Page 25 of A Witch’s Guide to Love and Poison

25

A few hours later, when she woke again, she and Xander were facing one another, the way two sunflowers face each other on a cloudy day. Sunlight slanted in over them, illuminating the rumpled sheets and blankets in rectangles of light. When Bisma opened her eyes, she found he was already awake, looking at her with an expression so soft that it made her feel shy.

They were in bed together after all, even if all they had done was sleep.

She buried her nose in her pillow. ‘Don’t stare.’

‘How can I not?’ he asked, tucking a tendril of dark hair behind her ear, exposing her cheek. She looked back at him; his green eyes were bright.

They looked at each other for a while, cocooned in an emotion she could not name, but whether mere moments passed or hours, she could not tell.

‘Thank you,’ Xander said, breaking the silence.

‘For what? I should be thanking you for letting me stay.’

‘Thank you for asking me,’ he said. ‘Nobody ever asks anything of me.’

‘That bothers you?’

He nodded slightly, as if shy himself.

She gave him her fullest attention. ‘Tell me why.’

He smiled at that. ‘Always bossy,’ he said. ‘Well, it’s just that my life is … perfect, so perfect I feel utterly useless at times. I want to do something with my life, to help people—the way you do. I’ve seen you with your sisters; it’s extraordinary. They need you. No one ever needs me … or depends on me, or trusts me.’ He swallowed. ‘So you needing me is nice because then at least I can be useful to you.’

‘You like being needed?’

‘Yes,’ he breathed. ‘Especially if it’s you. I’ll feel like I’ve done something with my life even if it’s solely you that I can be useful to.’

‘Oh.’ She had never thought that could be a possibility. And she couldn’t help but think of Gregory who had wanted her to never be needy and to just be content with whatever he was giving—in fact, requiring her to put up with him being needy. And now here was Xander, who rather than feeling burdened by, it was outright pleased.

It was hard for her to ask for help, but he made it so easy. He was always there for her.

Perhaps needing people wasn’t such a bad thing; perhaps it could even be … good.

She missed being needed by her sisters now that they were all asleep. She had never seen them as a burden—yes, it was difficult being Baji, but she loved them, and she loved showing that love through acts of service and care. So why not allow others the opportunity to do the same for her?

She’d always thought she didn’t need it, but everyone needed someone.

And she needed Xander; she could admit that now. Not only needed but wanted.

She was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him but held back for it was quite a frightening feeling. It wasn’t just physical desire, lust that could flare and eventually burn out—it was a feeling deep in her core, a flame that if stoked would keep her warm and never die out.

So instead she smiled at him. ‘What I need now is some breakfast.’

He smiled back. ‘Of course, darling Bisma. What will you have?’

‘Hmm.’ She pretended to think. ‘A dozen eggs, a loaf of bread, exorbitant amounts of raspberry jam, and a pot of your very best tea. Please.’ She added the last word as an afterthought.

‘Only because you asked so sweetly.’ He tapped her nose, then got up, stretching. She was about to get up as well but stopped to languidly watch the muscles in his back and shoulders shift.

He was so …

There were no adequate words.

He disappeared to the main house to get breakfast, and she freshened up, checking on her sisters. She whispered a secret to each of them, smiling to herself as she shared the impossible news, even though they were not conscious to hear it.

Just saying the words aloud made her heart pound.

Xander returned in a fresh outfit with his hair tidied and a large tray of breakfast. They ate together, and he was so lovely and kind and caring and sweet, she wondered how she had ever thought of him as anything else.

After eating, they got straight to work, just as they had all those days before, and steadily kept up at it until halfway through the day, when Xander realized they needed more empty bottles for their sample potions.

Bisma accompanied him to town, needing a break. Like the night they went for dinner together, she was aware of people watching, but this time, instead of worrying that Xander was flaunting her, she was more concerned about how out of place she felt.

Bisma was so used to spending time alone with him in the greenhouse, away from watchful eyes, that she felt exposed to be walking across the square with him. She wanted to hide in his shadow, but Xander matched his steps to hers, never leaving her side.

She was no longer worried people would laugh, but that they would judge her, or, worse, feel sorry for Xander. She could see it on their faces; they were wondering what he was doing with her. The Unwanted Witch with the town’s golden boy. They didn’t fit together. He was as bright as sunshine, and she was dark as midnight rain.

‘You go in,’ Bisma said, when they arrived at the pottery store that sold the glass bottles they needed.

‘I’ll just be a sec,’ Xander said.

After he left, she sighed. She did not know what to do. She didn’t know what was right or best in this moment that would determine her future. If she pushed Xander away—to protect herself—would she regret it? Or if she allowed him in, opening herself up to heartbreak, would she regret that ?

Bisma was so lost in thought that she did not see Xander exiting the shop, just as an angry woman was approaching Bisma.

In slow motion, she saw the woman upend a vial of liquid into the air; she smelled the sharp scent of acid.

All Bisma could do was brace for the attack.

But it never came.

‘Xander!’ she cried, horrified.

Her heart dropped as she took in his injury. He had blocked the attack. His skin hissed from the acid, and he groaned with pain. The woman ran off, but Bisma didn’t have time to chase after her. She held Xander up. He was shaking.

‘Come on,’ she said, half carrying him. She didn’t think—if she was thinking clearly, she might have led him to the greenhouse, which was closer—but her brain wasn’t working. Her feet moved on their own accord, leading her to the Enchanted Forest.

She could fix this; she knew she could.

‘Just hold on,’ she said.

Xander was gripping her tightly, and she didn’t stop to assess the damage—it would only slow her down, and she needed to get him to the Forest as fast as she could so she could heal him.

When they got to the border of the Enchanted Forest, a foreboding wind whistled. The Forest was not happy at the prospect of a stranger entering.

‘Please!’ Bisma cried. ‘I need to heal him!’

The wind calmed, the Forest acquiescing to her request. Holding Xander up, she walked into the Forest. The fog was thin, hardly there, and provided no resistance.

‘Help me,’ Bisma said.

The Forest was slow to react—she wondered if it was discontentment or something else—but then finally a branch reached out from a tree, carrying half Xander’s weight as she brought him to her treehouse. There, the branches carried him all the way up to her room as she caught her breath. Xander groaned, and her heart squeezed.

This was all her fault. Tears blurred her eyes as she ran to her garden. Without thinking, she stuck her hands into the soil, letting her magic take over. The Forest was lacking its usual power, so her magic did not flow so freely. The connection felt weak, but she couldn’t think about that now. She pushed her magic, and a surge of energy poured from her hands.

Something like an aloe vera plant sprouted from the ground. It was what she needed; she knew it. She plucked the thick leaves and ran up the stairs, grabbing a knife from the kitchen then heading straight for her room.

Xander was lying on her bed, the skin of his cheek, neck, and chest an angry red. His waistcoat and shirt had burned through in the attacked area, and the skin beneath was blistered.

‘Bis,’ he said, lifting his hand to reach for her.

‘I’m here.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘I’m going to take this off,’ she explained, using her knife to cut off his waistcoat, then doing the same with his shirt, discarding both.

‘Not quite how I imagined you undressing me playing out,’ he said, gasping with pain yet still attempting levity.

She wasn’t amused in the slightest.

‘Shut up,’ she said, her voice stern.

He nodded. ‘Right away.’

Once he was disposed of his shirt, Bisma cut open the plant she had grown. Inside the leaves was a slippery, clear jelly threaded through with marigold-orange lines. She sliced out the jelly, warming it in her hands with magic until it became a thin gel.

Xander closed his eyes, nodding. His hair was matted with sweat, his throat working hard as he swallowed. He was trembling.

‘This will heal you,’ Bisma said, applying it to his cheek first. Her voice broke on the words, but it seemed to be working; his skin immediately cooled, the blisters withering away.

‘Mmm,’ Xander said. ‘That feels better.’

Bisma continued spreading the gel, working her way carefully across his skin, making sure to get every affected inch. As she moved down to his neck, he stopped shaking, and by the time she reached his chest, he was breathing deeply, asleep.

Only when Bisma had finished applying the salve did she stop to catch her breath. Her hands were quaking, and she closed them into fists. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Xander.

He was fast asleep now, shirtless in her bed. Standing, Bisma pulled a blanket over him, tucking it under his body. He didn’t even stir.

That was normal; she knew that. He needed rest to properly heal, but, even so, she couldn’t help the hot tears that filled her eyes and fell down her cheeks, as she looked at his still form.

The attack had been meant for her . Why had he stepped in front of her? Why had he risked himself? She was so angry with him!

But deep down she knew she was really angry with herself. Every time she felt she had moved forward with him, something threw her off course, again.

She had been so concerned about what people would think of Xander having her by his side that she hadn’t even paused to consider the danger he was opening himself up to by associating with her .