Page 25 of Filthy Little Witch
“Smart,” I said. “The wards here are strong. Nothing’s getting past that front door.”
“Exactly,” she said. “But he does have a point. We should know if we’re the only ones here.”
I nodded and glanced at the candle, still flickering and dribbling wax down to her fingertips. “What are you doing with that?”
She smirked and put it on the bedside table. “Fire scrying. I was trying to get the spirits to tell me what’s going on, but they’re being unusually quiet.”
“Those bastards,” I teased.
Marta furrowed her brows and glanced back at me. “What were you dreaming about?”
A sharp slice hit me in the sternum, and I glanced at my lap as the memory of anguish crept through my veins.
“Nothing,” I said, my cheeks burning. “Just a bad dream is all.”
She nodded and stood to grab a tea from the table, handing it to me. “Drink this. It’ll help.”
I took it and brought it to my nose, wincing at the earthy compost smell wafting off the steam. “What is it?”
“Herbs,” she said. “Rue, chamomile, garlic, pepper. They have natural antibodies and healing derivatives.”
“It smells like grass,” I said.
She raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t want it, give it here.”
“No,” I said immediately, bringing it to my lips. I chugged it down, ignoring the weedy taste and the mild burn in my throat. It settled in my stomach like warm soup, comforting if not entirely palatable.
“Good boy,” Marta said and took the mug from me.
Heat snaked down my chest, into my abdomen, and not just from the tea. A low simmering tension gripped my lower stomach, yanking until my cheeks burned hotter.
Fuck my praise kink.
“The bond is still blocked,” she said, “and I don’t know why. I’ve been in the library for the last few days, and I haven’t found anything worthwhile. You should try to get some more rest.”
“No, fuck that,” I said, shifting around so my legs hung off the side of the bed. My torso stung and my muscles twinged, but I wanted to help. “It’s been a week. If you’re researching, I’m researching.”
“Wes.” She groaned. “A week ago, you were demon mincemeat.”
“And I’m feeling much better now, especially after your grass stew.”
She laughed, and the sound rattled something deeper inside me, more profound than her calling me a good boy.
“I can rest just as easily in the library as I can here,” I said. “Besides, it’s shocking you and Atlas haven’t already killed each other.”
“Well, that’s easy to do in a place this size. We just avoid being in the same room.”
“See?” I pushed to standing, wobbling as my core nearly gave out under the stress. She lurched to help me, but I held a hand up, stabilizing myself on the table. “I’m okay.”
She heaved a deep sigh.
“What do we know about the liminal?” I asked. “Any quirks or weird stuff happening?”
She shrugged. “Every day resets like Groundhog Day. Any food we eat gets replenished at midnight. Any chances we make reset. It’s like we’re living the same day over and over again.”
“Wonderful. At least it’s a starting point.”
She smiled and nodded, stepping toward the door. Just before she left, I stopped her.
