“Just a bit lower!”
He didn’t want to trust her, but he did. He lowered his paw down enough to find the branch and climb down to it, his claws leaving marks on the bark on the way down.
“You’re doing great!”
“Don’t patronize me, witch.”
“Being nice, remember?” she said as if she were talking to a child, and indeed patronizing him even more. She held too much power.
He didn’t reply.
She continued to guide him down the tree, one branch at a time. But he made a fatal mistake. He looked down at the ground.
It was still high enough for his vision to swim. Suddenly, everything went blurry, his head dizzying as the world around him tilted. Up? Down? He couldn’t tell. Her instructions flew over his head as his grip started to slip. He clawed back into the branches, but it wasn’t enough; his foot slipped, and he fell.
He was going to die.
And the last thing he had done was beingniceto a witch. Although if it were any witch, he was glad it was this little one.
He fell, and fell, and fell, waiting for the ground to catch him.
Instead, he fell into a cloud of gentle arms. The little witch had caught him.
For a moment, they both stared into each other’s eyes, shock plastered on both of their faces. She had caught him,savedhim.
Reality crashed over him like a wave.“Put me down,”he demanded.
She obeyed, dropping him with no warning. He landed on his feet, shifting as soon as he hit the ground.
“I told you not to touch me,” he hissed.
“What? I just saved you!” she said.
“Cats always land on their feet; there was no reason for it.” There was very much a reason for it. But he wouldn’t admit it. He would have been too high up. There was a very real chance that he would not land on his feet, at least without injury.
“Whatever,” she said, turning away from him. “Next time I’ll let your ungrateful ass splatter on a canvas and sell it to a modern art museum for millions.”
For once, he let himself smile. Truly smile.
“Thank you,” he said.
The little witch turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
“Ahh, young love,” the tree said.
“Shut up,” they said in unison.
Felix stretchedout in the little witch’s bed, trying to ignore the scents of cinnamon that were all her. The key was cold in his palm as he studied it, the inscription catching the light.His brows furrowed.What the fuck?
A bright-eyed little witch moved from the chair, shutting her book and getting in his space. “What does it say?”
He groaned inwardly at the thought of saying it out loud. Why him? Why couldn’t the goddess have taken literally anyone else?
Exhaling forcefully, he read out the riddle on the key. “Twisted lovers surround her, circling an aching hole that has yet to be filled.”
He looked up at the little witch, whose skin was turning redder by the second. For the last line, he didn’t break eye contact, just to see what she would do. “If you want to find what you seek, open her legs and slip inside her waiting labyrinth.”
Her throat bobbed. “It’s so uh…lewd.”
