Amira turned her head, severing their locked gazes and extinguishing the vision. Instead of relief, she got a full dose of frustration.
“A dagger I could understand, but a sword?” she said at last, proud of her level tone. “Pistols are much more efficient, aren’t they?” Though truth be told, she knew exactly why the sword.
Pistols, while very efficient didn’t give attacker the satisfaction of touching the pain of his victim. It was one of the reasons no Venlordian carried a gun. Though personally, she would have preferred to be shot with a single bullet and not die writhing in pain as her executioner’s dagger became really personal with her flesh. She almost shuddered as a memory from far away surfaced in her mind.
While burning meant purification of the evil soul, even if Venlordians believed every witch to be evil, chopping off her head meant reversing any spells she cast upon the executioner.
Was he cursed in some way? That would surely explain a lot. She tried to piece the different parts. A sword … a witch … the hatred … and more importantly, the hidden pain; it all led only to one thing…
“I find it rather fitting for beheading.” His lips curved in a hollow smile.
“And yet, mine is still intact.” His glare darkened. Great, what are you trying to do, make him kill you?
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Liar. Her nature was to push people till they seethed with emotions. So strong and so close to the surface, for a brief moment Amira could actually feel them. Pathetic, but it was the only way for her to experience anything. To rob a little from others. With Raven, however, she had no idea where the edge lay. Or how close to lashing out he was. Dangerous. But when did she ever shy away from danger?
Raven didn’t say a word more. He went to tend his horse, spread the blankets, made a fire, and decided to eat the last scraps of bread and cheese he had left. It wasn’t much. He hadn’t expected to be stuck in this forest for the whole day—especially since the nearest village was about a day’s journey from there. But, he had a witch and that’s what really mattered.
Raven looked at her sitting there, and realized she must be hungry by now. He sure was. He gazed at his meager meal, wondering why he was even considering it. One day won’t do her any harm; but then again, even the condemned were entitled to a last meal, were they not?
He couldn't believe he was actually doing this. Was he out of his mind? Yet, he stood up, went to her and cut the rope tying her to the tree, leaving only the one around her wrists.
“Come,” he told her.
She glanced at him from under her lashes. “I don’t consider watching you eat that irresistible.”
“Me neither,” Raven smirked, “so how about you come eat. It’s not poisoned.”
The witch sat quietly for a moment and, to tell the truth, he expected some clever retort, but she simply stood up, walked to the fire and, turning to the side to show her bound hands said, “I guess these are not coming off any time soon.”
She was right. The ropes were staying just the way they were. Raven couldn’t risk untying her. So he did the only thing he could—helped her sit down and stretched out his hand.
She ate silently, giving him enigmatic glances before every bite, and he found himself holding his breath. The image of her eating out of his hands was strangely erotic, and when her lips brushed his fingers, the last air rushed out of his lungs.
It didn’t seem deliberate, or intended to manipulate him in any way, but his body still stood to attention, reacting to every light touch. It was sheer torture to endure. Raven tried to take a deep breath to restore even a semblance of self-control, but the flick of her tongue shattered it completely, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than for the earth to part and swallow him alive. At least he would’ve been spared from the images forming in his mind.
Raven blinked, attempting to clear his vision. Not understanding what was happening around them. Was it some kind of a spell? a sane part of his mind suggested. Or simply a trick of imagination, carried too far? Whatever it was, madness walked side by side with it.
Raven refused to be controlled that way. Especially by a witch. The fact that the bonfire felt like a puny flicker compared to the fire burning inside him was a sign for him to get a grip. No sane man would consider bedding a witch. It was suicidal.
Didn’t matter how vulnerable and peaceful she appeared, sitting quietly not a feet away. It was a blinding and deceptive beauty she exuded. One which could lull you into submission without you being any the wiser.
Raven wanted to believe he was smarter than that. Especially since he needed his head clear in order to help Dacian—his little brother who spent day after day in a dark room reliving the nightmare that had occurred years ago.
Raven couldn’t stomach witnessing his grown brother having less perception of the world than a five year old. But mostly, he couldn’t bear the guilt. Couldn’t even contemplate the remorse and the shame he would feel if Dacian should awaken and find out that instead of helping him, Raven had got caught in the witch’s web. Not if—when, Raven corrected himself. When he awoke. ’Cause no one, not even the gods, was going to stop Raven from bringing his little brother back.
And especially not the creature with the most amazing eyes he had ever seen.
Chapter 5
The morning air was chilly and breezy. Raven opened his eyes to the burned-out fireplace, crumpled blankets, and an empty place beside him. She had escaped, the thought ran through his mind.
He immediately stood up, struggling to comprehend how he had fallen asleep; trying not to consider the possibility of not catching her. He had to. He needed her. His brother needed a chance.
Despite the casualties of witchcraft he constantly encountered, she was the first true witch to cross his path in such a long time he had almost given up hope. And he would be damned if he let this one slip through his grasp. He had to track her down and drag her back—by the hair, if necessary.
It wasn’t.
He spotted her leading Lightning through the shrubs, but instead of rushing to the horse and securing his witch, Raven halted. The image of her silent resignation struck a chord inside him. Something was wrong with this picture, every fiber of his being whispered.
* * *
Amira clenched her fists and swallowed the streak of curses that threatened to escape her mouth. She didn’t know why her magic failed her, but with his angry, midnight gaze focused on her, she had no hope of figuring it out.
All she’d wanted was an hour to run with the wind and sort through the mess in her head. What a colossal mistake had it turned out to be. She might have put him under the spell, but there he was, watching her like a hawk watches his prey.
Something about this man was different, something she couldn’t control or even see, no matter how hard she tried. At least he woke up after she’d jumped down the horse, little good that it did her.
In a few long strides he closed on her, grabbed her arms and clutched them behind her back. For a second taking her into an embrace. She gasped as something inside snapped; was almost afraid to lift her head and meet his eyes, instinctively knowing she would regret it. She did it anyway.
His mouth closed hard on hers. Not coaxing, but demanding her lips to part, to let him in. She did. Couldn’t have stopped even if her life depended upon it. Not when the wave of heat rippled through her body, melting everything away, leaving them the only two beings on the face of earth. And even that was suddenly slipping from under her feet.
He took her mouth swiftly, exploring every inch of it with his tongue. Claiming, not asking; demanding, not requesting. There was nothing soft or gentle about the kiss, and yet it was everything she craved at the moment. It was pure bliss and an absolute torture the way her desire flamed inside, the way it overwhelmed her.
Amira could feel his heart pounding, and the rhythm of it was hypnotizing. All she knew was she needed skin to skin. Needed to lose their clothes. His body to co
ver hers. This was the ravishing she was only too eager to consent to.
With that last thought she froze. This was so wrong, a sane shred of her mind screamed from somewhere deep inside. Wrong, wrong, wrong… the words became louder and louder.
He hated her. Hated. Her. Amira had to remind herself. What was really the difference between this and some random member of the Order trying to force himself on her? Her, she told herself. She did want him. But that was not enough. Lust was not enough.
Just because he didn’t beat her into surrender didn’t actually mean she had a say in this. He took, and she … had never been as desperate as to barter her body for … she didn’t even know for what.
Stop! She wanted to yell, but her voice wouldn’t obey.
Raven!
Raven froze at the sound of his name on her lips, reality crushing down on him. Of what he had done, of what he almost did. He released her instantly as if her touch had burned him. Backed away.
“Shit,” he uttered. Had he actually been that close to taking her? He had lost his mind completely. All he remembered was the overwhelming desire to posses her. Body and soul. The need had been consuming. It still blazed inside him.
If she hadn’t screamed his name, Raven would have stepped over the cliff and fallen down. Straight into the Vortex of Shyau and into the hands of the most dangerous demon in the guise of an angel, waiting to rip him apart. And yet, she didn’t seem to be trying to do anything. Bright eyes, which were riveted on him shone with confusion. Her hands wrapped around herself, as if she was cold. An awkward silence settled between them.
Why was she not trying to reach for him? Exploit his weakness? His desire was obvious. He would be a fool to disregard it. He only hoped that by accepting it, he would become more aware of how to defend himself. No witch he ever heard of had passed over the opportunity to press an advantage. Unless it was a tactical retreat.
Dear gods, but he was giving himself a headache. Sorting through the chaos in his mind probably required more brain cells than he had working right now. If he was being honest with himself, only one part of his was functioning properly at the moment. Way lower down than the one he would’ve preferred.
Raven couldn’t imagine what would have happened if she hadn’t said his name. His … wait a minute, Raven halted, “how do you know my name?”
She closed her eyes for a brief second, and murmured something he couldn’t identify under her breath. Something that strangely resembled a curse. And not a magical one. What was she hiding? he wondered.
“I simply know.”
“You simply…”
“Yes,” she uttered, “sometimes.”
“Sometimes”, Raven repeated to himself. Now why did that make his skin crawl?
“Tell me your name,” he said, and again got a strange pause. He saw something cross over her eyes.
“You know mine,” he prompted. “What can I call you?”
“What difference does a name make when witch is all I am to you?” she countered his question with her own. A question he had no answer to, only the need.
“Surely you have a name.”
“Hundreds,” she said. “They don’t define me, though.”
Fine, this was not getting anywhere in any case. He needed to get going. They already had too many interruptions, and of course, there had to be one more.
Raven grabbed for the sword the instant he heard growling. Shoving the witch behind him, he tightened his grip, preparing for an attack, but the moment the huge silver wolf appeared she stepped forward and walked straight toward the beast.
“Are you deranged, woman? Do you wish yourself killed?”
“So I’m a woman now? And all it took was a kiss from … you?” She shot him a glance.
Raven didn’t appreciate the reminder. But before he could form any intelligent thought, she added, “Sometimes it seems I was born to die, though not this minute.” What was that supposed to mean? “Besides,” she continued, “he won’t harm me.” As if to prove her point she reached for the wolf.
To Raven’s astonishment the beast relaxed his muscles and howled. He even sniffed the air around her and licked her hand.
Raven watched, dazed, as she rived off a hem from her skirt, pulled out a few bristles from the wolf’s mane, and put it on the torn fabric. The beast didn’t even flinch. Then, something strange and unfathomable occurred. A brumous light emerged from her palm and vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“What just happened?” he asked, shaken to the core. It was the most extraordinary thing he had witnessed in his life. Nothing he’d ever heard or seen could compare. It wasn’t a spell, or a potion; she didn’t draw any marks or murmur any incantations. She simply took a wisp of hair. How strong was she?
“I called Shadow’s pack,” she said, still stroking the animal’s fur.
“Rii-iight…” One wolf wasn’t enough, apparently. What was she planning? To feed him to her wolves? “Come, we’re leaving.”
“Shadow was right,” she retorted, “you are a lost soul.”
Fabulous—Raven gritted his teeth, praying for patience. She was talking with a wolf about his soul. Now that was a concept.
Amira sighed. Nothing was going as it was supposed to. Her magic was almost worthless. And not because of the amulet, though it didn’t help either. She had already exposed herself too much. Not to mention the wolf. Normally, she would have been dead three times by now. All things considered, he was taking it better than she would have thought possible. Or maybe she was that valuable to him.
Raven had even stepped in harm’s way, protecting her with his body. Was he even aware of what he had done, or was it simply a reflex on his part? Either way, for that brief second her future looked promising.
You are using too much magic, Shadow, the messenger from the gods, warned her.
And I suppose you coming here helped me, she snapped. How am I to get out of this now? she asked.
Running is still an option, he suggested. Running was always an option. The one she had chosen a few times in her past. Never again. First, by running it was impossible to meet her destiny with dignity. And second, it still caught up with her. Always. Made it ten times worse. In the end, the cycle was bound to start over and she—to find herself in a similar morass she so desperately wanted to avoid.
Even with all the hatred Raven felt toward her, and all the frustration she carried, she didn’t want anyone else. Figuring him out was the key to survival. And it had nothing to do with her unexpected desire, she told herself.
His closed mind didn’t offer much comfort. All she could sense were fragments of his most intense and rampant emotions, except … except moments ago, when he’d been burning with desire so strong, she could still taste the heat. Yet, he had ceased at her behest.
Raven hadn’t forced her. He had reacted as though he’d been disgusted by himself. That much she’d seen clearly. It too gave her hope and a bitter sense of hurt. For the first time in her life, Amira wanted not to feel again.
If she hadn’t, she would never have been caught in a situation where his entire inner world was open to her, vulnerable, and she couldn’t bring herself to violate him. Not to mention that her mind had actually been absent at that moment. Only her emotions had been alive.
Amira sighed again. She was in a deep, deep trouble.
Chapter 6
Raven expected problems with the beast—was prepared to fight if necessary—but to his amazement the wolf turned around and left them.
“You do understand you had more chances with him by your side,” Raven pointed out, knowing he had to dig to the bottom of her strange behavior.
She stood still for a moment, and then simply shrugged. “I was afraid you would harm him. He’s just a pup.” But looking at her eyes he saw something along the lines of: I could still call him, if you’d like. What kind of game was she playing? Raven couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing a crucial part to this puzzle.
“A pup
?” he snorted. It was the biggest damned wolf he'd ever seen. “Do you know what I could do to you for trying to escape?”
She didn’t answer him, but the way her hands clenched and her jaw set, he knew she was bracing herself for the worst, which succeeded in shaming him. Tears wouldn’t have done it. But her silent courage…
Raven cursed.
So instead of tying her to the horse and letting her run, he tied her hands and lifted her to mount the horse in front of him. A huge mistake, Raven realized after a few moments of riding.
Holding her so close, breathing only the fragrance of her hair brought back the memories of their kiss. Something he wished to the gods he could forget. He still couldn’t believe he’d kissed her. And apparently his stupidity had no limits, because he wanted to feel the sweet taste of her lips again.
Honey, he thought, she tasted like honey. But with a certain bite to it.
Oh dear gods, help me, he uttered under his breath. The irony of it didn’t elude him. Being a person who rarely prayed, he sure had asked for a lot of divine help lately. Only who wouldn’t have? Especially with such beauty nestled against his chest. His whole body was only too aware of her every delicious curve.
Raven urged his horse harder. He had to reach his home fast before the last shreds of his strength of will vanished and he did something he would regret for the rest of his life. Being a mindless slave to a witch was not on his agenda.
Just a day more, just a…
An eternity more.
A full aeon seemed to pass before he spotted a village. At least they had made it through the forests and hills. But there were still many miles to go. He was hungry. His horse was tired. Not to mention he couldn’t wait for the moment to free himself from the honeyed embrace of hers.
He circled the place, careful not to alert its residents to their presence, and halted after noticing a solitary roadhouse. Not perfect, but the best thing under the circumstances. Raven was an infrequent guest in this village, yet some people knew him. And it wasn’t in his best interest to be recognized with a witch in his hands. So he jumped off his horse and after pulling her down, loosened the ties.
Till Death And Beyond (Witch World) Page 4
