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Remis gave Meira his back as he closed the distance between her and his friends. The injured friend grunted as he was wrapped up in a tight hug between him and the other man. He slapped their backs and pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads. Meira had to look away, emotion that wasn’t hers came barreling down the bridge of the curse and made tears gather in her eyes. She pushed at the feeling demanding it leave her alone. She didn’t know these men, didn’t care about them or their safety the way Remis had. She wasn’t lying; if they didn’t go now she’d be content to kill them and keep her secret safe with her. Though Remis might think her a monster, she wasn’t. Most witches weren’t unless they had to be. She could be wicked, yes, if he treated her in such a way that required her to be. Part of her wanted to be wicked to him, that tortured angry and confused piece of her that didn’t understand what he’d done or why.
When he pulled away from the other two, Meira looked up, catching the way their eyes had all gone glassy. The warring of his emotions was still there at the edges of her mind but she willed them away, forced some of her indifference through that bond as if that might help him part ways. Remis turned back to her looking more haggard than before. Dark circles dragged his face down, the stubble on his cheeks looking more carelessly grown out than purposeful. He pushed a hand through his hair, keeping it carefully out of his face.
“Let’s go.” Meira pointed in the direction opposite of where she’d suggested his friends go. Remis’ features firmed into a resilient sorrow as he marched forward. He didn’t give his friends another glance. She almost wished he had, perhaps it would make what was to come easier.
21
Remis
Remis wished that he hadn’t seen her face.
Before, when she was only sinful curves wrapped in leather and full lips spread in a sneer he could imagine that the rest of her was as ugly as he thought a witch should be. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't ugly at all.
Damn it all, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
How vicious was this fate that his death came to him wrapped in this sinfully gorgeous package?
She’d held him at the end of his sword and all he could think about was how stunning she was under the last of the day's light. He’d been near enough to see the freckles too small for him to notice at a distance splattered across her cheeks and nose. The witch had glared at him, and though he felt the menace she intended for him, she hardly looked threatening with those large green doe eyes of hers. It made it easier to slip into the confidence he did not feel.
Even hating her as he did, he couldn’t pretend she wasn’t pleasant to look at. Plus, she’d offered his friends a mercy he hadn’t expected, though Merritt, the stupidly loyal oaf he was, had tried his damnedest not to part ways. But they would be fine. Percy would get the help he needed and they’d stay safe. Or at least he prayed to whatever great being might be listening that they would. He’d never really believed in the god that his mother had prayed to when he was young, but if that god was listening now, he’d swear himself a servant for the rest of his short life.
Merritt and Percy would be far from them now. The more distance between his friends and the witch the better. They’d walked for what felt like miles pushing through the tangle of brush toward the unknown with her at his back. She’d put her sword back into its sheath but in exchange, she held the point of a dagger.
He’d tried, without any luck, to strike up a conversation. The witch was stubbornly quiet, and the farther they went the more restless he became. Night was consuming them now, though thankfully the snow had stopped. Remis was shivering under his cloak, his breath clouding up before him obscuring his vision further. His teeth were chattering so violently he feared he might accidentally bite his tongue clean off.
“Are we to walk all night?” Remis finally snapped, coming to a halt.
She pressed the blade into his back, it poked through his cloak, the tip a threatening prick between his shoulders. “Keep walking.”
Snow was in his boots. His feet were going numb. Exhaustion was dragging his body down, begging for him to finally rest. She’d found him what felt like less than an hour after he'd gone to her in his mind and that had been enough exerted energy that he’d thought he might fall into an eternal sleep. He swayed but didn’t move. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest and gave her his best scowl.
“I’m tired.”
She snorted. “You poor thing.”
He sighed, rolling his eyes. If she was going to kill him he wished she’d just get it over with. Dragging it out like this was torture. “Why not take that blade to my throat now?”
Not even the snow crunched under her boot as she closed the space between them. She grinned, baring all her teeth as she let the blade settle at the base of his neck. His eyes darted to her mouth and lingered there longer than they should have.
Whatever words she might have said looked as though they withered on her tongue when his eyes met hers and her violent smile fell. She lowered the weapon.
“Why do you want me dead?” Remis pushed. “Why go through all this trouble when we don’t even know each other? How have I wronged you?”
She pressed her lips together. Fuck, he wanted to pry them apart with his tongue.
That thought alone was enough for him to want to bang his head against the nearest tree trunk. What was so fundamentally wrong with him that he found himself so attracted to the one person who wanted him run through with a sword? Or more currently, a dagger…
Still, she didn’t answer. The woman was careful with her words, choosing to speak only occasionally. Her green eyes, darker around the edges, could only be seen as the moon came out from behind the clouds to shine a spotlight down upon them.
Why wouldn’t she just answer him? Unless…
“You—” Remis laughed. “Do you not know?”
The malice in her gaze melted into a flicker of fear. Her eyes widened before she set her resolve and ground her teeth. That was it. She knew nothing. Had her coven sent her on an errand to collect him but not trusted her with the information? How could she not know?
“We’re almost there. There are ruins up here that we can stay in for the night and tomorrow we’ll reach Croughton.”
He supposed that was as good as it was going to get for him. Hopefully ‘almost there’ wasn’t too far because his knees felt wobbly and he swore on more than one occasion he heard the howl of a wolf. He wanted a warm fire and rest. If he was being honest, he wanted his bed, a hot cup of tea, and perhaps a warm cunt to slide into to rid himself of the tension that was building every time he glanced at her. Her warm cunt would be particularly pleasing. If it didn’t have teeth.
