Page 19 of Cursed by the Love Witch (A Monstrous Holiday #2)

19

THE HIGH WARLOCK

H er scream rips through the forest and pierces his heart.

Why was he not watching closer? He would’ve sensed the beast's presence long before it could strike if he had. He had wanted to give her some space to think after she lashed out, but now he sees that was a mistake. Racing through the forest, he watches in horror as the Kraken of the Bog pulls her towards the murky water.

Her nails embed themselves into the ground, but the beast is too strong. Its tentacles encase her arm and leg, pulling them at odd angles. There is venom in the suckers, no doubt increasing her pain. Rage, unbridled and all-consuming, boils in his blood. The primal part of him, which he always keeps tucked away, rears its head.

Instincts drive him to protect her. The creature pulls her into the water, the lower half of her body already submerged. He races towards the water, his hand extended. Magic builds in his palm as he blasts the creature with purple fire. The Kraken recoils, tightening his grip on Darcee. Bael blasts it with his fire again, and the beast lets out a broken screech.

His tentacles release her onto the stream's banks as it slips below the surface. Bael charges towards her, pulling her shaking body into his arms. Her leg and arms are both bleeding. Red blood mixes with the green goo of the beast’s venom. Darcee’s pink lips are pale, and her teeth chatter.

He needs to get her back to camp so he can adequately tend to her wounds. Darcee continues to shudder. Her good arm curls against his chest, dragging him closer. Bael can hear footsteps off in the distance; they won’t be alone much longer.

“Darcee.” His hands drift up and down her shaking body. “Darcee, can you hear me?”

Magenta eyes blink up at him. They glow anew—looking at him like she never has before.

“You saved me,” she whispers.

A fierceness pounds in his chest.

“Always,” he vows. “I need to get you back and clean your wounds.”

“You saved me,” she repeats as if in a daze.

Leaning forward, her lips meet his without checking to see if they have an audience. He hates how cold they feel against him, but Darcee’s mouth is always a delight. Scooping her into his arms, their mouths part, she rests her head against his shoulder.

Cradled in his arms, he carries Darcee past the curious students who break through the clearing. A few ask if she is alright, and he dismisses them. He needs to tend to her—he can’t bear to see her in pain.

As he continues to walk with her, he feels it. He knew there was something different in how she looked at him, and now he has all the confirmation he needs. In the middle of the Bog , he feels the faintest flicker of her soul brushing his—something he’s longed to feel for years.

His grip on her tightens—trying to capture it before it slips away.

No matter, he’ll claim it and her before long. Darcee will be his forever.