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Story: The WitchSlayer

“No, I will not make such promises. I will not lie to appease you!”

She twisted her head side-to-side, thrashing as she tried to pull from his hold. Amalia even arched her back to pull away. That made her rub her body against him, and she had to fight to hold onto her own fury.

“It is the same as if I asked you to stop becoming a Dragon!”

“I would never allow anyone to tell me not to take that form, it is who I am. I was born in it. I cannot live without that side of myself.”

He is too close.Amalia arched her back so she could wiggle up the bed and away from his body pressing against her, and it shifted their bodies.

Her eyes widened when she felt something long and rigid now pressing against her. Her eyes fell down his body.Is he hard?

She couldn’t see with their bodies meshed against each other’s, and she dared not believe what her body tried to tell her was pressed against her. Yet, her core reacted to the idea, and she struggled harder.

“Let me go!” When he didn’t, she continued, “If you cannot live without your Dragon form, then you should know I cannot live without my magic.”

“Yes, you can.” She felt his hips move against her, and she wasn’t sure if it was only to lift himself higher above her or not. “And you will if you want to be free here.”

Amalia halted, understanding what he meant. Then she gritted her teeth while giving him her own filthy glare.

“Then throw me in your stupid prison. If it means I will be free to use magic in it, then I would rather live there.”

He paused to give her an assessing eye while she huffed beneath him, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate.Did I finally convince him how much it means to me? That I truly cannot live without it?

Finally, he pulled back to stand.

She thought she had won, but a moment later, he grabbed one wrist, curled her body while he bent over, and she was suddenly tossed over his shoulder.

Then he took her from the room and started walking her down the tunnel.

Amalia beat at his back. “Put me down, you loathsome cad!”

He ignored her, taking her further inside his lair, past the room with tapestries to the fork in the tunnel. He began to walk down the more darkened path.

“I will hurt you,” she threatened while placing her hands against his back.

She could. She could unleash the fire she usually used to light her cooking hearth in her cottage.

“You do not want to hurt me,” he said with a dark laugh that was completely shaken with fury.

Dammit, he was right. She continued to beat at his back while kicking her legs. His hand was firmly grabbing her arse, and she wasn’t sure if he did it simply to hold her steady.

When they passed the two large boulders, he turned into one of the alcoves and popped her onto her feet. He pushed the centre of her chest to force her more into the room and put space between them.

“You are to promise not to use magic, or this is where you will stay.”

Her eyes fell on the mostly empty room. There were two torches to allow her light inside, a chamber pot, and a fur rug on the ground for her to sleep.

“All I want is to be able to use simple magic, things that make life comfortable. To cook my own food without your help, fill my own bath, fight off pixies.”

“Make the promise, Witch!” It was a yell, but it no longer held anger, it held frustration. It seemed like he desperately wanted her to submit, like he truly didn’t want to do this. “Do not make me lock you in here.”

She didn’t understand why he wasn’t just moving the boulder already.

Amalia turned from him, walked to the centre of the room, and sat down cross-legged. Then, to prove her point, she held both her hands up beside her with her palms flat towards the torches. With determination, she held his gaze and mentally chanted the words she needed. Two fireballs released from her hands to fly across the room and light the torches.

His eyes widened with horror that she had done it in front of him. She just folded her arms and waited for him to lock her in with her chin tilted up.

She watched his rage building.

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