Page 62 of Hellish Witch

“You could never be a burden,” I whispered, feeling something burn in my chest. “Not to anyone who matters.”

His lips twitched, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Anyway, slaves don’t have birthdays.” A hard look entered his eyes, almost as if he turned so brittle he might shatter. “But when I first arrived in the Hybrid Kingdom and was staying at the cabin you and Rex shared, you asked my age. I was roughly nineteen, if the other slaves were to be believed, but I knew then it was the start of my new life. I claimed that day as my birthday.” He leaned toward me, giving me his full attention. Eyes unflinching in their directness, some hidden emotion churned in their endless depths. “You came back a few hours later with a giant cake, layered in bright-pink frosting, with poisoned flowers decorating the top.”

The memory brought a blush to my cheeks. “Bloodbores.”

He grinned, a genuine expression I didn’t see often enough on his features. “The same stunning colour as your hair and eyes.”

It was also the flower I used as a base for my most vicious poisons and a few healing salves. Huge planters of them sat under the front windows outside my house. But I hadn’t been the one to plant my favourite flower there.

I’d always assumed the present was from Rex, a brotherly housewarming gift, but now that I thought about it… Rex was more likely to gift me weapons than flowers.

I ducked my head, unable to bear the intensity as I battled the realisation sinking in. “Sorry I tried to poison you on your birthday. Some healer, huh?”

“It was perfect.” He shook his horns. “I set the sugared flowers aside and pressed them in a book,” he whispered.

The words were so quiet, I could have almost imagined them.

I didn’t know what to do with that information.

Was this attraction more than one-sided? I was a succubus though; wouldn’t I have felt his desire before this cursed trip if that were true? Why would he flip between flirting and treating me like a kid? I knew he charmed all women. He was pure seduction, even for an incubus.

My heart beat too fast, frantically trying to pump blood to my brain to fuel my confused thoughts.

“Killian…” I trailed off, unsure what to say.

He cleared his throat, looking almost pained before donning his usual sinful mask. “Anyway, kid, here’s me returning the favour.”

He swiped another rolled stick of haze from somewhere and pressed it between his lips. Leaning over, he lit the end using the birthday candle and drew a deep inhale before blowing out apuff of sweet smoke. A dark stream poured from his lips, leaving behind a sharp smirk on shadowed lips.

I frowned. He didn’t always smoke the numbing drug, but I suspected he’d been using it as a crutch over the years, when things got too heavy.

“Well?” He quirked a brow. “Blow out your candle, sweetness.”

I rolled my eyes, lips twitching. “Yes, sir.”

He jolted as if I’d struck him. Lips tightened around the drug perched between them.

I swallowed, and hurried to blow out the candle.

Everything was so damned messy when it came to Killian.

I met his gaze, the pale wisps of the extinguished candle rising between us. I was hyperaware that we were in a bed, alone, and hunger thrived inside us both.

He was a carnal being, sin and seduction made flesh.

In theory, so was I. Even though I’d never felt all that alluring.

My fangs ached to sink into something, and I darted my tongue out to wet my lower lip.

Killian’s stormy gaze followed the movement, predator quick. I swallowed again, and his eyes dropped to my throat.

I couldn’t help tilting my head, stretching the column of my throat in a silent invitation.

“Princess…,” he breathed, voice as smoky as the drug he’d been inhaling. “I can feel how much you need to feed.”

The words punched into me, slamming into my heart until my chest resounded like a drum with every pulsing beat.

He was right though. Hunger clawed at my insides, phantom aches in my chest letting me know the cake alone wouldn’t satisfy me.

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