To Seduce a Witch's Heart

by Nadine Mutas

  “But—he really exists? I’ve only heard of him in stories—you know, we witches tell our children to behave, or else Arawn will come to get them…”

  “Yeah,” Rhun said quietly, “we demons have the same stories.”

  At that, Merle only gaped at him in silent worry.

  “Anyway,” he went on after a minute, “Arawn does have his own set of indefinable magic, and he might be able to break the spell—if you can offer him something of value for his help. I can’t guarantee anything, especially since he’s reclusive and unpredictable. Now, if I could avoid it, I wouldn’t draw Arawn’s attention by any means, let alone ask him for a favor, but seeing that time is running out for Maeve…” His gaze was intent on Merle’s, steady, supportive, unwavering. Without words, his eyes told her he would take on whatever risk lay ahead in order to help her, to right her world, and that he didn’t care what it might cost him.

  Merle’s chest was too tight for her to take in air, so she kissed him, breathing him in instead. Her hand resting on his cheek, she then drew back a little, and the glint in his eyes made her sigh. The way he looked at her, as if she were the only thing of value in his world, it shook her to her bones.

  “You’ve met Arawn before?” she asked before she melted into a puddle of goo on the bed.

  Rhun’s gaze stroked over her features in a visual caress, drinking her in with such open delight. “Our paths have crossed.” His finger traced the curve of her throat, made her shiver. “I’m not one of his, though.”

  “His?”

  “He deals in favors and binds otherworld creatures to him in servitude. His network and resources are vast.” Rhun now played with a lock of her hair, expressing a fascination with it that was almost childlike in its honesty.

  “So,” Merle said, frowning, “it might be dangerous to ask him for a favor? What with him being so unpredictable and powerful?”

  Rhun shrugged, a casual display of lithe muscle underneath his lickable skin. “The way I see it, we’re damned if we do, and damned if we don’t. Even if he turns on us, things can hardly get any worse, can they? If we don’t ask him, we’re screwed anyway.”

  Merle considered it for a moment, unease churning in her stomach. This was risky, and she wasn’t so sure about Rhun’s statement that things couldn’t get any worse. She’d thought she’d hit rock bottom quite a couple of times already, only to find out she could always fall deeper, crash harder. Involving someone like Arawn—a mythical creature of unknown powers and questionable affiliation—might send everything spiraling out of control.

  Then again, Rhun was right. With every passing night, the chances of finding Maeve alive and in a state of being able to recover—Merle didn’t even hope for her being unharmed anymore—grew slimmer. If they tried to find another way of breaking the blocking spell or locating the witch who cast it, it might take too much time.

  Merle’s eyes met Rhun’s. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  Standing in the light, drizzling rain, her arms wrapped tightly around her against the crisp night air, Merle stared at the lake’s black surface in front of her. “Remind me, my darling demon—why are we here again?”

  Rhun smiled at her endearment, and the beauty of it cut through her in bittersweet pleasure. “One does not simply walk into the lair of Arawn,” he said, his voice low and ominous as he played on a quote from the first Lord of the Rings movie. Merle bit her lip at his humor, resisted the urge to kiss him breathless. “The exact location of his hidey hole is only known to his lackeys, and you have to get one of his gatekeepers to take you there.”

  “And by gatekeepers you mean sleeping fish?”

  He chuckled, swatted her butt, and walked over to where the shore’s rocks fell steeply into the dark of the lake. Squatting, he dipped his fingers into the water and started making small waves. Merle half-expected him to say something like “Here, fishy, fishy,” and she barely smothered her snort of laughter. The dark look Rhun shot her over his shoulder made her fall utterly silent, though. An enticing whisper rose in the gloom of the night. Merle rubbed her arms as the hairs on her neck rose in warning.

  “Rhun, what—”

  “Shhh.”

  A hand shot out of the water and grabbed Rhun’s wrist. Merle jumped and shrieked. The surface of the lake shook as the creature tried to pull Rhun into the depths, but he calmly dug in his heels, his thumb stroking circles on the skin of whatever held on to him. After a minute of a silent and eerie tug-o’-war, the force on the other side stopped trying to draw Rhun under, and instead the shape of a head broke the surface of the black water.

  Merle held her breath as a young woman emerged, ethereally beautiful—and stark naked. The wet curls of her dark hair clung to skin the color of moonlight, framing the face of a maiden which would undoubtedly have inspired a whole collection of courtly love songs in the Middle Ages. She’d half-risen out of the lake, her upper body—naked breasts and all—glistening in the scant light, and she still held on to Rhun’s hand, her eyes fixed on his face. When she smiled, Merle felt the sudden and irrational urge to strangle her with her own hair.

  “Rhun,” the water nymph said, all but purring his name.

  “Kalista.” He returned her smile.

  “It’s been a while.” The nymph tilted her head and regarded him with blatant appreciation.

  Merle’s urge to strangle the damn beauty morphed into the violent desire to scratch her eyes out first. And then maybe hack off the hand that still held Rhun’s wrist. She mentally shook herself. What was happening to her? She’d never been that jealous of anyone.

  “You look good these days,” Kalista said, her voice a melodious hum in the dark of the night.

  “Hm. Must be because I’m in love.”

  Merle froze, along with her heart.

  Kalista’s gaze followed Rhun’s to Merle, disbelief written on her face. “With her?”

  Rhun’s low hum of affirmation rolled through Merle, melted the ice that had crept up, filled spaces inside her she hadn’t realized had been empty and aching.

  “And,” Rhun went on, “I’m afraid my witchy sweetheart here will hack off your hand, scratch out your eyes and then strangle you with your own hair if you keep on holding on to me like that. She is rather possessive.” All said with a beatific expression and such gentleness, one might think he was talking about how he’d found salvation.

  At his words, Merle’s pulse had stuttered into high gear, and her face blazed with heat. That damn, sneaky demon. She’d apparently maintained a mental connection to him after she’d lowered her shields, and he’d picked her thoughts from her mind like ripe fruit.

  Kalista gave Merle an assessing once-over, and then released Rhun. “My apologies, witch. I didn’t realize you had a claim on him. You should mark him as yours to avoid misunderstandings.”

  Merle blinked. “Uh, yeah, sure.” She glanced at Rhun, and her heart twisted with longing. If only things were different, she would mark him any which way she could, and flaunt him as hers like a precious jewel. Hell, if she were a cat, she’d possessively rub herself all over him until he wore her scent embedded in his skin.

  “I’d like that, little witch of mine.”

  Merle jumped at Rhun’s mental voice. “You just love taking advantage of that open connection, don’t you?” she thought right at him.

  His chuckle resounded in her mind, stroking her in hot, low places. “You betcha. And, by the way, you may rub yourself all over me at any given time, even if you’re not a cat.”

  “We wish to speak to Arawn,” Rhun said out loud while Merle blushed with scorching heat. “Are you still in his service, Kalista?”

  A shadow fell over the water nymph’s face. “Yes.”

  “Can you take us to him?”

  Her expression turned wary, and her gaze darted from Rhun to Merle and back again. “I will have to ask him for permission.” And that thought clearly didn’t appeal to her. There was even a glint of fear in her eyes.

 
“Please do,” Rhun said, his voice low and reassuring.

  “Wait here,” Kalista told him after a long moment of consideration, and then she disappeared underneath the water without making a sound.

  The night was eerily quiet all of a sudden, as if holding its breath. Merle stared at the lake, vast and black and looming in front of her, and she shivered involuntarily. A warm hand closed around the back of her neck, and then Rhun pulled her against him, enfolding her in his arms. He bent his head and rubbed his cheek over hers, a gesture of such sweetness, it tore at her. One of his hands came to rest above her erratic heartbeat, and he cocooned her with his power.

  Closing her eyes, Merle smiled, relaxing. As mild rain feathered over her skin, the night lost its menace, and she marveled at how one darkness could expel another. Rhun’s aura was still demon, laced with a lethal vibe that had once unsettled her. Now, however, she took the strangest comfort in it. She’d let him closer than anyone ever before, and as he held her with a strength whispering of danger and darkness, all she felt was a peace she’d never known. And wasn’t that madness?

  “No.” Rhun’s deep voice hummed in her head. “It’s the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received.”

  “Rhun…” She brought her hand up to stroke his face. “You’ve got to stop saying stuff like that.”

  “Why?” An unrepentant brush of his powers against her mental senses.

  “You’ll turn me to mush,” she whispered.

  “So?”

  “I don’t look good as mush.”

  His lips curved against her cheek.

  The surface of the water broke and Kalista reappeared. Another nymph followed, this one with hair of luminous gold.

  “He’ll see you,” Kalista said. “Come.”

  Rhun loosened his embrace but took Merle’s hand, leading her toward the rocky lake shore.

  Merle frowned, suspicion unfurling inside. “Um, Rhun?”

  “Yes, mushy witch?”

  That earned him a swat on the arm. “Where are we going?”

  “To see Arawn, of course,” he said, pulling her unerringly closer to the water. “Seriously,” he went on with a dramatic sigh, “I feel like half of the time you’re not even listening to me. I mean, I know my good looks are distracting, but it’s just hurtful if you don’t pay attention to what I say.” He threw her look of heartbroken sadness. “I think it’s time we admitted we have a communication problem, honey.”

  She chose to ignore his quipping and instead glared at him as he stopped at the edge of the shore. “I mean why are you pulling me toward the lake?”

  “Because that’s the way we’re taking to Arawn,” he said, and before she could so much as flinch, he’d grasped her by the waist and hauled her into the water.

  She hit the lake’s surface with a splash, followed by the muted sounds of water closing in around her. The biting cold stopped her heart. Her shocked shriek turned into a gurgle as a thousand icy pinpricks pierced her skin, numbing her muscles. She struggled, flailed, swam upward with panicky strokes, and broke the surface with a gasp, hauling in air.

  “You jerk! Bastard! I’m gonna kill you!” Pedaling in the water, she searched for Rhun, so she could flay the skin off his back.

  But he wasn’t standing on the shore anymore. Merle paused for a second, swimming in place, and then she whirled around and punched the demon who’d swum up behind her right in the face. Her fist connected with his nose with a satisfying crack.

  Rhun glared at her, wiping the blood away while swimming. “That’s twice in one night you broke my nose.”

  She shook her hand against the pain the punch had caused. Hitting someone definitely looked easier in the movies. “You deserved that, you sneaky, two-faced—”

  “Would you have jumped in if I’d asked you to?”

  “Yes,” she said petulantly.

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Okay, no!”

  His grin flashed bright in the night. Winking at her, he threw her a kiss.

  “I hate your guts,” she muttered under her breath.

  “No, you don’t, my little witch.” Rhun’s voice was smooth, alluring, and with just enough smugness to make her narrow her eyes at him, even as a smile bloomed inside her.

  “All right,” he called out to Kalista, who had been watching their interaction with a mix of fascination and confusion. “Let’s go.”

  As Merle was about to ask how this would work, the blond nymph swam toward her, inclined her head—and pulled Merle under. The water rushed in around her before she could voice any protest.

  Darkness, cold, an unyielding grip, drawing her down, down, down with preternatural strength. Instinctively, Merle had started holding her breath, fought the urge to inhale. Her pulse hammered in her ears. The water got colder by the second, biting into her skin, icing her limbs, and she couldn’t breathe, mustn’t breathe, had to hold on. The blond nymph’s grasp around her waist never loosened, even as Merle struggled in beginning panic.

  Just as her head was about to explode, the direction of the pull changed. The nymph dragged her upward now, so fast Merle’s ears rang at the sudden difference in the water pressure. They broke the surface, and Merle sucked in a breath with an undignified wheeze. Air. Gods, she’d never been so glad to use her lungs.

  The blond nymph had let her go when they had surfaced, and now swam idly in a slow circle around Merle, studying her with open interest.

  “You could have given me a warning,” Merle rasped in between shuddering breaths.

  The naiad simply smiled, her face all smooth with the beauty of never-ending youth. Nymphs didn’t grow old—they just dropped dead one day when their time came. Merle had never made up her mind whether that was a boon or a bane.

  At that moment the water splashed wildly a few feet away as Rhun emerged from the depths. Kalista surfaced at a safe distance from him, shooting Merle a cautious glance.

  That’s right. Merle narrowed her eyes at the water nymph. You keep your fins off him, missy.

  Rhun laughed and dragged Merle toward the shore.

  “Stop reading my thoughts,” she hissed at him.

  “And lose such a great source of amusement? I don’t think so.”

  They trudged out of the lake, and Merle stopped short at the difference in their surroundings. Where before rocks and pebbles had framed the lake, set in a wide clearing in the forest, now huge trees loomed almost directly over the water. The shore had a much shallower incline, with sand instead of pebbles, and it morphed into grass the closer it got to the tree line.

  “This is not the same lake,” Merle murmured.

  “Nope,” Rhun said as he stepped onto the small beach, wringing his T-shirt and shaking his hair.

  “Follow the trail until it swallows you,” Kalista called from out on the water.

  Merle frowned. What an odd wording. Shaking her head, she trudged on, cursing at the soaked state of her clothing. “Great, now I’m all wet,” she muttered under her breath, and froze in place when she saw Rhun wiggling his brows. “Not like that!” The wave of heat rolling through her was enough to dispel the cold of her clammy clothes and the chilly night air.

  “I can change that in a minute, you know.”

  “Rhun! This is neither the time nor the place.”

  “Pity,” he murmured, heat in his eyes. “Let me know if you get too cold. I’ll be happy to warm you up again.”

  “Let’s just go before we catch pneumonia.”

  Rhun led the way, his acute demon night vision recognizing a winding path into the forest where Merle only saw shadows and more shadows still. She grabbed his hand so as not to trip, and he squeezed it in reassurance.

  “I’ve got you,” he said in her mind.

  “I know.” Merle’s answer came without thinking, from a place that felt rather than understood.

  “Before we go in,” Rhun said after a moment, “a word of warning. Keep your wits together around Arawn. He can be somewhat…unnerving.” It was
too dark to see his face, but the nervous flicker in Rhun’s energy was palpable.

  Merle almost stopped in her tracks. “The very fact that you find him unnerving makes me a teeny tiny bit more apprehensive about this meeting than I already was.”

  Rhun didn’t reply anything, and they walked in silence for a while, the cold seeping into Merle’s bones. She was about to risk muttering a spell that would singe her clothes in order to warm her clammy limbs, when it happened. The earth gave way underneath their feet, and with a cry of shock, Merle tumbled down along with Rhun, through dirt and roots and darkness.

  Just as Kalista had said, the trail swallowed them.

  Rhun had wrapped himself around Merle, taking the brunt of the fall, so after they’d hit the ground and rolled over a couple of times before coming to a halt, it was him that looked like something a giant mole had chewed up and spit out again.

  “Are you okay?” Merle disentangled herself from him, worry a tight knot in her stomach.

  “Yeah,” Rhun groaned. “Just peachy.”

  Getting to her feet and extending a hand to help Rhun up—which he proudly ignored in favor of struggling upright by himself—Merle threw glances around the hole they’d tumbled into. It was in fact a tunnel, dimly lit by—were those fireflies? She squinted at the tiny, moving sources of light floating in the air, and shook her head in disbelief. Incredible.

  “Don’t linger,” Rhun said low in her ear, pushing her gently forward in the direction the fireflies were taking.

  After a few minutes and several turns at intersections—the lights leading their way—the tunnel opened up into a room. Roots, as massive as tree trunks, steadied the rounded walls of earth. Here and there, the roots curled into smaller swirls of almost artful delicacy, a natural adornment. In the middle of the room lay a heap of furs and cushions—and on top of it, lounging in languorous predatory ease, loomed a giant black wolf, almost twice the size of a normal canine.

  Merle stopped dead, her muscles locked in place, her heart pounding with the rush of fear. “Rhun,” she called out mentally, “please tell me Arawn has ordered that wolf not to eat us.”