Feline ears perked at the sound, tilting his head in a creature-like manner as his glare ran over her bloodied lips before meeting back up at her eyes.
His gaze raked her body. Every urge screamed at her to cover herself somehow. But there was nowhere to hide. His hold loosened ever so slightly, and she seized the opportunity to thrash. Water sloshed in the tub, sending more over the edge.
His hand slipped from her wrists, and a sliver of hope shone through her; she could run. She started to move before his hand moved unnaturally fast to wrap around her throat. Her meager courage dwindled and died. She was a mouse caught in his trap.
Her gasp was swallowed by the rush of water shifting around them. In a single motion, he hauled her higher, forcing her back over the curved lip of the bath. The cool air of the room skimmed her wet skin, and she felt it tightening at the sudden change of temperature.
One of his legs slid between hers, lifting her up by her core. He braced her against the bath, using the leverage to arch her body further over the bath rim until her spine protested. Her head tipped back, vision swimming with spots of light.
His eyes locked on hers, assessing her.
“Careful, little witch,” he murmured, his thumb pressing just enough to make her heartbeat thunder in her ears. “You won’t win that game.”
A strangled breath escaped her as she clawed at the shifter’s arms. Maybe this memory would be useful one day, maybe she could write the first witch-shifter porn. She was losing her vision. He was going to kill her. Maybe that was a good thing. This would all be over. One less useless witch in the world. It was better that way.
But she didn’t want to die. Like a possum that had determined in its peanut brain that it was the best course of action, she played dead.
Seven
Felix
Shit.She was losing consciousness. He needed this fucking witch alive. She gave up far too quickly. It was disappointing. A cat liked to play with its prey, after all. And what wonderful prey she made.
Normally, with witches, a bounty would come through from the human government because a witch had broken one of their rules. Often, that rule involved using unauthorized magic on humans or breaking through the wards. Most witches followed the rules, but the ones who didn’t, they werehis.It wouldn’t heal the hole that the witches had left when they killed his father, but each one he killed helped.
Before he could decide to let the little witch go, she slumped in his hold, twitching and jerking dramatically from the lack of oxygen.
A groan escaped him as he let her down gently into the water, making sure she didn’t slip beneath. He hated that he had to be careful with one of them. She deserved none of his kindness, not that there was any left, and especially not for a witch. Two fingers pressed against the veins in her throat, checkingfor a pulse. It thundered hard against her neck, indicating that, fortunately or unfortunately, she was still alive.
Maybe this was good. It gave him time to think. He thought he couldn’t shift so soon after his monster form, but the way she had manhandled him into the bath was the last straw, and his ego couldn’t take it. He wasn’t going to spend one more second letting her treat him like a pet.
The constellation of freckles on her body caught his attention as the water lapped at his knees. Some were sparse, some were in groups. Her body reminded him of an artist’s canvas, two small peaks surrounded by a pale night sky. His gaze traced her belly button before he found the place where her thighs met. Sheer lace mocked him; he shouldn’t be looking, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away either.
His cock twitched; he wanted to touch her. Shifting always made everything more intense: his hunger, his arousal, the sensations of this witch against his body tenfold in this form.
“Fuck,” he growled, directing his eyes away from this goddamn witch. The sight of him choking her as she writhed underneath him had awakened something in him that hadn’t stirred in years. Most women fell at his feet, which was nice, easy. But the ones he had to chase,literallychase, were his favorite.
Regardless of the way his body reacted to her, he would never defile himself with a witch. Why was he even still touching her? He hated every moment of this.
Another wave of need pulsed through him despite his hatred. He looked to the ceiling to collect himself for just a moment.Stupid bond. That’s all this is, some stupid bonding spell she had put on him.She stirred underneath him. That wasn’t right. An unconscious person shouldn’t stir.
He glanced down. One of her eyes cracked open, just a sliver, but enough to be noticeable. Their stares met, and she slammedher lid shut as if they hadn’t just made eye contact for a full second. A part of him found it amusing that in the face of the most dangerous thing to a witch, her grand strategy was to play dead.
“I know you’re awake, little witch,” he said, grabbing her face between his sharp claws. How easy it would be to break her delicate bones. The witch glared at him as if he had actually woken her up from a deep slumber, and that his presence was an inconvenience rather than a scare.She was a feisty one.
In a moment of weakness, his body loosened, and she spat in his face. The glob of spit landed between his eyeballs, temporarily blinding him as the witch shoved against his chest and scrambled out of the tub.
Thefuckingaudacity.Hewas the one to usually spit in girls’ faces—sexually, and consensually, of course.
He could have caught her. One quick grab and it would have been over. But the rush of her breaking free sent a hot jolt through him. Helovedthe chase. A feral snarl tore from his throat as he went after her.
Giving her a head start, after just a few seconds, he stepped out of the tub with unhurried feline grace. Water slid in rivulets down his torso, pooling at his feet before he followed her like a bloodhound.
“Run all you want, little witch, just remember I hunt better than you hide,” he said, licking his fangs.
He caught her in the lounge before she could make it to the door. A shadow snaked out, the tendril clamping around her ankle, and he yanked. She hit the floor with a muffled thump, a hitched inhale tearing from her lungs. Satisfaction coursed through him while something else hummed in his chest; he couldn’t tell whether it was the bond or the monster within him waking once again.
In an instant, he was over her. His legs locked around hers, pinning them hard against the carpet. One hand wrenched her arms behind her back, and the other pressed her head to the floor, forcing her cheek into the rug. Her breath came shallow beneath him, the heat of her skin burning through his wet grip.
