking the smallest, bluntest sharpener and handing it to me.

  I shook my head. “My bare hands against your daggers. Ladies first.”

  Kaara charged and I ducked, showing her my evasive moves.

  When she had an opening, I lunged in, but halted before I slammed into her chest or punched her in the head. I liked her. She’d been straight with me and showed me courtesy right from the beginning. She was a thousand times nicer than the witch.

  I had no intention of undermining the girl. But if I were parrying with Fiammetta, the witch would suffer my full wrath and angelic power.

  “Do all Angels fight like you do?” Kaara asked, appreciation in her eyes.

  Even though she was at a disadvantage, she anticipated my every move, which was rare. I also noticed she could sense everyone’s mood.

  “We’re the conquerors of the universe,” I said. “And I am one of the best among my kind. My High Prince could only beat me when he cheated with his black lightning.”

  My pace slowed at the thought of the High Prince. ThunderSong should have informed Seth of my being missing by now. I knew he would come for me. But even he, with his Sky Powe
r, couldn’t find me here, unless he used the Forbidden Glory to tear the fabric of time apart. And he’d vowed never to do that again. The consequences and ripple effects were devastating.

  If my crew disobeyed my orders in their desperation to find me, they would land on Pandemonium in a different time period. They would see a totally different landscape, and then they’d be trapped forever.

  And all of us, in the past, present, and future, would blow up when the planet could no longer sustain the meteor hits.

  I’d learned the truth of this planet in two short days.

  I had two options: the first was fixing my shuttle, returning to the vortex, and taking a chance with it. If I failed at the first choice, then my only hope would lie with Fiammetta.

  Kaara had said the Wickedest Witch was the only one who could find the portal out of this planet and that she’d need my help. I wouldn’t have believed the violet-haired girl if the First Seer of the Death Valley hadn’t backed her up.

  No matter how much I resented Fiammetta, I didn’t want to piss her off.

  Kaara found an opening while I was distracted with my thoughts. She swung her daggers, one at my leg and the other at my waist. I leaped high, my wings spreading, and landed behind her. I couldn’t fly now, but my wings weren’t completely useless.

  Kaara wheeled around to face me. “How are your wings?”

  “Healing slowly,” I said. “This fucking planet is hindering my recovery.”

  Kaara gave me a weird look, but I wasn’t paying too much attention to her. I felt Fiammetta’s gaze boring into me.

  She stood beside a broken tree.

  Ignoring the sharp pain, I spread my wings to their full expanse for her benefit before I slowly tucked them back. My magnificent wings were my best weapon in seduction.

  Fiammetta flicked her gray eyes away from me. A dry breeze sent her perfume toward me and I inhaled the sultry scent. I wanted to bury my face in her lustrous, glossy hair and take her scent into my blood.

  Everyone, except Kaara and me, parried fiercely at their mistress’ look of assessment. Fiammetta surveyed the area and the parrying pairs with her usual iciness, but excluded me.

  “Great Lady Fiammetta,” I called. “Nice of you to watch our training. Care to show us some moves?”