Page 46 of Rejected By the Winter Wolf

His lips pull back just the slightest, but his gaze gets hotter, or darker, or something. He could be the one with witch magic in his blood, with the way he’s ensnared me with a single look.

He motions for me to turn around.

I do it quickly and let out a slow breath as our staring contest comes to an end.

But then, maybe giving him my back is worse.

He tugs the hem of my shirt all the way up to my neck. I gasp and cover my front, trying to keep the fabric over my stomach.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat. At what, I couldn’t guess.

“How did the demon get into my house, Astra?” He presses his palm to one of the three wounds, forcing healing magic into my skin.

My lips part. The burning sensation dulls, replaced by warmth spreading along my back.

“No idea,” I force out.

“What were you doing?” His palm is getting hotter. He leans down and runs his nose up the back of my neck. He moves into my hair.

I’m stiffer than a board, unable to do anything but let him do whatever he’s doing. My heart pounds. His other hand is on my hip, and his fingers dig into my skin.

“I…”

God, his touch is too much.

“I was trying to find my mother,” I finally whisper.

“And did you?”

Alarm bells go off in my head. Danger, danger.

“No,” I lie.

He goes still for a moment, curved around me. Touching me way too intimately for someone who threatens my very existence.

But then he backs away, leaving me cold all over again.

I roll my shoulders back, surprised at how much better it feels. Still painful, but…

“Do you want to know why you’re here?”

I face him and nod. My body hums in sudden anticipation and fear. He was after a Seer. I’m not one, not even close. So, why?

His eyes gleam.

He reaches forward and snags my wrist, dragging me into his body. His lips touch my ear, and goosebumps break out across my skin.

“We’re going to track down a blood witch and make her break a curse.”

Oh no.

He doesn’t give me any time to process that—and really, that’s a lot to fucking process. He grips my upper arm and leads me out of the room. Down the stairs, which I stumble over in my hurry to keep up with his long stride. He doesn’t slow in the slightest, his hold on me only tightening.

Blood witches are dangerous. They practice dark magic, using blood and sacrifices to bolster their power. They call demons to do their bidding. Without blood magic, it takes an entire coven to make a circle powerful enough to contain a demon. Every time a blood witch dips into that power, their soul corrupts further.

They’re exiles. Seeking one out is a death sentence.

I peek up at him. “Are you going to tell me about this curse?”