Page 21 of The Wolf and the Witch

Greta, a voice growled in her head. She looked up blindly, searching for the source. Her magick reached for it eagerly, expanding the cascade of water surrounding her. She heard a panicked shout, eyes landing on Gabriel’s large form being thrown back by the force of the miniature tsunami she’d conjured.

Gabrielle Manson’s stern voice filled her head, the memory beating back her panic. “Raw magick, actual power, comes from emotion, just like spells pull from intent. Never let your emotions become the source of your power. It will consume you. Do you hear me, sweet child? Don’t envy other elements. Water can be just as destructive as earth and fire.”

Greta screamed then, a sound filled with grief. She released her hold on her magick, crumpling to the forest floor, body trembling with suppressed sobs. She’d never hear her mother’s voice again, or inhale the familiar scents of home.

She screamed again, clawing at the hands reaching for her, until her magick pressed against her skin, recognizing Geralt. He forcefully pulled her into his bare chest, claws nicking her skin. She melted into him, letting out desperate sobs. She didn’t cry the day Lycans slaughtered her family.

It felt as if ten years worth of tears flowed from her while she clung to her mate, burying her face in his neck. The bond snapped into place, like a someone pulled a rubber band around them, securing their souls together. His thoughts flowed into her, his grief echoing her own.

Through their link, she saw a pregnant, smiling she-wolf caressing her rounded belly, dimples flashing at a younger looking Geralt. Mate, an animal growled in her head. It referred to the female in the memory and Greta.

Sniffling, she closed her eyes, trying to block out the voice and memory. She had her own dead to mourn. Her mind didn’t have room for Geralt’s too.

He didn’t speak, simply held her, smoothing his hands up and down her back, kneeling in the mud with her. Water churned the forest floor into a pool of wet dirt, in other words, mud. Greta snorted hysterically.

Geralt pulled back, looking down at her with concern in his emerald eyes. Greta stared into the lush depths, feeling like she’d fallen down a well overgrown with nature’s bounty. With a tear-stained face and puffy eyes, she leaned forward, capturing her mate’s lips.

He groaned against her before pulling back.

“Greta—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. In fact, I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think or feel anything. Can you make that happen, wolf?” Desperation caused the words to stumble out of her mouth in a rush.

Geralt’s eyes searched her face. She felt his hesitation and hunger through their bond. She lunged forward again, crashing her mouth into his, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, nibbling on it, hoping to tempt him into caving in to her demand.

Claws scraped her scalp when he brought a hand to thread through her hair, deepening their kiss. She whimpered against his mouth, nipples hardening beneath her shirt. Feeling ravenous, she shifted in his arms until she straddled his bare thighs, grinding on his hardening cock.

Geralt raised quickly to his knees, leaning forward until her back met the ground. He pulled his mouth away and bared his teeth, eyes focused above her head.

“Get the fuck out of here and let anyone know if I catch them near us, I’ll rip their damn throats out. Understood?” he snarled at who she assumed was Gabriel. Crimson eyes bore into the male beyond her vision.

She heard a grunted, “Yes, Alpha,” before footsteps faded away from them. The uneven footsteps sounded like he limped away, but Geralt claimed her mouth, refocusing her attention on him.

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* Skip next chapter to avoid spice.

Song of choice: Control - Zoe Wees

Building Up

Greta moaned into Geralt’s mouth, tangling her tongue with his, writhing beneath him for greater friction, sloshing mud against her back. His mouth pulled away to trail kisses along her neck and collarbone. Impatient hands pulling down the collar of her shirt.

He snarled, his claws lengthening before he raked them down, shredding her shirt. He purred at her exposed chest, pulling the halves of her shirt off of her, bringing his mouth closer. Garnet eyes shone up at her as he caught the lip of the cup of her bra between inhuman canines. One jerk of his head had him rending her bra right off of her.

She gasped, rolling her hips up, wanting his cock rubbing against her and inside her at the same time. Little pinpricks of electricity raced along her skin from every point of contact. It stung, but caused dampness to coat her panties. Magick became a living, feral thing, spreading out from her, altering the surrounding air. A fog rolled in, obscuring them from prying eyes, her magick infecting the dampness in the air.

Geralt kissed a path done her bare chest to the top of her shorts. He licked into her belly button before giving her shorts the same treatment as her shirt. She laid on the damp earth, feeling feverish and needy for the Lycan slowly divesting her of her clothing.

She laid before him in just a pair of formerly white panties, damp earth staining the material. He crooked a finger under the seam covering her opening, looking her in the eyes.

“Are you sure about this, Greta? There’s no going back after we consummate this. Hell, I’m not sure there’s going back if we don’t, but if you want to wait—” Greta lifted her hips toward his hand, letting the backs brush along her slick folds, moaning at the sensation of his warm skin teasing hers.

He hissed out a breath, rubbing his knuckles along her opening, letting her wetness coat his fingers. Madness beckoned if he didn’t enter her soon. She released pathetic whimpers while gyrating her hips against his hand. Cool air teased her hardened nipples and clammy skin.

She wanted him. Now.

Geralt, please, she thought at him. A strangled noise stuttered out of him. She gave him a wicked grin, pleased to have disarmed the wolf for once.

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