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

by Meg Xuemei X

  Blood whirled in my ears at his words. I had no business being intimate with anyone when I needed my markings to remind me of my name each morning. And it wasn’t even my real name. My true name might be lost to me forever.

  If I didn’t stop this affair with Gabriel, trouble would find me sooner than I expected. And when I fell on my back, all broken into pieces, I wouldn’t even know what had hit me.

  This weakness—this need for Gabriel—was going to undo me.

  I wouldn’t allow that.

  “Don’t ever treat me like a stranger or the dirt on the bottom of your boots again,” he continued. “You’re a natural at acting. If I didn’t know better, I would believe you’d never met me.”

  I swallowed. I had let this male get too close to me.

  I thought of tossing him out, but the fire still licked the needy flesh between my thighs, demanding to be sated. Gabriel’s hard length filled me gloriously. But he refused to give me the release I’d die for.

  I tried to wriggle my body to get him to move, but he put more strength into restraining me.

  My face burned in fury.

  I would just have this one last fuck. After I sated the wildfire in me, I would scold him, throw him off the tower, and order him never to climb into my chamber again.

  Just this one last fuck, and I’d be done with him.

  “Fine, I’ll acknowledge you every morning. Now deliver!”

  “Not yet,” he said. “Once you get what you want, you won’t talk. You’ll send me away. I still have some questions.”

  “What do you want to know?” I said sharply. “Make it quick before I lose interest in you.”

  He chuckled. “You won’t. Once a woman has a taste of me, she never walks away.”

  “Where are your women now?” I sneered, struggling to contain my jealousy.

  “I have only one now, and you’re her.”

  “I’m not your woman. Keep that in mind.”

  “Then what are we doing here?”

  “We screw each other. That’s all.”

  “Deny it all you want. There’s something more between us.”

  “Will they come for you—the women you left behind?”

  “You sound jealous.”

  “Keep flattering yourself.”

  “I’ve never had a real relationship with any woman,” he said. “I’ve always been on the move, carrying on one important mission after another as the great captain to the finest spaceship ThunderSong.” When he saw I wasn’t impressed, he added with exasperation, “Anyway, even if I left some women behind, none of them can find me while I’m stuck in the past on this planet.”

  My heart jerked, missing a beat. He had just confirmed what I’d suspected—I’d been shoved into the past, which was why I had failed to find my way back. But time travelling was another memory and mystery veiled from me.

  I needed to study it and come up with a new plan.

  “Here’s what I want from you,” Gabriel said. “I want to see the glyphs on your arm.”

  I maintained a blank mask. “How can you see them?”

  “So it’s true no one else can see your magical runes except me.”

  “I sense no magic in you, Angel,” I added with a tang of contempt.

  “Not the magic you think. I’m an Archangel. I’m as ancient as some stars. I can sense great powers in the universe, especially dark ones.”

  He considered my magic dark and powerful.

  “You had my wings on your skin before you met me,” he said. “How?”

  “They aren’t your wings.”

  “Show me the glyphs, witch,” he ordered. “And I’ll tell you if they’re my wings or not.”

  “Why would I show you?”

  Gabriel delivered a series of hard thrusts in me. I gasped in and writhed against him. Liquid fire licked white hot inside me.

  “Show me your glyphs, and I’ll give you the fuck of the millennium.”

  If he kept going with just a few more hard thrusts, I’d find a release and get rid of him, but the despicable Angel halted again and held me tightly to prevent me from moving along his silky, hard shaft.

  “The choice is yours, Fiammetta.”

  How dare he give me an ultimate!

  The Angel was so sure he had me, believing I was just like one of his whores who couldn’t get enough of him. He was using sex to manipulate me.

  Egomaniacal bastard!

  If I didn’t need him to fight on the battlefield when the leeches came, I would have conjured my ice spear and pierced his whore heart. I would see what color and shape an Angel’s heart was. And I would mark the discovery on my skin.

  Frost flowed out of me, and my darkness coiled around us like vines, snuffing out any light in the room.

  Gabriel whispered in my ear, “No matter who you are and what you do, witch, I don’t fear you.”

  Even Desdemona was cautious of me. At least he respected me. That was why he’d given me time to consider a future date before this asshole Angel had blown everything apart.

  I’d never seen fear, caution, or reverence in his green eyes when he looked at me. Only animalistic heat and fury meant to scorch me.

  Maybe I should have taken the vampire prince to bed and killed the Angel.

  Gabriel’s lips traced from my earlobe to my jaw in seduction, waiting for my answers.

  Despite my anger and contempt toward him, my skin tingled and my sex ached for him.

  “Show me the wings on your arm, baby, just for a second.” His rich, velvet voice was mesmerizing. “And then we’ll have some fun.” He moved excruciatingly slowly in me, teasing me. “This is so good, isn’t it, Fiammetta?”

  “I’m not your baby,” I said. “Your demand is denied, Angel. Get out.”

  He stiffened against me and his hand dropped from my belly, no longer pinning me.

  I was suddenly free. For a second, we were at an impasse. He didn’t move in me, yet didn’t withdraw either. I didn’t glide along his thick, hard length as I wanted to. But I didn’t push him away as my will commanded me to.

  We both wanted to keep fucking, but it was a matter of pride.

  Gabriel drew a sharp breath, and acidic words staggered out through his clenched teeth. “I’m not your whore, Wicked Witch. I belong to a proud race.”

  He yanked out his cock, and my body screamed in fury.

  “I’m done with this animal mating.” He kept spitting fire. “From now on, pleasure yourself or go find someone else to serve you.”

  “That’s none of your concern,” I said coldly, rolling away from him.

  He leaped out of my bed and fumbled in the dark for his attire. I’d extinguished the ice light in the room. He didn’t deserve my light.

  It seemed he had no need of light. In seconds, he was dressed. He stalked toward the open window from which he had come in, not looking back once.

  Like a huge dark owl, he leaped onto the windowsill and jumped, his massive black wings expanding like a midnight dream before he disappeared from my sight.

  The night was dark, cold, coating my skin like grime. I wanted to scream from the top of my lungs at the frustration he caused.

  I bolted up, pulled the blanket around my shoulders, and cried silently.

  I should not give in to dismay. I must have had much worse days, especially the day I had awoken in the jungle and found I had lost everything, or the days when I opened my eyes in the morning and couldn’t muster a shred of hope to keep going.

  I couldn’t remember how I had felt, but I could imagine.

  I had had a hot body to warm my bed for a week. And now that had ended.

  He would never climb the tower to come to me again.

  I would survive, as I always had.

  Tomorrow, I would go to the jungle. I wouldn’t let the vampires stop me. I would never cease searching until I escaped Pandemonium.

  Like all things, even nightmares had to come to an end.

  Now that I knew we were stuck in the p
ast, I knew I shouldn’t look for the where of the portal, but the when.

  My markings beamed on my skin, one layer after another.

  Tiny ice crystals formed on my fingertips, piercing my flesh. I dripped my wicked witch blood and inscribed in the air to remind myself to question the Archangel on his discovery or theory of being trapped in time.

  The glowing words sank onto the empty skin below my elbow like a hot blade burning into me before settling in place.

  I ignored the razor-sharp agony.

  Everyone loved power, but they never knew the cost of having great, dark magic.

  28

  The Angel

  I acted like a male whore offering pleasure in exchange for secrets and information.

  And Fiammetta denied me heartlessly, even with my hard cock inside her.

  Her body was burning for me. She desperately needed a release. I’d intentionally pushed her over the edge. Yet she still had the willpower to turn me down.

  Didn’t they say witches were moths to the flame when it came to carnal pleasure?

  I’d underestimated her. I’d put faith in my glorious sexual prowess—no woman had ever resisted me.

  But who was I kidding? The Wickedest Witch was a savage from an underdeveloped planet. She was nothing like the refined, noble females I was used to associating with.

  Lady Fiammetta was no lady.

  It killed me to pull out of her hot, gorgeous pussy, but I wasn’t her whore.

  She didn’t even bat an eyelid at my grumbling.

  After she told me that my service was no longer required, she demanded I never return to her chambers.

  I jumped from the tall tower and landed in a crouch, feeing unsatisfied, hollow, and bitter.

  I should have fucked her. I wouldn’t get another chance. And now my cock throbbed in pain. The pressure remained.

  Fiammetta’s body was like no other. It was perfect to me in every way. And I’d just given it up. And before I’d stormed off, I had arrogantly, stupidly advised her to find someone else to fuck.

  Would she do that?

  Her body had been on fire when I’d taken off. She would need relief. If she came out of her tower to hunt for a lover, what would I do?

  Black rage filled me. My hand moved to the long sword strapped between my wings.

  I would kill any male she picked.

  I jogged toward the east perimeter of the witch’s territory.

  This post-apocalyptic city was never quiet at night. Monsters bellowed not too far away, beasts from the jungles yowled, and the Furies shrieked. I had a feeling that soon they’d all come to the City of Nine to besiege it.

  I did not fear the nightmarish creatures. Angels used to be the worst nightmare, but now I was a lone Angel.

  My mind wandered to my away team. Had they been sucked into the vortex but sent to a different time? I had to find a way to contact ThunderSong. My crew would never abandon me. But first, I needed to send them a signal to tell them I was in this period.

  How would I even find the coordinates of this savage planet?

  Fire cracked in the distant sky. Some blocks of the city were forever burning. At least the residual fire gave the city some light. Half the city was in ruin. In the uneasy night, everything was shadows within deeper shadows.

  Shadows did not bother me, but the jungle did.

  It entrapped the City of Nine, and its red acid fog was lethal even to Angels.

  Before the vortex had devoured my shuttle, I had had a glimpse of Pandemonium. The rainforest seemed endless, and beyond it was blurry, flowing gray that looked like ocean. According to Kaara, no one had reached the other end of the jungle.

  Every alien here was trapped.

  Fiammetta had been stranded here for three years.

  My anger ebbed and my heart started aching for her.

  No one knew where the Wickedest Witch originated from.

  Kaara refused to reveal further information about Fiammetta, even though she’d briefly told me about the First Seer’s prophecy. She’d claimed that the Seer’s magic bound her tongue.

  Fiammetta remained an enigma to me.

  I got the most from Rocky. He’d been around the block the longest in the Witch Tower. He’d once suspected she was a native of Pandemonium, yet she understood all alien tongues. I recalled she could even speak Fey tongue, yet she didn’t know the language was spoken by Earth Fey.

  Then Rocky speculated that Fiammetta was the only survivor of the first civilization on this planet, yet she didn’t seem to know its history.

  Or she couldn’t remember it.

  Something clicked.

  Lightning pierced through my thick skull.

  I’d eavesdropped on the private conversation between the vampire messenger and her. I’d been puzzled at the nuance of the vampire’s words.

  “You can’t remember your own secrets, or can you?” he had challenged. When the witch had tried to brush him off, he’d threatened her. “Be mine, Lady Fiammetta, and I’ll protect what’s mine. And my secrets will be yours as well.” The vampire had paused to chuckle. “Even though you won’t remember any of them the next day.”

  Fiammetta had beheaded him right after that to prevent the vampire from revealing more, and taken the war upon herself. The witch wasn’t one ruled by emotions. She calculated her every move. She wouldn’t have killed him unless what he’d said had spilled a truth she didn’t want anyone to know. She had gone to extremes to stop anyone from learning it.

  The truth was about her amnesia.

  Every morning when she’d come down from her chamber, she stared at me without any recognition. She looked at everyone with that icy blankness— her perfect mask. She kept everyone at a distance, except Kaara. No one had thought it odd. They feared her and believed she merely refused to acknowledge their insignificant existence. And she cunningly used her Wicked Witch act to keep everyone at bay.

  Every time I’d climbed up to her chamber to fuck her, her body had melted for me, yet her eyes had always flashed with a strange light, as if it was the first time for her.

  She did not remember my touch from the night before. When she’d ridden me, she’d always closed her eyes and only occasionally stolen a glance at me when she’d thought I hadn’t been looking.

  She’d been preventing me from gazing into her eyes to see her secrets while she’d been at her most vulnerable. So whenever we’d finished, she’d urged me to leave. She couldn’t afford to let me spend the night.

  I stared at fire and smoke rising toward the dark sky. The fire would soon be embers of ash before dawn approached.

  Was I right? Could it be real that Fiammetta suffered from amnesia?

  I’d twice sent my Archangel High Sense to probe her, and all I’d gotten was a blank state with static. But I’d thought she was simply good at shielding her mind.

  I replayed all of our nights together frame by frame and focused on what had gone wrong tonight.

  She’d put up with me even when I’d used sex to maneuver her, because she’d been on the verge of orgasm. Her body had only stiffened when I’d stated I wouldn’t tolerate her acting like she’d never seen me before every morning.

  She’d endured me until I’d insisted on seeing the markings on her skin.

  I’d glimpsed her name on her arm when her glyphs had first manifested. Who would etch their own name on their arm? Unless she couldn’t remember her name or she was narcissistic. Fiammetta wasn’t self-absorbed; she was pragmatic.

  It all made sense now.

  I needed to test her without provoking her. Fiammetta would kill whoever learned about her most-guarded secret, believing her own survival depended on it.

  The last thing I wanted was to get into a death match with her.

  A quiet hissing rose from the north side. Someone was poking around the witch’s territory. I didn’t hear a sound from the night guards. Where were they?

  The wind blew unnaturally. I tucked my wings behind my back and dashed t
oward the almost undetectable noise.

  Three vampires stepped over the warded boundary, two guards’ bodies at their feet. I identified one of them as Wally. The former space pirate had been Kaara’s errand boy. I moved my gaze from the wounds on his neck. The vampires had drained both guards.

  The vampires looked surprised at my sudden appearance.

  “Get rid of him,” the tall vampire in the middle ordered.

  Two vampires charged toward me, faster than the dark wind.

  They were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  After being thrown out by Fiammetta with unfulfilled lust, violence seemed to be the perfect conduit to blow off steam.

  I grinned, the angelic rune on my blade radiating faint light in my hand.

  29

  The Witch

  I tossed and turned in bed, cursing the Angel.

  A knock rapped on the door.

  “Who is it?” I snapped.

  “Lady Fiammetta,” Kaara’s voice sounded urgently outside the door. “We’ve got a situation.”

  When didn’t we have a situation?

  I slid off the bed, went to my closet, and selected a cashmere top and a pair of leather pants. They fit well. I had gotten them from raiding a crashed ship three years ago. That had been my first full assault against other clans after I’d taken over the Witch Tower for myself. That raid must have made me feel good because I’d recorded it on my left shoulder. I couldn’t remember the excitement now. I looked at all marked events with detachment.

  My heart had grown colder as the days dragged on.

  I zipped up my boots and straightened, tiny ice crystals forming on my fingertips and climbing over my skin to shield me. I shut my eyes for a second to make sure the heat in my blood had also become ice before I pulled open the door.

  “Kaara,” I said, eyeing the violet-haired women who wore a fighting outfit and carried a sword that was similar to the Angel’s. “What’s wrong?”

  “The vampires breached the ward, Fia,” she said, worried more for me than for herself.

  She had such sincere warmth I hadn’t seen in others. It was like honor was in her blood, like an undying ember burning through the cold night. This planet hadn’t extinguished her bright light. Maybe her warmth and courage helped me keep going. I had no light, no warmth, and no fire, only ice and endless darkness.