Page 46 of Soul of a Witch

She stepped closer, pressing herself against my chest and letting out a heavy sigh when I embraced her. Even a few days without touching her had been too much. The way her tense body melted against me was sheer heaven.

If I could have swallowed her whole, just to have her live beside my heart, I would have.

“I haven’t had a chance to get the grimoire yet,” she said shakily. “They’re watching me so carefully. They’re suspicious. And they have the next sacrifice. Or they will soon. A girl named Raelynn.” She shuddered and shook her head. “I can’t watch anyone else die. I can’t do it, I can’t.”

“Don’t dwell on what may or may not happen.” I was far more concerned by the cursed magic locked around her wrists, and whatever the hell had happened in that cathedral. “These cuffs — do they hurt?”

“Not so much.” She drew back, staring at the glass bindings. “At least, not anymore.”

I drew her arm closer so I could have a better look at the damn things. The air around them vibrated with subtle energy, and despite being made of glass, the items smelled strange, like metal.

“You must be extremely careful with these,” I said. “They’re vampiric. The harder you try to use magic with them on, the more of your power they’ll sap, and the stronger they’ll become. Vile things.”

It enraged me to see them on her. No one should have been binding my witch, save for me.

“Easy enough,” Everly said, clearly trying to sound hopeful. “I won’t try to use magic at all, which…isn’t hard for me.”

“Says the woman who spontaneously teleports.” I took her into my arms again, and she gasped softly when I lifted her off her feet, carrying her back to the bed. Her bed was rather small, the soft green sheets and blankets tidily arranged, just like the rest of her room.

From what I had observed, the rest of this house was painfully sterile. White walls, white carpet, white furniture. Unnaturally bright, crisp, and clean. But Everly’s room smelled like pine and paint, like sweet magic and soft skin. Her belongings were scattered about on shelves or piled into corners; books and canvases, wooden knickknacks, and little glass figurines.

She was tense as she sat between my legs. She refused to lean into me, instead curling in on herself and shuddering for a moment. How I longed to read her thoughts, if only to know instantly what was bothering her so I could destroy it.

If I were to claim her soul, then I —

No, no. Although the temptation was there, to bind myself to another living being, to intimately feel their pain and terror every waking moment, to feel with certainty when they died…no.

Every binding, every connection, was an open wound, and I couldn’t bear any more injuries.

“What happened in the church?” She was so close to me, and yet she felt so far away. “The God spoke to you?”

She nodded, pulling up her knees and wrapping her arms around them. “It got in my head. I thought I could shut It out, but It was too strong. It —” She shivered. “I still feel It. I still hear It. Like It lives in my head. I’m scared, Callum. What if It never goes away?”

“I won’t allow that to happen. The God’s presence in your mind is an illusion. It is reaching you with psychic power, nothing more. Don’t think of It. Don’t give It any more of your thoughts. That’s exactly what It wants.”

Could I truly protect her? Or would I fail her like I’d failed the others?

This room was a treasure-trove of information about her; many of her books were massive volumes on history, languages, or ancient civilizations. But the ones closest to her bed had colorful elaborate covers, many of them featuring couples intertwined in each other’s arms.

She sputtered when I picked up one of the paperbacks, opening it to her marked page. “W-wait, um, that’s, uh —”

“Literary pornography.” I smirked as I read the first passage on her marked page.

“It’s notporn!”She looked scandalized I’d even say the word. Grasping her face, I dragged her closer, giving the silly little thing a shake.

“There’s nothing wrong with what you like. Humans have such a ridiculous habit of shaming each other for what they enjoy. Erotica, porn, sex, unusual fetishes — so long as the participants are willing, there is no shame in it.”

She looked confused. As if the concept of living without shame was new to her.

“Is there something in here you don’t want me to see?” I settled against her headboard with the book spread open between my fingers. “The pages smell like you.” Her face flushed a deep crimson as I scanned the page. “Ahh, so you like to read about a woman in charge, eh? Are you imagining yourself in such a position, or on the receiving end?”

“Oh, I, uh — both? Uh, yeah, both, I guess. I’ve never really been with another woman, but I’m curious.” She tucked back her hair, squirming awkwardly as I read. “I don’t know if I’d be any good at it though. Being in charge, I mean.”

She said it with such a defeated shrug that I burst out laughing. “Well, you’ve nevertriedit, have you, darling?” She shook her head, and I put aside the book. “Would you like to?”

Her eyes widened. “Try it? W-with you?”

“There’s no one better.” Although I tried to maintain my calm, I was practically foaming at the mouth for this.

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