Page 17 of Bewitched
It’s an internal tug of war. I open my mouth, but hesitate.
"10 more minutes!" The officer’s voice startles everyone.
What? How???
"I made a mistake…" I look into his gray eyes, finding my reflection in them. His brow furrows slightly, a crease forming between his eyes as he stares at me. His head tilts, like he is trying to adjust his perspective, as if a different angle might make things clearer. His eyes dart from my eyes to my lips.
"Details, nightshade…"
"You know what that means? Don’t call me that!"
"A plant related to the potato?"
I am going to punch him in the face.
"It is a poisonous plant, asshole."
"See? It fits you perfectly."
My jaw tightens, I feel the heat rising in my chest, each breath sharper. "Yes! You know why? I’ve unleashed chaos—poisoned half the fucking city."
"What?" I see it in his eyes, a flicker of uncertainty, a slight narrowing as he tries to piece together what doesn’t quite fit.
"I spilled love potion into the cauldron."
"That explains their affection."
"I need to be locked up, not you." I hit my spine to the chair and can finally breathe freely.
"It’s not my first time in prison, Neo."
"I can tell…" I look at his exposed chest. He lays his hands on the table, relaxed. Teeth marks. The imprint left by my bite inked into his skin. My heart stutters for a second as I take it in—the lines, the ink, the permanence of it. He marked his skin with something tied to me… my bite on him.What?"No…"
He laughs, teasing—a smirk curling at the edge of his lips, his chuckle laced with affection and pride.
"What do you want, nightshade?" He brings up his arms, elbows leaning on the metal table, his chin propped on them. He loves this. Me needing him. I can’t lift my eyes from his tattoo.
I swallow my words like bitter slime, holding back a storm. Instead, I look at him—confident, inviting, holdingjust enough mystery to keep him intrigued. There’s a playful smirk at the corner of my lips, just enough to suggest I am in control of the moment. I bend closer, giving him a view of my black lace bra. His eyes land smack in the net. I am a fucking Venus flytrap.
"You want me to kill them, don’t you?" Keeping his focus on my breasts, I lift his chin with my finger.
"I said no touching!" The officer’s voice interrupts my act.
I fold my fingers together like in a plea and place my chin on them. "Just the ones that won’t cooperate."
"Time’s up!"
I stand up and Nox follows my movements. With a sophisticated twist of my body, I turn to exit the room. Nox is close to my back, his cock brushing on my ass. He bends, his voice close to my ear. "What do I get in return?"
I pull a lace lingerie piece from my bag and pass it to him. His hand wraps it wholly; a tight fist.
I find myself wrapped in sheets, like a prey caught in spiderweb, lost in thoughts. The air carries the scent of spiced cider. Alcohol crawling into my mind. Shadows stretch longer in the soft candle glow, making even ordinary objects feel slightly mysterious in my room. A horror movie is playing on my phone. A bowl of salty popcorn sprinkled with cherry syrup sits within reach. Hex springs from my lap and runs out of the room. I get a prickling sensation—a subtle awareness that something feels off. My eyes dart to the dark corners, places where shadows stretch longerthan they should. Maybe the feeling is irrational, just a trick of my mind. But still, my heartbeat quickens. I turn slowly, half-expecting to find someone standing there. My pulse thuds in my ears as I hold my breath, waiting. Nothing. Yet the unease lingers, settling into my bones, whispering that I am not as alone as I think.
I rise from my bed; my ebony silk nightdress barely concealing my thighs.
He stands at the window, his silhouette outlined by the soft glow of streetlights. His breath fogs the glass ever so slightly as he leans in. Fingers trail absently along the edge of the frame. His eyes shift, scanning my body. The floor beneath me barely registers as my bare feet walk forward. I open the terrace door and he barges in, uninvited, hauling the cold from the street along. He approaches me quickly, his steps brimming with audacity. No hint of shyness, just a fluid grace in his movements. Unfettered and bold, he commands the space around him.
His arms wrap around me with strength, muscles flexing as he lifts me effortlessly off the ground. I instinctively grip his shoulders for balance, gasping, surprised by the sudden shift. My body leans into his, trusting the hold, feeling the coldness of his embrace. His body feels like ice. He steadies me, adjusting his grip. The press of my thighs wrapped around his waist, locking us together. His hands settle at my sides, securing me in place, fingers pressing gently against my skin.
