So even though it’s an order, even though I’m angry and dejected, I force one foot in front of the other with determination in every step. I walk a path that’s so familiar, it’s a habit, until I come upon the clearing where our coven ritual takes place. We have one every week, but today is a special occasion, a witch has come of age. She has come into her powers and will be brought into the fold.
I should be there to welcome her, but I am a disgrace.
A disappointment.
A foolish fucking excuse for a witch.
The dark thoughts plague me, brought on by so much rejection, and they swallow me whole. Not even the murderer wanted me. One kiss, and I drove him away, and now my own coven has discarded me like trash.
I crouch at the edge of the clearing, out of the reach of the firelight as more and more witches arrive in their ceremonial robes. They mingle, talk, and laugh, and I stand alone. I’m always alone. Tiredness weighs on me then.
I’m so very tired of being alone. I put on a good front, not letting them see how deeply it affects me, but here, in the dark, watching those who should be there for me, it fills me—bone-deep loneliness, the type you never quite get rid of.
I watch them start their ritual when something makes me shiver in fear and desire. A presence, something close. Spinning, I meet the blue eyes of the golden man who keeps appearing in my life. The man who kissed me and left, and now here he stands, watching me with that cocky smirk.
“What do you want?” I snap.
“Oh, why are we mad, Rose?” he taunts.
Don’t say it, I warn myself. “Why did you kiss me?” I cover my lips, but the words keep coming. “If you didn’t like it, why kiss me? Why just disappear—” I slam my mouth shut as he watches me.
He steps closer, bringing his heat with him. “I didn’t not like it, Rose. I loved it too fucking much.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask, dropping my hand. I’m already down Embarrassment Lane, so I might as well go full steam ahead. He knows I’m thinking of the kiss and that I’ve been worried, I see it in his eyes.
The knowledge that I wanted him.
“You tasted like hope, little witch,” he purrs, as I tilt my head back and meet those bright blue orbs. “And hope is a dangerous thing, especially for a creature like me.” He steps closer then, almost touching me. “I would consume you, suck you dry of it, and leave you broken-hearted as I walked away.”
“You think you could walk away?” I taunt, unsure where this sudden bravery is coming from.
He smirks, lowering his head, and the memory of how he tasted has me shivering. “I always walk away, Rose, always, and you would be no different. I refuse to break your heart. I refuse to hurt you, little witch. That, I can’t live with.”
I swallow, and he steps closer.
“This isn’t the time for a witch like you to be alone. Monsters are ready to eat you,” he growls.
“I’m not scared of you,” I scoff, even as I shiver from his nearness.
“You should be, Rose. You should be,” he replies dangerously as he steps back. His usually teasing blue eyes are shaded, dark, and filled with danger, and suddenly, I know I’m alone with a powerful being. One capable of both good and bad…I think.
He’s dangerous.
He admits he would hurt me, break my heart, and that he wants me…but he didn’t confess to murdering those witches.
“You’ll break my heart?” I tease.
“Not before I break your pussy, pretty witch,” he murmurs.
Swallowing, I step forward, and he steps back. “Why do you call me Rose?”
“Because you have the beauty of a rose, mysterious and alluring.”
“And fragile.” I snort.
“No, Rose, not fragile. Strong. Their beauty draws you in, and before you know it, their thorns are in you,” he murmurs.
We watch each other from meters away, both unsure what to say. “Are you here to kill witches?”
“No, I’m here for you,” he replies, then his eyes flicker to those gathered behind me. I feel their magic rising with the ritual. “Why aren’t you with them?”
“I’m not one of them,” I confess. “They don’t want me.”
“Then they are fools,” he scoffs. “And yet here you are, trying to protect them.”
“To protect everyone,” I correct. “Not just them. If I can do something to help, why wouldn’t I?”
He blinks and tilts his head, watching me. “Because people are selfish…but you’re not, little witch. You are pure, and you are kind…too kind.” He shakes his head and steps back. “Let’s get you home before I do something I’ll regret.”
“Like kill me?”
“Like fuck you,” he retorts, running his eyes down me hungrily.
Oh, shit.
Kyro
I leave distance between us as we walk, not wanting to tempt myself. She smells sweet, like tears and magic. I want to bury myself in her scent and lose myself in her heat, but I don’t. Not even when she tempted me, or when she pushed me and called me on my shit.
The little witch wants to burn in my fire.
I watch her walk, noticing she seems sad again. It also makes me wonder what happened with her and her coven. Surely she should have been with them? But she doesn’t seem to want to talk. Instead, she wraps her arms around herself, her eyes flying to the sky as she strolls without even looking, like she has walked this path a million times, but she doesn’t see the root sticking up. So, with a shake of my head, I grab her shoulder and steer her around it, and keep my hand there as she walks to stop her from getting herself hurt.
When we reach her cottage, I stop at the edge of the trees. Once I know she’s safely inside, I’m going back to the witches to hunt the murderer. She was smart to go there. If he wanted witches, that’s prime picking, but he won’t be getting mine.
She stops then and turns to me. “Why are you killing them…and why not me?”
Unable to help myself, drawn by her pain and sadness, I cover the distance between us and cup her cheek, forcing her to look at me. “Killing you is the last thing I want to do, Rose. Now go inside.”
“Why?” she whispers, searching my eyes.
“Because if you don’t, I might just kiss you again, and we both know this time that isn’t where it will stop,” I growl.
“I’ll stop you,” she states determinedly. “What you’re doing is wrong.”
“No, Rose, what I want to do to you is wrong. Very fucking wrong and dirty,” I tease.
“Hide behind your jokes, but I see through you. You’re scared,” she whispers, and then blinks as I step back, letting my hand fall, her warmth fading quickly.
“Goodnight, Rose,” I tell her, as I lift my palm, form a rose, and hold it out. She takes it and watches as I step away, my eyes locked on hers.
“What’s your name?” she calls.
With a grin, I decide to give it to her before I disappear. “Kyro.”
“Kyro,” she repeats, the word carrying on the breeze like a prayer. The sweet, soft way she says it has my cock begging for more and my heart flipping in an unfamiliar way.