Page 6 of Her Blood Revenge

‘We can’t stay sealed up in my protection spell forever. There comes a point when safety turns into a prison. And if Ashe’s old coven wants her back badly enough, they will never stop trying to get her. Believe me. I know. They’re a vindictive and superior bunch of pricks, our covens. If you’re not like them, you’re the enemy. And they don’t just kill those who turn against their ways. They make an example of us. They were going to slice off my dick and balls before impaling me, arse end, on a spike. Then, they would have left me there until I died. All because I dipped my wick in a willing lass.’

I know that. The earth coven were slicing Pix to ribbons and about to fuck her with a knife before I got to her.

‘The only reason my coven hasn’t come looking for me is because they think I was eaten by spiders,’ he scoffs. ‘I’ll help you protect the castle and anyone you tell me to. And trust me when I say I will stay by your side no matter what. You gave me a home and accepted me for who I am when no one else in the world has or ever would. So let me know if you need anything, Archie.’

‘Thanks, Leo. You’re the best air witch I know.’

‘I’m the only one worth knowing, mate.’

He gives a final look up the stairs as Pix roars again and gets to his feet.

‘Good luck. And remember to duck.’ He taps to the fading black eye she gave him a week ago. ‘I don’t know what you’re feeding her, but she’s got one hell of a right hook.’

He leaves, playing a melodic tune on his new flute.

I follow the screams up to her room and stop in the open doorway.

I hate it. I fucking hate it.

Ashe screams again, and I run ice cold as her distress and terror carry through the air and smash into my heart. I never thought I would care. That the sounds of a blood witch crying out in terror would bring me anything other than joy.

ButIcould scream now, watching her thrash in the sheets tangled around her body. Her arms lash out. Her legs kick, and her back arches as she releases her blood-curdling cries and claws at her throat, desperate to rid herself of the rope she’s dreaming of. She carves away her skin and blood beads as her fingernails pass.

It once brought me endless enjoyment to watch the blood bitches scream and cry as we built our arches from their bones.

To watch them die, one by one, was my light at the end of the tunnel dug straight from hell. A tunnel they put me in.

And none of their deaths brought me so much pleasure as Sinthia’s.

The blood queen’s sister. Pix’s aunt. And my ex-lover.

Until recently, the best day of my life was when she hung from the rope I tied around her neck. When I watched her choke and gurgle. When her eyes bulged and slowly turned red as they protruded from her pretty little face. Her death was long, and she suffered. She actually begged me to end it. I’ve used that image to pleasure myself on more than one occasion.

But now, as I think of Sinthia hanging, I shudder. Every night, Sinthia haunts my dreams. That sweet, sickly giggle. Her infantile complaining and pouting.

Her soft strokes on my body were always so gentle and light. I can’t stand to be touched like that, even now. Same as I can’t stand the smell of liquorice.

She was always eating fucking liquorice.

I loathe how Sinthia fills me up and lurks in every shadow. And I’ve killed the whore twice now.

Pix screams again, so loud I know it must hurt.

Shaw struggles to get a grip on her wrists as Dorian takes her head and attempts to get her to hear him through the nightmare gripping her. Her arms are covered in bruises from where she’s smacked them on the bedframe, andShaw tries to avoid holding her too tight so as not to add more marks.

But she’s a strong little thing now, whatever she is, and is just as likely to hurt us as we are to damage her.

I run my fingers through my hair, trapped between the urge to leave and the urge to slap her the fuck awake.

I’ll take the hatred I see on her face when she looks at us compared to the utter horror etched on her sleeping features right now.

That’s all we seem to get.

Hatred when she’s awake. Terror when she sleeps.

I miss the feisty little earth witch who once stood proudly over her ex and spat our collective cum over his sadistic little face. I miss the girl who stood over her dying coven leader and pissed all over him. I miss the girl who called Shaw a pig-headed piece of shit the first day she met him. I miss the girl who blushed when she gave me her virginity.

Now, all we get is silence and stares.

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