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Ian
This world, while new to me, feels familiar. Like a distant land I’ve dreamed about, always at the tips of my fingers but just out of reach. And the girl clutching my hand, dragging me along behind her, feels more familiar than anything—no, familiar isn’t the right word.
She feels like home.
Like a home I never knew existed but always wanted to find. Like the home I’ve been wandering the Highlands for, searching for the place that would make me feel whole. A place where I finally belonged.
We rush into her dwelling, and I nearly trip over her belongings scattered around the floor. The noises of her outside world are still too loud, still too distracting and overwhelming, but for her, I’ll deal with them. I’ll do anything for this woman.
After slamming the door shut, she whirls around. Her dark hair spills down her back as she peers up at me with those green eyes that hold me completely captive.
“Fuck me,” she breathes, her voice husky, and I pause. There’s that word again: fuck.
I shake my head, having already learned what it is but not willing to give up my virginity so easily. “I canna,” I say, truly apologetic.
Her face pales.
“I’m going to lie on the bed, and you’re going to fuck me,” she says again, putting more authority into her voice.
It’s adorable.
“I’m sorry, lass. I canna.”
Her chest expands as she takes a deep breath. “But I control you,” she mumbles. “You’re supposed to do what I say.”
“You dinna control?—”
“Walk to the kitchen and flap your arms like a duck,” she instructs, and my mind goes blank.
One foot in front of the other.
Step, step, step.
Stop.
My arms go out on either side, then I flap. I flap and flap and flap until my shoulders ache, but I don’t dare stop. Even if I wanted to, I can’t.
“Kiss me,” she says, and I drop my arms to my sides.
She stands only a few feet in front of me, so I get to her quickly. My arm bands around her waist, and I hold her closely. My lips crash against hers, and I kiss her until we’re both panting.
“Fuck me,” she whispers, and I blink.
My mind clears, and I drop my arm. “I canna,” I say again.
“What the fuck?” she breathes, running her fingers through her hair. “So, I can’t tell you to fuck me, but I can tell you to do other things. Interesting.”
I don’t know what she’s talking about, but something nudges the back of my mind.
“Ready for your mind to be blown?” she asks, and I shrug. “It’s shower time.” Wiggling her eyebrows, she pulls me through the house to another room. “Get naked.”
Every thought I’ve ever had flies out of my head as I drop my kilt to my ankles, rip my boots off, and shuck my shirt. Lyric’s eyes melt into glorious pools of green, and her hair, so silky and black, flows down her back like a waterfall in the night.
“Get in.” She jerks her head at the white tub in the wall, and I don’t hesitate as I step inside. She twists a few nobs, then water shoots from the spout on the wall.
“Witch!” I cry, fear clawing at my chest.
“I’m not a witch,” she hisses. “Stop calling me that.”
