Page 72 of Witch’s Heart

When they returned to their chambers, he stripped her down and led her to the bath. He ran a cloth over every measure of her skin. He spent extra time on her neck, where evidence of a blade remained in the form of dried blood. The mark might have healed, but the truth was there.

“Lola,” she said by way of explanation.

“I wish I could kill her for it. You promised me I wouldn’t lose you.”

“And I made sure to keep my promise,” she reassured him, pulling him against her, sinking into the water. He dragged her over to the shelf and sat, nestling her atop his lap. Her ass rested against his half-hard cock. He wasn’t in the mood to fuck—for once. He just wanted to hold her, to marvel in her.

“Tell me everything that happened tonight.”

She sighed, leaning her cheek against his shoulder.

He listened as she told him of how she’d waited in the neighboring cell, how she’d confronted Trudy, thinking the woman planned to single-handedly free Weiss and flee. Her surprise when Lola had pressed a blade to her throat. “I had the demons hiding in the corner because I didn’t know what to expect tonight,” she explained. “When I saw Trudy, it was almost comical. I thought to myself that I had well overestimated how difficult it would be apprehending your would-be killer. But the person who wanted you dead was none other than Trudy Holland. It felt like a joke. But it was a relief, too, that I wouldn’t need to use the demons. Only, in the end, they were what saved me.”

“You could have used your magic.”

“I did,” she said. “But there was a risk that Lola’s cut would have been deep. She warned me that if I did use magic, she would drag the blade across my throat in the process. There was some risk, even if I didn’t feel much fear.”

“Even the slightest risk leaves me fearful,” he admitted. “I don’t ever want you close to death.”

“I’m afraid that’s inevitable at this point. What have our lives become but a close dance with death? These days, anyway. Besides, I wasn’t as close as you were with a blade buried in your throat that day.”

“True. Seems everyone is out to kill us.”

“That just means we must stay one step ahead.” She pulled back, looking him in the eyes. “It just makes me realize that I need to find a way to protect you beyond the norm. I can heal from anything non-lethal, but you cannot, not without my magic. It makes me wonder…”

He ran his thumb across her jaw and prompted, “Wonder what?”

“Well, if Nebrine can be imbued with magic, something to keep demons away, what if something else, a token perhaps, can be imbued with magic for protection of a different kind? Healing protection.”

He frowned. “And you’d what, hang this token around my neck so that if someone harmed me it would heal me?”

“I…” A scowl pulled her brows down and she blew out a breath. “It’s probably stupid.”

“It’s not,” he said, eager to see her expression replaced with a smile. “I think it’s brilliant, if you can pull it off.”

“Really?”

He shrugged, pulling her closer. “You are the most powerful witch the world has seen in a long time. I dare anyone to argue that. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“Sometimes, I don’t feel like a witch anymore. Or, at least, that I don’t deserve the title.”

“You earned it.”

“Yes, but, this thing⁠—”

“Having something other doesn’t minimize what you already have. You are a witch, and a better one than any I know. Don’t ever forget that.”

“All right.” She pulled her lip between her teeth.

He immediately freed it with his thumb. “Don’t do that.” His voice was rough as he scolded her.

“Why? Does it make you want to fuck me?”

“You have no idea.” Even as he said it, blood rushed to his cock, making him immediately ravenous for her. Maybe he did need to fuck her after all. He could have lost her tonight, even if the chance had been slim. So, as he pulled her around and positioned her over the head of his cock, he thanked the gods she was still here. Then, he fucked her just to remind her that they were both alive, that it would take far more than a few assassination attempts and a betrayal to end them.

Epilogue

Rixon crumbled the missive then stood, pacing the length of his study. His breaths came in short bursts. He couldn’t believe it—didn’t want to believe it. A roar left his lips and his fist shot out, slamming into the wall. Pain shot up through his arm. He punched it over and over. Then he turned to the set of bookcases. Eyeing them, he reached out and ripped them from the wall, books scattering everywhere.