Page 11 of The Wolf and the Witch

“Help me with what, exactly? I’m doing just fine out here on my own.” Her eyes shifted away from his.

He fought a smirk. “You’re doing just fine, witch,” he said sarcastically. His voice took on a serious note. “But why settle for fine when you can have much better?”

“Better how?” Doubt and mistrust flashed across her face.

He took a cautious step further. When the ground didn’t cave beneath his foot, he kept walking until he stood with inches of space between his naked body and Greta’s. She eyed him warily, jaw clenched. He ignored all of that. He knelt down before his mate, gazing up at her with an earnest expression on his face. Ignoring a blessing from Selene wasn’t an option to him. He needed her and he needed his young back home.

“I offer you the protection of my body and my pack. In exchange, I need your help to save my daughter.” He brought his hands up hesitantly to grasp her small ones between his. Slack jawed, she let him grab her limp hand. He’d unarmed her.

“Please. Whatever price, I’ll pay it,” he promised. He watched the rise and fall of her small chest. Hope was an infernal beast, twisting and snarling in his chest. Her face gave little away, except for surprise. If he had to wait an eternity on his knees, he would. Several moments passed in silence, hard wood pressing into his knees and Greta’s eyes constantly shifting from him to the barren cabin. The bond provided little insight, hinting at the abundance of emotions assaulting her.

Finally, after what felt like hours but were mere minutes, she gave him a slow nod, accepting his offer of protection for magical aid. A grin stretched his face wide, canines pressing against his bottom lip. Now, they just had to make a plan to bring Abbigail home.

Out of the Woods

Greta couldn’t believe what she’d agreed to. She couldn’t believe the desperation that gripped and compelled her to accept the Lycan’s offer. He agreed to do a perimeter check before they settled in for the night. She learned he was the Alpha of the Blood Moon pack back in Ohio. His packmate waited for them in Lake Placid at an inn.

Shaking her head in befuddlement, she glanced around the room, trying to decide what she should leave behind. She liked the pelts and found a perverse pleasure hanging them above her. She doubted the Lycan felt the same and made a note to ask his name. It would be a long journey if she kept calling him “the Lycan” in her head.

Deciding the grimoire was most important, she approached the counter she’d discovered it in. Pulling the drawer out, the overstuffed pages of a former witch’s grimoire greeted her. Aged brown paper complained when she took it out of the drawer. The familiar smell of old paper and ink teased her nose. Grinning, she turned back to her worktable but came to a standstill, taking in the naked form of her Lycan standing in the doorway, several dead rabbits held in his hand by the tail.

Her body tingled, his nakedness tempting her on a visceral level. Averting her eyes, she resumed her path to the worktable.

“Glad you’re putting yourself to work,” she remarked, hoping he couldn’t detect the scent of her arousal blooming. She’d never found the Lycans back at the palace attractive and couldn’t discern why the one to her right affected her.

“I’d gladly do all kinds of work for you, witch,” he replied in a sultry voice. She fought a shiver, unseeing the vials standing on her worktable.

“Do you need a bath?” she asked hesitantly, hoping he’d refuse. Her body couldn’t take more temptation. The floors creaked and groaned with each step he took toward her, but she kept her eyes trained on the grimoire.

“Are you offering to wash my back?” he whispered. Goosebumps abraded her skin, and the rough material of her gown brushed against hardened nipples. No, she scolded her body. “You’ll have to wash your own back. Just don’t have the whole place smelling like dog,” she snapped, hoping to cover up her reaction to his suggestion. Removing her hand from the grimoire, she looked at the fireplace, an idea sparking that would provide distance between her and her new protector.

“I’ll go gather some firewood. It gets a little chilly at night.” Turning, she nearly collided with his broad chest, bringing a deeper flush to her face. His hands landed on her shoulders, steadying her. Warmth from his fingers seeped through the thin material. Emerald eyes peered into hers, searching for something unnamed. After a moment, he removed his hand, nodding to himself.

“I’ll fetch the firewood, you skin the rabbits.” He placed his bounty near an empty space beside her potions. Her eyes wandered over his muscled frame, appreciating the curve of his taut backside. Forcing herself to step backward, she grabbed another athame, determined to focus on the task at hand and not the naked Lycan in her sanctuary.

Hot breath brushed her nape. “I won’t be long,” he whispered against her skin before retreating. She’d barely had a moment to respond before the door signaled his absence. Gritting her teeth, she focused on the carcasses spread out in her work area. She lost herself in the task, barely acknowledging the mess spreading across the varnished wood and staining her hands and forearms.

The door opened, letting in a draft, signaling Geralt’s return. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him gracefully stride to the fireplace, the firewood chopped into neat, even pieces. She frowned, wondering where he’d found an axe. The last rabbit rested in her hands, half of the fur hanging loosely from its slight frame. Geralt moved around the cabin as if he’d been there before and knew where everything was. Irritation flared at his blatant arrogance, but she couldn’t find the words for a reprimand. Feeling bereft, she watched the flex of his thighs, contraction of his ass, and listened to his bare feet slap against the wooden floor.

She pondered if Hecate placed the Lycan in her newfound sanctuary as a test. Her heart raced with anticipation, fingers thrummed with excited and she couldn’t keep her eyes from following the movements of the wolf.

“What’s your name?” she blurted, unable to take the silence anymore. Butterflies took flight in her stomach, waiting for his response. Back turned to her, and squatting to his knees, he replied, “Geralt.” His muscled back flexed with each movement, body moving with precision, placing each piece of wood carefully in the fireplace.

Saliva collected in her mouth and she tore her gaze away. She was experiencing a dry spell, she told herself. Pleasure was hard to find in a place designed for labor and harsh working conditions. She constantly feared assault from the Lycans prowling around her. The few dalliances she had had been brief and dissatisfying.

She returned her focus to her task, slicing upward, watching the skin give way under the sharp point of the knife. She hardly noticed the blood seeping around the cut. Her mind wandered to what she could craft from the fur or spells to use the bones in.

Into the Fire

Geralt hid his smile, sensing the witch’s fleeting glances on his naked form. He kept his back to her, drawing out the task of placing firewood in the fireplace, letting her look her fill. Claim her, Ryker urged. Geralt frowned, pushing the beast’s suggestion aside.

Angel rested in Selene’s embrace for several years, and the idea of claiming another mate never occurred to him. Evelyn provided brief moments of pleasure when his body needed release, but he never considered making her his mate. Uncertainty plagued him. He recalled his team’s stance on seeking a witch for help. He doubted they’d be open to her taking on the position of Luna in his pack.

“Almost done there, wolf?” Greta asked, breaking his reverie. He let out a small chuckle at her remark, knowing she heard him give her his name. Rising slowly, he turned to her, letting his gaze peruse her form slowly, heat seeping into his eyes. Flinching, she looked away from him, gesturing at her handiwork.

“Get the fire lit and we can eat.” She strode toward the counters pressed against the left side of the cabin, where he found her earlier pulling out the leather-bound book. He gave it a critical look.

“Not searching for poisons, are you?” He asked.

---