Page 48

Story: The WitchSlayer

“Come now, your kind is not known for being shy. They often have rituals of sex that are viewed by others.”

“Get out, you perverted scamp!”

She threw her hands away from her face to yell, wishing she had something to toss at him.

“It appears I have been caught,” he said, making her realise he indeed had been wanting to gaze at her in a lecherous manner. Before she could say or do anything, he turned from her. “Fine, I will leave you to your modesty.”

He was lucky she didn’t toss the perfume at his nose.

Rurik found entertainment in teasing the pretty thing. He was rewarded with her sharp tongue, and he happened to like it. Much more than her tears, at least.

If she hadn’t cared, he would’ve been delighted to view her unclothed. He was awfully fond of the idea.

Now that he knew she wasn’t turning hateful because of what happened to her, he was hoping she would return to the way she was before. The chatty little Witch who had taken care of him inside of her cottage.

Her presence didn’t annoy him like he thought it would. Perhaps if they continued to conversate in the way they were now, he may come to think of her as a companion in his home. Although she was a prisoner, with the fact he was allowing her to roam around inside his lair, it was more like she was a guest.

A very attractive guest.He shook his head of that thought.

No, Rurik would not bed a Witch because she was pretty and conveniently in his home.

Although the idea didn’t disgust him as it had before, he would never allow himself to get that close to her. He would be distracted, and she could harm him.But she will not harm me, will she?

She still didn’t have violence in her. He could sense this.

Rurik hadn’t liked seeing her pain. He still didn’t fully understand why he changed into a human and held her. He’d been wary of her the entire time, wondering if perhaps she was waiting until he was in a more vulnerable form to attack him.

She didn’t.

Then instead of merely seeing and hearing her sadness, he’d felt it. He’d felt it against his chest as her body struggled to breathe against her own sobs, and her warm wet tears that had soaked the side of his neck and shoulder.

He’d felt it in her fingertips as she clung to his body.

He’d known she’d needed someone to hold when she clutched his scaled finger and that she had sought physical comfort.

He’d felt pity for the kind woman who took care of him even though he’d bitten her and tried to unleash fireballs at her. Yet in doing so, in holding her until she passed out in his arms, something small had shifted inside him.

When she had finally stopped crying and had trustingly fallen asleep against him, he understood that he no longer wanted to lash out at this female because she was born a Witch. Rurik no longer wanted to take his anger and hatred out on her because she was there for him to do so. She hadn’t asked to be in the situation she was in, and he wouldn’t torment her needlessly.

Rurik would never be able to release her even if he wanted to. Not when she had the knowledge of his home and human face, but he did feel regret that he was the one trapping her.

No matter. There is not much I can do about it.

If the Elders found out he released her, they would punish him. They may also punish him because he was keeping her alive, but he believed he may have figured out a way around that issue.

Rurik continued to walk, deep in his own thoughts, until he came to the entrance of his cave. He stared outside and realised he had made a grave mistake in coming this way. Everything he could use to entertain himself was the other way.

He turned and headed back. Since she was bathing, he thought he may do the same. One thing his kind preferred was to be clean so that dust and grime didn’t imbalance their wings in flight.

They often tried not to fly when it rained.

“You better not be peeping, Dragon.”

She must have heard his loud footsteps.

“Only passing through,” he answered while he passed the room she was in.

He did, however, look inside to find her back towards him. With one knee bent, she had the other leg straight in the air while she was rubbing her hands up it to wash it. A long and slender leg covered in tanned skin with water sluicing down it.

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