Kenji too.
Oh my goddess, Kenji! Where are you?
As much as it pained me to admit it, I missed my kitsune and his endless stream of motivational chatter. Nothing raised the spirits of a miserable witch like being told she was too stupid to live.
Salty tears dripped off my cheeks as excruciating pain turned my insides to lava. Steam rose when the mage leaned in to turn the shower off, and I noticed he no longer smelled so bad.
Oh my goddess.
I sniffed hard, exhaling a shuddering breath as the desire for physical touch became overwhelming.
What in the demon realm was wrong with me?
I threw myself away from him in horror. This disgusting mage was my guard. Ihatedhim. Goddess, he stunk worse than a skunk, so why did my body suddenly crave his very-much-unwanted attention?
Ignoring my unhinged behavior, the mage dug his fingers into my wrist. Water dripped everywhere as he pulled me out of the shower room and threw the robe at me. His touch made the pain worse, but I did my best not to show any reaction.
The corridor was empty as usual. The mage tugged me along, cursing each time I stumbled. We passed through a sliding door into a new corridor. I tried very hard to remember the route, but every door looked the same, and besides, my brain had gone offline.
Finally we stopped, and the mage pushed me into a spartan room containing nothing but a plain bed.
“Wait here while I fetch some dry clothes for you,” the mage ordered, his lip curling in disgust at the sight of my red, sweaty face.
I sank down, resting my heated cheek against the cool tiled floor. The momentary relief it provided soon faded.
Something was wrong.
I whimpered, desperate to escape the agonizing cramps, but endless minutes ticked by and nobody came.
A nagging voice in my brain urged me to escape. Take advantage of the mage’s disappearance. If he’d left the door unlocked, there was nothing stopping me from leaving. Was it even closed?
I tried to focus on the stupid door, but it blurred before my eyes, like a mirage in the desert. The harder I stared at it, the further away it seemed. And besides, my body hurt too much.
So instead, I curled up into a ball and forced my brain to remember all the positivity mantras my favorite witchfluencers claimed helped them remain steadfast in the face of adversity.
After five minutes of chantingI am resilientandI am strong, I realized I was neither of those things and also that witchfluencers were full of shit and a digital detox was necessary when my mates finally rescued me.
“Everything I need is not fucking within me!” I yelled as the agony racking my poor, pathetic body became too much.
The door opened to reveal a tall male wearing tight gray sweatpants. Fresh cramps squeezed my uterus in a vise, and I groaned.
“Raven?” Alaric had found me, and to my everlasting shame, I had never been more pleased to see the storm mage. Or horny.
“I need…you.”
20
Alaric
10 minutes earlier
Amage had taken me for a shower and then vanished not long after. Not literally, but he’d claimed he needed to make a call and requested I stay put. Naturally, I did not stay put. Was he stupid? Probably.
My father rarely employed clever magicals. He preferred the sort of idiots who idolized him and didn’t question it when asked to sign contracts that contained compulsory suicide clauses.
The minute the mage disappeared from view, I dried myself off and pulled some clean pants on. Not a great fit, but they’d do.
Every room I passed was empty. I saw no staff. It was creepy as hell. Almost as if my father expected an attack and had cleared away the evidence of his misdeeds.
