Page 106 of Soul of a Witch

“You really don’t have to eat food?” I said while layering chicken, cheese, and salad on a thick slice of bread.

“I have no need for it,” he said. “I do enjoy the taste of some things, however. Meat and sugar I find to be particularly tempting.” He took a piece of chicken and a chunk of lemon cake, popping them both into his mouth and then nodding with pleasure. Despite my certainty that I wouldn’t like it, I dared to try the combination anyway and proved myself right.

Callum smirked at my repulsed expression. He pulled me against his chest, resting his back against the massive tree we sat beneath. The position allowed me to lean against him, sprawled between his legs.

“Close your eyes,” the demon said, and I obeyed with a little shiver of anticipation. “Open your mouth.”

Something sweet and fruity dripped onto my tongue. A slice of fruit touched my lips, and I bit in, giggling as its juices filled my mouth.

“I love peaches,” I said, my tongue tingling with sugar as I swallowed. His finger traced along my lip, following my tongue as I licked up the sweetness.

He brought something else close to my mouth. The scent of strawberry wafted in my nose, and when I took it in my teeth, I groaned contently as I tasted the cream heaped on top.

“Are there fruits in Hell that aren’t on Earth?”

“Yes. Many of them,” he replied. “Entirely different species than what can be found on Earth. The evolutionary paths of our worlds are very similar, but Hell is infused with so much magic, it led to deviations.”

“Mm, what kind of deviations?”

“That’s a broad question, darling,” he said, but he sounded pleased to be asked, not annoyed. “Where could I even begin? We have massive creatures, some of which are legendary even on Earth. We have species of plants as intelligent as primates. We have plenty of humans, but after a few years in Hell, they’re practically indistinguishable from demons, save for their lack of magical abilities. Lacking for most of them, at least.”

“There are other witches in Hell?” I said, my eyes popping open with unexpected excitement.

Callum laughed, reaching for a cracker and piece of cheese which I eagerly pointed to. “Yes, of course. Witches and demons have had a long and fraught history with each other. Among demon kind, claiming a witch’s soul is the ultimate prize. A rush of power that most demons could only dream of having.”

“Lucky you,” I teased.

He kissed my neck, teeth and tongue coming to play teasingly close to my ear. “I’m very lucky indeed. I’m going to be completely unbearable when I take you to Hell. I’ll be showing you off at every opportunity.”

Every time he said such things, it caught me off guard. My cheeks turned hot as Callum’s arms tightened around me, a possessively proud embrace that I never wanted to end.

“There’s more to your reward,” he said. “But you must promise me first that you’ll tell me if it isn’t right.”

Confused but intrigued, I said, “I promise.”

He reached for a parcel inside the basket, wrapped in brown paper and secured with twine. Setting it on my lap, he wrapped his arms around me again and rested his chin on my shoulder, clearly eager to watch me open it.

“Oh my God…Callum!” As I tore the paper away, I revealed a large leather-bound journal within. But that wasn’t all. There were paintbrushes in a variety of shapes and sizes, and tubes of paint in numerous colors.

“I realized that you lost your artwork and tools when you left your father’s house,” he said. “Your days shouldn’t only be spent working and studying. I look forward to seeing your creations.”

I shifted around so I could face him, readjusting myself to straddle his lap rather than sit between his legs. A mask had come over his face, perfectly concealing his emotions.

“It’s perfect,” I said. “I never expected this…thank you.”

“I’ll gladly continue to defy your expectations.”

His eyes widened when I cradled his face in my hands.

“Close your eyes,” I said, “and open your mouth.”

His gaze darted around: searching the clearing, the trees, even the sky for any potential threats. Gently, I laid the palm of my hand over his eyes. He drew in his breath sharply, spine straightening, nostrils flaring. But he didn’t push me away.

“Relax,” I said, remembering how he had talked me down the morning after he claimed my soul, guiding me through every moment of anxiety. “You’re safe with me.”

Slowly, his fisted hands relaxed, scratching lightly at the grass. His thighs unclenched beneath me, shaking slightly as he let go. He exhaled, a heavy sigh that deflated his chest and shoulders, and leaned against the tree again.

“That’s better,” I said, keeping my hand in place. Reaching back, I grabbed a piece of sausage and a small slice of a cherry tart. The combination didn’t seem tasty tome, but I had a suspicion Callum would enjoy it.

---