Page 71 of With This Witch
Petra nods and turns to Daisy, “Are we okay?” She asks.
“Absolutely,” Daisy responds.
They hug briefly before Petra stands up and walks toward where Lachlan is standing by the entryway. She doesn’t look at him as she passes, though he sees a small tick up in her lips as she strides past. He reaches out and grazes her bottom, sending sparks of heat up his arm and straight to his dick.
Mine!his inner demon demands.
* * *
They pull up to the cemetery gates a few minutes early. The full moon shining through the spotty clouds creates moving shadows as the light shifts over the headstones and monuments. They step out of the Jeep onto a gravel path, crunching underfoot as they make their way to the closed entrance.
“It doesn’t look like Sloan is here yet,” Petra says, a shiver running down her spine.
“She’ll be here,” Lachlan states, more certain than he feels. A twinge in the back of his mind wonders if this is some kind of setup. As he reconsiders if they should have trusted Sloan so freely when history has shown that they should do the opposite, he hears footsteps approaching on their right.
Emerging from the darkness, moving between headstones, is Sloan. Dressed in all black, she appears as if born of the shadows. With the presence she commands, even among the dead, he considers that she would have been a great addition to the underworld. Her stride is confident and nearly silent. She would be an absolutely terrifying hunter.
Sloan reaches forward, twisting her hand in the air, unlocking the gate. As it swings open with a loud whine, Lachlan looks behind them as they enter, hoping the sound doesn’t alert anyone nearby. They enter the cemetery proper, with the gate whining and clanging shut behind them.
“I could have done that,” Petra says under her breath as they approach Sloan.
Although Petra can’t see it in the darkness, Lachlan smirks, amused at her petulance. He senses a protective shield slide over them. Calling on his shadows he sends a smoky tendril to push against the invisible barrier that moves with them. Solid.
She whispers, “just in case. And you can thank the new grimoire strength later.”
He snorts.This should be fun.
Sloan leads them deeper into the cemetery, passing by headstones of various ages. Some are so covered in centuries-old grime that the names of the dead are no longer legible, while other, newer ones gleam in the moonlight, the granite and marble sparkling like witch lights as they pass by. Lachlan follows behind Petra, careful not to step on any of the graves so they do not upset the tenants. With everything going on, the last thing they need is a haunting because of a misplaced foot.
When Sloan stops, it is in front of a large stone mausoleum with a heavy-looking door set back between two Corinthian columns. Carvings and sculptures of various gods and goddesses adorn the archway overtop. Barely visible above the door, carved into the stone, are the wordsNomen Defendit Nos. Name Protects Us. Sloan approaches the doorway and whispers the protective phrase; the door unlocks and slowly swings open.
Petra looks to Lachlan questioningly, “Think she’s brought us here to bury us with her family?”
Lachlan stifles a snort. “I mean, it’s not a bad plan. The last place anyone would think to look for us is in their crypt.”
Petra and Lachlan pass a glance between them, only mildly confident that they aren’t about to step toward their doom in a creepy mausoleum that belongs to the family vying for Petra’s rightful title. Sloan follows closely behind, and as she steps over the threshold, the door shuts behind her. Witch lights ignite around the room, casting a flickering golden glow and dancing shadows on the walls. Petra shivers, rubbing her arms with her hands.
“You alright?” Lachlan asks.
“Yeah, just the whole being entombed with a chamber of dead people and my nemesis is setting my nerves on end.”
Lachlan places a comforting hand on her back, gently rubbing it up and down her spine, and feels her relax into his touch. She looks up at him and smiles, and his heart clenches.
Sloan clears her throat, drawing their attention.
“So it is real,” she says.
“What is?” Lachlan asks.
“You two,” she responds, pointing a finger between Petra and him. “Grog will look like a fool when he sees he’s caused all this fuss for nothing. It will be glorious.”
Petra looks confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you two are clearly in love. Aside from how you keep looking at each other, I can literally feel it emanating from you both. The mix of light and shadow is ridiculous, and for Grog to have ever doubted this, thinking he could use it to replace the Rose Premier Witch, is beyond me.”
Petra’s hand reaches for Lachlan’s. He interlocks his fingers with hers and squeezes her hand gently three times.
I. Love. You.
