Page 193 of A Weave of Lies
And that was how Semras became the apprentice of Warwitch Leyevna—not with an official offer, but in a quiet statement. Days later, she realized Estevan had spoken to his mother about it on her behalf. He had remembered the conversation they’d had around the campfire on the way to Castereina.
Semras furrowed her brow. She really couldn’t remember anything he’d sworn to her and hadn’t yet accomplished.
“Which promise are you speaking of?” she asked.
“You do not remember?” Estevan dropped his hands to her waist. “A girl with your hair … a boy with your eyes …” He slidthem over her backside and then grabbed her hips and lifted her onto the table, sending pots and ingredients rolling.
Semras yelped, then giggled when he hitched her skirts up to caress the skin of her thighs. He moved them languidly, up, and up, and—
“Estevan!” she gasped. “You rake!”
“I beg your pardon; I amyourrake.”
She huffed at him with a fond smile. Throwing her arms around his neck, she drew him closer. “You clearly have too much time on your hands.”
His smile turned into a lascivious grin. “Good thing I have ideas on how to occupy them …”
Estevan kissed her neck once, twice, and then again and again with increasing hunger. Under his relentless amorous attention, Semras sighed contentedly, her project almost completely forgotten on the table behind her.
Almost.
“Estevan …” she breathed. “The alembic …”
He hummed questioningly, still peppering her skin with marks of affection.
“The fire, you insatiable man!” Semras pushed him away, laughing. “Don’t let it burn down our home!”
Her Wyrdtwined groaned but still glanced over her shoulder at the apparatus. “Oh, very well.” With a heavy sigh, he let go of her and wove the fire out beneath the alembic. “How about now?”
Semras looked over her shoulder at the partly distilled elderberry extract and then sighed. That batch was lost, but she wasn’t mad. Estevan would make it up to her.
He promised her he would once and had since then lavished her with adoration, gifts, and any acts of service he could think of. He even surprised her by learning how to make tea just the way she liked it, simply by observing her attentively. Now, hebrought her cups of tea when she was too concentrated on her work.
After leaving the Inquisition, a weight had lifted off Estevan’s shoulders. Now that he hid no more secrets from the world, he became more relaxed. He told her once, after an evening spent cuddling around a campfire outside, that he had spent most of his life being in charge; now, he rather quite enjoyed surrendering control to someone else for once.
Or twice, or as many times as she wanted, he’d added with a lascivious smirk.
Semras shook her head at the fond memory of love made under the starry night sky. “Much better. So … where were we?” With a grin, she tugged his collar loose and started undoing the buttons of his shirt. “I think you mentioned a promise to fulfill? Children, hm?”
“As many as you wish.” Estevan captured her lips in a long, languorous kiss.
Humming appreciatively, Semras slid her hands onto the hard planes of his bare chest, then rested them over his heart. A nervous knot began to form in her stomach. “You feel ready?” she asked quietly.
He kissed her forehead. “Whenever you are.”
“What if it’s never? It’s one thing to talk about it; it’s another to actually … to decide …”
Estevan softly grabbed her chin, then lifted her gaze to him. “Whenever you are ready. That includes never,” he said, leaning his forehead against her. “I laugh when you laugh. I weep when you weep. And I live for you, my Wyrdtwined—for you, and only you. You are so much more than I deserve already; I dare not greed for more.”
It didn’t matter how many times he had called her his Wyrdtwined by now—her skin still bloomed into a deep crimson.“What a clever tongue you have,” she said, smiling bashfully. “I wonder what else it is good for.”
Estevan chuckled. “If you want my tongue, witch, just say the word.” The back of his hand caressed her cheek, then trailed down her neck.
“Y-You’re not really going to make mesayit?”
“I am cruel that way. I want to hear it come from your pretty lips. Tell me what you want and how you want it. In detail.”
A deep flush washed over her face. “No!”
