AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The witch's shadowed silhouette had stopped in the room to his left. A bit of moonlight poured in through the cracked window. They stood in an old living room, a simple fireplace right before them and furniture broken and dust covered on either side. Bookshelves ran from floor to ceiling, several of them toppled into a pile on the floor. He wondered if the old books were half the rotting smell.
“Sleep. We’ll be safe here, from the dragonis at least, and then we will be moving again in the morning.” She settled into an armchair.
Remis took stock of his options. He could lay himself down on the dusty ground, sit in the matching armchair opposite her, or he could try the couch that was missing a leg. He opted for the couch, scowling when the cushions flattened underneath him. A loud crack split the air before another leg broke and Remis lay with his feet tipped toward the ground and his head still at the original height. The witch let out a laugh, as beautiful as Sunday morning bells, that she quickly muffled behind her hand. His body went still at the noise. Perhaps she had a heart and soul in that wicked body of hers after all.
“Funny,” Remis murmured before crossing his arms under his cloak. This was going to be a long damn night.
22
Meira
The man snored in his sleep. It wasn’t a slight snore either. He sounded like a damn trumpet. Not that Meira was trying to sleep. She’d worried that if she did, he’d find a way to sneak off again and this time she wouldn’t be able to catch him. But the man didn’t wake once after he’d fallen asleep in a matter of seconds.
Damn him.
For far too long she’d sat in that armchair watching him. Then her thoughts kept running back to her catching him out in the snow, his firm muscles below her, how he’d twisted around to face her, and she’d felt the reaction of his body under hers. Even now as she seethed about this entire circumstance her thighs were clenched tightly. She could let her hands slip below her waistband, relieve herself of this tormenting ache. The thought of him catching her in the act thrilled her. What would he do?
No. She scolded herself. This was senseless. No matter what they experienced in some other timeline it meant nothing here. Attraction was only that. They were just two people who found each other appealing to the eye. She couldn’t actually like him; she didn’t even know him.
Thus, she reasoned, she shouldn’t care what he thought.
Her hand slipped into her leathers and under the thin layer of her undergarments down to her slick folds and that sensitive bud. She bit into her lip to keep quiet and found a rhythm that grew the traitorous pleasure. All too quickly her mind raced back to the memory of dancing against the hard planes of his body and how his swollen cock had found her core through their clothes. She could remember the wonderful feeling of his teeth against her skin and the flick of his tongue over her breasts.
Her entire core tightened at a blissful peak. Her head tilted onto the back of the chair, her mouth open wide. Though she tried her best to stay quiet a moan managed to escape her. When she came down from her high, she wasn’t sure that it had been enough, she could certainly go another round, but the snoring had stopped.
She cracked an eye open. Remis was perfectly still on the couch, his eyes closed, and chest still rising and falling with the slow rhythm of sleep. She exhaled and went limp in the chair. The need for sleep nagged her now. Her eyes drifted closed.
When Meira woke up, the sun was coming in through the window catching every piece of dust floating in the air. The space on the couch where Remis had been was empty. Dragons. She leapt from the seat, startled when a voice came from behind her.
“Good morning.”
She turned, her braids whipping around her with the movement. One almost whacked Remis in the chest but he caught it in his hand, fingers stroking the end once before he let it fall. “Were you just standing there above me watching?” Meira snapped, wanting to shove the chair out from between them so she could pummel him with her fists.
He huffed a breath. “Hardly. I was looking through the books. I got bored. I’m only here now because you flew out of that chair like your ass caught fire.” Those black eyes trailed her body as though he was imagining her ass right now.
Her cheeks flamed but when she turned toward the bookshelf evidence of what he said waited. Streaks were left in the dust where his finger had drawn several lines. A few covers were cleared of dust entirely and when she glanced at his cloak she saw where he’d wiped them against himself.
“What happened here?” He motioned to the home, though she imagined he meant more than just this one place.
Meira had never planned to return here, never wanted to see what had become of this place, but it was better than waiting to see if the dragonis found them in the woods. So when she’d reached the village’s limit and the columns—depicting the story of how the first witch had been born and then created the first coven—and found it was nothing more than forgotten history on rotting stone, she’d had to shove the torment of feelings that flooded her body deep down. She hardly let herself look at what had once been a floral shop, the old apothecary, and the butcher shop. Her body had moved on autopilot leading her right to the very street she’d grown up on.
She hadn’t been able to actually make it to her home. The idea of it had clumped in her throat and she couldn’t breathe around it. Instead, they’d stopped here, an old neighbor she couldn’t really remember.
“The town was ransacked and most of the inhabitants killed when Emperor Grandith came into power.”
When he’d sworn to kill all witches, is what she couldn’t say though it was implied. This was common knowledge. The hatred had been brewing for some time, starting with his father before him who’d never had anything good to say about a witch, or so she’d been told. Emperor Grandith had come to his own hatred more organically. He’d once loved a witch, had fought side by side with her when they’d seized the country and made it what it was today.
Meira’s mother had stories about how they’d slowly turned on each other, how one day the witch had marked Grandith with a huntress mark. Only Grandith wasn’t the one who’d been hunted. In the end, in his fear and rage, he’d hunted down every witch he could find.
“Oh.” Remis blinked. “This was a coven?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, terrified of the onslaught of memories that might come forward if she thought too hard. “Not the entire town. A small coven did live here though. The village didn't harbor hate for them like the emperor did and refused to give them up when he started his terrible crusade. Despite what you might think and the ridiculous things you’ve been told, witches aren’t evil.” The words spilled off her tongue fueled by years of never speaking them and festering under layers and layers of resentment and anger.
“The witches served the city. They were healers, masterful farmers, great crafters of steel, and teachers, but when his army came for them, the town fought for them…” Emotion clogged her throat.
“They slaughtered the entire place?” He’d gone pale in the early morning light.
“They burnt the women first. All of them. They didn’t know who were witches and who weren’t and so they all burned. Then they slaughtered the children.” Meira hadn't stayed to watch the end of everything she’d known. She’d been terrified and had sprinted through the woods barefoot as her skin was whipped by stretching branches. When she’d finally reached the next town a day later she’d heard the rumors and could somehow smell the charred flesh from miles away. Smoke still drifted as fires had smoldered into the next morning.
