Page 50 of My Dark Obsession
Let your flames go.
Strangle the life out of them.
Swallow their soul—
“Why are you sitting with me?” She asked making me raise my brows at her.
“Should I not?”
“I don’t think many are happy that I’m a Dark Witch.” She still hadn’t looked back at me, her purple eyes were looking at others, assessing those around her.
“That doesn’t bother you,” I stated. It would bother most others, but not her, not me. And certainly not her dragon. I knew he knew I was sat there; he couldn’t take his eyes off her for long. Constantly watching her. I knew he had sensed me watching her from the trees on the Dark Mountain. There wasn’t much that dragon missed, especially when it came to the small woman next to me.
If he sensed me there, he knew I was connected to them both, which was the only reason he hadn’t stormed over here and tried to rip my body in half.
I lit the tip of my finger in my blue flame and held it over the candle in the glass jar on the table. Allowing more light to fill our space.
Her silence was refreshing. Two questions and she had gone back to her silent observation; she hadn’t felt the need to ask more. I wanted her to ask more. I wanted her curiosity, and I wanted those purple eyes on me damn it.
I tapped my fingers more insistently along my knee.
Release your flaaaaaames.
I reached into my pocket, lit another smoke, inhaled deeply and held it with my eyes closed. I let the drug smother my brain in cotton candy and reduce the voices. Opening my eyes, I tilted my head in her direction. And there they were, those big deep purple eyes. Her thick black lashes surrounded the deep orbs; her perfectly arched brows were crinkled as she frowned at me. She nibbled at that lower lip; I wanted to bite it. I wanted to draw her blood and taste it.
She shocked a small laugh from me when she muttered, “I can see why your voice is so raspy if you smoke this often.”
When was the last time I had laughed? Had I even laughed before? I wonder how she would react if she knew that my voice was raspy from losing control of my flames and permanently burning my vocal cords
“You don’t care how much I smoke.”
She sighed and blinked those purple eyes at me.
“What are you? A shifter? You don’t seem dickish enough to be a White witch,” she said flatly.
I smirked and blew the smoke from my lungs, “Didn’t your mama ever tell you not to ask what people were?”
“She’s dead.”
I nodded, noting the still flat expression. Of course she was dead. The only living Dark Witch sat next to me, enticing me, making me want things I shouldn’t.
“I’m a Mors Flamma.” I told her, knowing what she would ask next.
“Which is?” She raised her brow and turned more in her seat, giving me her full attention now she was getting information.
“Death’s warrior.”
She leaned towards me, intrigued.
“Death’s warrior? So you know Death?” Something flashed in her eyes, an interest I hadn’t yet seen from her. The spark that burst to life at the mention of Death peaked my own curiosity.
“Death left us all when the portals closed.”
Her frown deepened just as a drunken bear collided with her chair, tipping it back and taking her with it. I moved without thought, grabbed her waist and lifted her to her feet all whilst wrapping my vine around the bears ankle and throwing him across the room with a loud crash.
The mark on my lower back zapped me with electricity just as she arched and gasped in my hands, her eyes flashing to my own before she ripped herself from my arms and fell to the floor whilst yelling.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
