Page 52 of Liar Witch

“He’s locked himself back in the cell,” she continues, stabbing a piece of mango with her fork and bringing it to her lips slowly. “He trusts himself less than you do.”

Rysen has experienced more horror at the hands of his own bloodlust than she can comprehend. Before I found him, he killed both friend and foe indiscriminately.

I almost killedhimfor the bounty on his head.

It was a significant sum. When I faked his death it kept me fed for months. The only reason I spared him then was because I saw the same dark curse over him that hung over my own head. My silence wasn’t my choice just as his bloodlust wasn’t his.

So I relocated the beaten vampire to a cave on the coast, sealed it, and made my camp outside. I rationed his blood intake for years, weaning him off the stuff.

Trusting that Nilsa has cured him of bloodlust with just a few days of mind-shattering orgasms and a fragile new mate bond seems hopeful to the point of being painfully naïve.

“I plan to lure him back out,” she continues. “This time, I don’t need a safety blanket, or an audience.”

She doesn’t wait for me to answer as she picks up her bowl and leaves, hips swaying in a hypnotic pattern that manages to distract me from what she’s saying until she’s out of the door.

There is no way that she’s going to face Rysen alone if he’s so unsure of himself that he’s locked himself away again.

Grabbing my own bowl, I pull my glamour around me and follow after her as fast as I can. I’m almost too late to slip through the door to the brig before it closes behind her.

“Stay by the door,” Rysen groans.

Nilsa does what he says, sliding down the wall to sit with her bowl cradled in her lap as she faces him.

“You’re not lost to the bloodlust,” she observes.

She’s right. I walk right up to his cell and examine his eyes for any sign of the tell-tale redness in them. Nothing.

His claws are retracted, his muscles loose. If he’s hiding his bloodlust, he’s doing it so well that even I can’t tell.

So why is he in here?

“You’re not bashing against the bars trying to drain me dry. Your fangs haven’t even dropped.”

His face goes soft. “I could still hurt you, little witch.”

She rolls her eyes, but keeps eating, staring at him. “I brought the key with me.”

“You mustn’t open the door.”

“You’re not dangerous, Ry.”

“You don’t know that—”

“Actually, I kind of do.” She taps the spot over her breastbone gently. “I can feel you here, remember?”

Suddenly the moment is much more private than I anticipated. Rysen stares at her with so much adoration that I feel like an interloper, but at the same time, I’m struck with a surge of jealousy.

He can look at her like that and win one of her small smiles for his trouble. If I did so, I’d only garner her suspicion.

Not for the first time, I wonder if letting her read my curse sigils was a mistake, but I quickly disregard the thought. It would be dishonourable not to let her know exactly who Fate chose for her mate. Marcella’s cruel curse has been difficult for me to endure, but I’ve learned from it. Bearing this burden has made me a better male, one more worthy of the witch before us. I shall not win my mate by trickery, as a much younger me might have.

Rysen was the one who taught me that all things worth having require hard work and dedication.

“You put far too much trust in me,” he mutters, breaking the silence and my train of thought. “When you fell from the top of the Claw, I almost drained you in the process of rescuing you.”

“You didn’t, though. Cas said you even let Val take some of your blood to heal me.”

“Only because I thought I could drain him if I got him close enough.”