Page 16 of The Arcane Taste of the Witchwood Boys (The Witchwood Boys #4)

Kate

I’m gagged.

That’s the first thing I notice when I come to. Second thing is that Tanner’s behind me, rutting away with his strong hands clamped on my hips, moaning unashamedly. His voice is loud as it echoes across the beach, obscene. Inappropriate.

It’s mid-day and there are few enough Witchwoods trees around that we’re getting sun. It sparkles off the sea as I groan behind the gag between my teeth, something made of iron, sturdy and backed by a chain that holds it around my head.

I’m bent over a driftwood log, and I’m being railed to within an inch of my life. I scream behind the gag, but only because it feels so fucking good. Tanner is warm and hard, and waking up with him inside of me is never a bad thing.

Yes, yes it is a bad thing, Kate! I tell myself, but I’m gagged. That’s good, right? Can’t bite ‘em. Bound, too, with a pair of iron handcuffs. I can tell that’s what they are because they tingle around my wrists.

“You awake, baby?” Tanner asks, pausing the wild motion of his hips as he leans around to peer at me. We make eye contact, and I blush furiously all over when I see how handsome he is with his silver scar catching the light. His bisected brow lifts, a tiny bone pierced through it that I’ve never seen before. “Oh, how fun. The other two boys had their fill and blew their loads in you while you were still asleep.” He leans down and licks the side of my face with a too-long tongue, and my hat licks him right back. “I can hear your heartbeat, Kate. I know how much you like the idea of them climaxing in you while you were passed out.”

And I do. It’s so messed-up, but I get off on it and they know that. Tanner plays it up for me, rocking his hips against my ass in time with the crash of the waves.

“You’re a dirty, filthy mess, Kate.” He smacks my ass, using a finger to trace the spread of my pussy around his cock. Drawing lines through the wetness dripping down my thighs, tracing his way back up to my ass. Tanner uses Brooks’ and Marlowe’s cum to push that single finger inside of me, and I groan against the gag again, thrashing around as boots appear in the sand in front of me.

Marlowe squats down, wearing sunflowers on his hat that are too heavy to sit upright. They hang over the brim, big and bright and cheerful. He looks into my eyes as my hat slaps him in the cheek with its tongue, and I taste all of the emotions I’ve been so careful to avoid.

Love. Determination. Fear and anxiety and strength and lust and relief.

He gives a soft laugh, reaching out to touch my face with gentle fingers that make no sense compared to the rough fuck I’m getting from behind. Tanner crooks his fingers and strokes my inner wall, massaging his own dick in the process. I’m gagged and bound, but not because I don’t want to be here.

They know that, too.

“If you can figure out my emotions for me, I’d welcome that.” Marlowe tilts his head before lifting his eyes from mine to Tanner’s. “Ready for part two?”

“I’m so ready,” Tanner moans, massaging my hip with one hand and thrusting into my ass with the other. He unloads inside my pussy, his seed mixing with the other two men. I haven’t come, but that’s fine. I should just go.

I need to leave as soon as possible.

Tanner pulls out of me with a grunt, taking his finger with him and leaving me empty and wanting and sad. We’re on a beautiful beach in good weather, all by ourselves. The sun is out. The Witchwoods foliage adds to the atmosphere rather than detracts from it. Bound I might be, but I manage to turn myself over, sitting on the log with cum dripping out of me.

The ocean is punctured with a forest of giants, trees so tall that their tops stick out of the water despite its depth. Huge coral structures that look like modern art sculptures made out of bone. Glowing beds of brightly colored algae that rest on the surface, swaying with the motion of the water. Green. Purple. Pink.

It looks like a painting.

“Hello, Kate.” Brooks is staring down at me, stern-faced and serious. “Did you enjoy the cockies? I love how trusting you are, but my God, I’m glad you didn’t end up with a coven full of even worse monsters.”

There’s a blanket in front of the log that Marlowe settles on while Tanner stands off to one side, naked cock shining under the light, wet and filthy. I look away, blushing, clenching my teeth around the iron bit. If I tried harder, I could snap it in half. I curl my wings around me to hide my nakedness.

The dress I borrowed from Fernanda is bunched up above my bare tits. My bra and panties are long-gone. Probably cut off or torn off and thrown away. I cover myself in feathers, but it doesn’t work for long.

Marlowe takes me by the hips and drags me off the log to join him on the blanket, my naked thighs spread around him while he sits on his knees in front of me. My hat is like a happy puppy, licking him and filling me with his mixed-bag emotions.

“Remember what I promised you, Kate? Way back when?” Lo’s naughty lips twist up in a crooked smile as Tanner and Brooks prepare a circle of flowers around us. Laying out bones. Laying out dead (or sleeping) butterflies. The shape and the ingredients, they remind me of the spell used to bring me back to life, and I hate it.

I shake my head.

“I said I’d go down on your freshly fucked pussy, suck you off, and give it all back.” He works his jaw a little, and my hat detects some trepidation. A little disgust. Determination. “Only, instead of spitting it into your mouth, we have other shit to do.”

“We’re consecrating the West.” Brooks uses his shadow to point out at the sea, working on the spell prep as he talks. “After this, we’ll do the East. Then the North. South is our final destination. This is a big spell circle, the biggest I’ve ever made. By the time we’re finished, it’ll stretch an hour from north to south, and an hour from east to west.”

I nod, eyes downcast, my skin hot. My cunt is throbbing, and each contraction of my muscles pushes their mixed release out of me and onto the blanket. Marlowe looks down at it, and then back up at me.

“Having you around makes everything so much better,” he admits, breathless. “Making those stupid cookies was hell without you. Just me and these guys, jerking off to thoughts of you. It was sad, Kate.” Marlowe leans in toward me, putting one palm on the blanket between my legs and getting too close to my face. “You don’t want to turn us into pathetic simps, do you? Because we’ll never stop. The more you resist, the worse we look.”

I make a noise at him, one that I’m not sure even I can interpret. It sounds a bit like a plea. But am I pleading with them to let me run … or to save me?

I’m terrified. I’m scared. I willingly paid the price, but … I’m afraid. And they know that part most of all.

“May as well get this over with,” Tanner grumbles, rubbing at the blond stubble on his chin. He has this expression on his face that looks pained. There are so many reasons to be pained on this beautiful late summer afternoon that I don’t think too much about it.

“May as well.” Brooks sighs as both he and Tanner take their positions in the south and the east. I’m in the west with Marlowe.

Lo reaches up to grab either side of his hat brim, tugging down on it. His mouth is crooked, his eyes on my pussy and not my face. I should slam my legs closed, use my cursed strength to get free, and take off.

I open for him and he groans, dropping down to his palms on the lumpy surface of the blanket. With the sand underneath, it’s wonky, with pits in places and hills in others, but it also shifts with my movement. When I lean back on my elbows, putting my head against the side of the log, the earth shifts with me.

“Oh, fuck,” Marlowe moans, closing his eyes and then grabbing onto my hips like a man in the midst of an exorcism. His sharp, angry mouth takes me whole, lips spread over as much of my pussy as he can take. He sucks on my vulva while flicking his eyes up to mine, tongue dancing over my clit. I hump his face, and he loves it, dark eyes narrowing on me in a way that promises I’ve seen nothing from him yet.

As soon as we get this Witchwoods gate issue sorted out, the four of us need to have a long talk.

I’m already nervous for that.

I’m hopeful, too.

Because if we get to that butterfly-inducing, stomach twisting angst then it means we survived. We did this together, and we made it. Letting Marlowe suck me off is, weirdly, a step toward that end. If the men can seal the gate, they’ll be safe. Brooks can figure out how to break the curse with a spell, and he’ll have all the time he needs.

Even if it takes years.

Marlowe’s hat tickles my thighs, the brim all wrinkled and squashed. Black leather and soft skin. I sigh, wishing my hands weren’t bound with handcuffs, so I could touch his hair. Twine my fingers in it. The cuffs are loose enough for me to balance on my elbows, but that’s as far as they go.

My shadow comes to the rescue, sliding over me and reaching up to knock Lo’s hat back a few inches. She digs long fingers into that shimmery black hair for me. It flashes with rainbow color in the light, like a sheen of oil on a puddle. All of the colors are there. All of them.

With the sea behind him, and the other two men in their cardinal directions around us, I let myself relax. Another big mistake. I shouldn’t do it, but it happens anyway. I go soft for him, and he makes this sound of frustration, like he wants to mount me but knows he can’t because of the spell. He might be fucking the sand with those hip movements of his.

Marlowe cleans me out with his tongue and then sits up, leaning his head back, black witch hat silhouetted against the late afternoon sky. He cuts a perfect figure. I am absolutely, one-hundred percent in love with him at that point. He looks up, at white clouds shifting over soft blue. Sweat drops trickle down his neck.

With a slight squinting of his eyes, he takes all of the seed he just licked out of me, and he swallows it. The strong muscles in his throat work, and he wets his lips. He’s panting now as he drops his attention to me. He cleans the extra off his face with a shameful flick of his tongue.

This time, Marlowe did it. Marlowe swallowed shit he didn’t want to swallow. I feel vindicated.

“You know how big of a sacrifice that was?” he asks, cocking his head at me. “There’s no spell we can’t cast if we’re willing enough.” Marlowe covers me with his body, taking me hard and fast to orgasm with his cock. I’m so turned-on that it doesn’t take long.

So turned-on that I almost miss the knife.

It’s in his hand before I realize it, a blue gem flashing on the underside of the hilt as he lifts it between us.

My mind flashes back to the cottage and all that trauma of watching them die. I’m still half-convinced that I did die, and this is heaven, me being with them again. Seeing my friends. The world is asleep, is it? Maybe this is just the afterlife?

My teeth clamp down on the iron bit, shattering it. I split the handcuffs. I’ve got the knife in my hands now, scrambling out from under Marlowe and taking it with me at the same time.

“No!” I yell at him, and I’m in a fury. I spread my wings open to either side of me, clenching the knife and staring at the three of them with all of the rage I felt when they did not ask my opinion when it mattered most. I’m still angry with my coven, too. “Don’t you dare try to kill yourselves again.”

“We’re only going to die if you die,” Marlowe assures me, holding up his hands. His pants are halfway down his hips, and my dress is still rucked up. We both blush slightly, yanking our clothes into place even though there’s nobody around to see.

Brooks sighs and Tanner huffs a small laugh.

“Give the knife back, kitten,” he drawls. “We’re not trying to kill ourselves. We just need to shed blood in the four corners.”

“Don’t you want us to close the gate?” Brooks is huffy, as always. “Again, if you’re not interested—”

I sigh and toss the knife at Lo’s feet. Tanner leans back and crosses his arms, wolf ears swiveling in search of sound. Not that there’s anything to hunt us here, but it’s a habit one never loses—and for good reason.

“Fine.” I shift a little and yank the already too-short dress down as best I can. I hold out my arm and turn it so that my wrist is exposed. “Bleed me.”

“Would’ve been better if I were still inside of you,” Lo growls as he stalks forward and snatches my arm in tight fingers. I gasp, and he eyes me like he’s about to break and tackle me to the ground again. “I don’t know how you swallow that shit all the time. It tastes fucking horrible. ”

I open and close my mouth, but there are no words. I blush instead of answering, and my lover splits my arm from wrist to elbow. Blood pours out, but it only lasts a few seconds. I look up at him and he stares back at me with a grimace.

“Fuck, we’ll have to do that a lot, won’t we?” he asks, but not like it’s a real question. He knows he’s going to have to cut me over and over and over again. I heal quick, but I still feel pain. It’s obvious in the way I flinched when he cut me just now.

“Can any of us make me bleed or does it have to be Lo?” I ask Brooks without looking at him. I’m still studying Marlowe’s expression.

“We bled ourselves before you woke up. It took three days.” Brooks pauses, and I hear the unspoken implication. Because I can heal quick, I have to do it all right now. Damn. “But no, it doesn’t have to be Marlowe.”

I reach out for the knife, and Lo hesitates, drawing it away from me.

“You think it’s less weird for you to stab me repeatedly? I am capable of stabbing myself.” I hold out my hand and wiggle my fingers. I’m being flippant about this, but I’m serious, too. I’m going to save them all the emotional trauma, and the time. We only had a month from one new moon to the next, and I have no idea how long it’s been.

Marlowe gives over the knife, and I stare down at it. I turn it over and look at the blue gem on the bottom. It’s nothing like the navy ocean behind him, more like a Caribbean sea. Bright and light, but somehow off. It’s obvious this came from the Witchwoods.

I slit my throat with it.

The men are on me so fast that they end up covered in blood. Tanner is the one to disarm me this time, but it only takes me a few seconds to heal. My throat is sealed by the time they get me pinned to the ground under the three of them.

“What the fuck ?” Brooks asks, and then I remember that I died because the Hag Wytch … Anyway, that was messed up. I shouldn’t have done that.

“I was trying to speed the process up. I don’t know how much time I’m missing.” My voice wobbles when I say that last part, but I cover it up with a laugh and hope they don’t see how deeply I’m hurting.

The eyes on Brooks’ hat gaze at me with sympathy, but his green eyes are hard, more Southwoods than husband.

“It’s only been a week. We’ll be fine. Can you just trust that I know what I’m doing? I promise you, Kate, that I’m handling it. Do as I say, and it’ll all be fine. I promised that from the very beginning, that I’d get us through to the end of this.”

“Only with my help,” I spit back at him, forcing them off so I can sit up. I’m stronger than them now, and it’s kind of funny. The power dynamics have reversed. They will do what I say this time because I’ll make them. If necessary at any point, I can force it. I’m choosing not to.

I hold out my hand for the knife again, but Tanner doesn’t give it back.

“Promise you’ll stay with us. Do what Brooks says. I can’t handle being apart from you anymore, Katelynn. It’s breaking me.” Tanner isn’t flippant. He doesn’t smile. His lips are neutral, and his eyes reflect back the same pain that I feel in my heart.

I miss them so much. I hate being alone. It’s horrible to black out and wake up with blood on my hands, with no idea who it is that I’ve killed. My victims’ voices echo in the back of my mind, the last phrases ever uttered by the ones I ate. Since none of them knew what was coming, the phrases aren’t garbled cries.

I think they’re worse.

I’m full-on crying now. Silently. But the tears are just sliding down my face.

Tanner hits his knees in the sand, and I remember him falling beside my body. Sewing my arm back on. We’re all suffering from the same trauma.

I drop to my knees, too, but I stay where I am. Getting too close when I’ve been conscious for this long, with no protection between their necks and my teeth, I need to stay here.

“I think you need to understand,” Tanner begins, taking his hat off and putting it against his chest like he’s about to say a prayer. He looks right at me. “If we die, you’re fucked. You need your full coven to get out of this, so we’re not playing loose and easy with our lives, Kate. Keeping myself safe, keeping Marlowe and Brooks safe, it’s all equally important. If I have to make a choice, I will always prioritize you, but that’s it. Only in the most dire circumstances.”

I exhale, the sound of the waves peaceful behind me. The wind ruffles my feathers, and it’s nice and warm, a gift from Tanner. I close my eyes and sigh, releasing as much stress as I’m capable of. Tears hit the sand near my fingers as I open my lids to see all three of them on their knees and staring back.

The knife has been tossed to me.

I pick it up, and cut myself from wrist to elbow, bleeding all over my naked thighs and into the sand. I’ll keep going until one of them tells me to stop. However long it takes.

Slice. Pain. White hot. Dizzy. All good. Slice. Pain. White hot. Dizzy. All good. Then there are blips of anxiety in between each. All good. Pause. Fear. Nervousness. Slice. It’s not a pleasant process. My blood is definitely a sacrifice worthy of magic.

So is Marlowe, swallowing his own cum alongside Brooks’ cum, alongside Tanner’s.

“I take it you three have made nice with one another,” I say casually, as if I’m not shaking. Bleeding. Hurting. Crying. My hat frantically cleans my tears from my face. I can see my horned shadow lounging on the sand beside me, one hip propped up, very suggestive. She’s always very suggestive, which might say something about me.

The men don’t keep their shadows back the way they keep their bodies. They join mine and twine us together, their dark forms mounting my horned one as I flush and continue to carve myself in pursuit of sacrifice.

“You say that because I sucked down your other husbands’ jizz?” Marlowe is trying to make a joke out of it, but I can tell it bothered him, and my lips twitch. “Doesn’t matter if we made up or not. I’d do anything to save you, Kate.”

Well, shit.

“It’s less exciting to make fun of you if you talk like that,” I admit, and Tanner snorts. His hat is sitting in the sand beside him, that split gold and black hair a brilliant shimmer in the sunshine. He doesn’t look blond at all right now, but like his hair is truly spun gold. Perfect.

“You really are a faithful loverboy. Miriam is a goddamn moron.” This is Tanner saying this, not me. Marlowe whips a look over to him, but his mouth only opens. Closes. He says nothing before turning back to me.

Yep, they’ve made up.

Losing me has unified them.

I feel dizzy for a second, so I close my eyes until the sensation subsides. My pussy is still throbbing, and there’s a lot of, um, sand here, but whatever. It’s fine. I’m watching the men again, and I find that I can’t help but look at Brooks.

The urge to tell him is painful.

Screw it.

“I’ve been seeing Sharyn,” I tell him, and he blinks all of his eyes at me in rapid succession.

“How so?” Brooks remains stoic, but it’s all a farce. He wants to tuck me against him and cuddle me the way he did the night we played chess together in front of the fireplace. If he could, he’d take me home and he’d make love to me until I only cried happy tears. That’s not something we’re privileged enough to do. I keep cutting myself, sitting in a puddle of my own blood as it mixes with the sand. Sea grass rustles in the breeze behind me, and the massive limbs of the Witchwoods trees creak around us.

It’s a weird place to exist.

“She’s been showing herself to me and signing. First it was …” And I do my best to imitate the motions. The men frown and exchange looks with one another, but of course it’s Brooks who asks the questions.

“Was it like this?” he asks, showing me some hand shapes that don’t seem at all familiar. I shake my head. I try again, and he squints back. “Like this?” We go back and forth until I agree with what he’s telling me.

“Yes, that.” I take another short break, wishing Brooks would tell me to stop, that I’ve done enough. I look around for Sharyn now, but I don’t see her. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? She’s been trying to offer me warnings about when I’ll change. I need to pay more attention to whether she’s around or not. How many times have I missed her?

“ Afterward, I’ll meet you at the cemetery,” Brooks says aloud, crinkling up his face. The red eyes on his hat squinch up. “What else? You said first it was, so where’s the second thing?”

I explain my theories about Sharyn, about her giving me countdowns before I go full Hag.

“I’m sorry she’s showing herself to me and not you,” I tell Brooks honestly, but he shakes his head at me, and then he removes his hat, too. We all do, enjoying the way Tanner’s heated sea breeze rustles all of our beautiful hair.

“Sharyn was always intuitive. She can see how much I love you, and she’s trying to help me. I wouldn’t expect anything different from my sister.” He crosses his arms and looks away from me, but only for a few seconds. My fingers itch to tug on that swoop of black and red bang over his forehead.

“What happens after this?” I ask as calmly as I can, and Marlowe digs into a bag at his hip, pulling out another cockie. Damn it. It’s adorable, a frosted witch hat with a mushroom on the brim.

“The ugly designs are part of the spell,” Lo explains, tossing it at me. My shadow catches it and, at a nod from Brooks, puts it up to my lips. They’re going to drug me rather than watch me descend into chaos. I approve. “You need to eat two more.”

“If you insist,” I grump, but I’m smiling as I chew. It’s goddamn delicious. Butter and sugar. Melting in my mouth. The perfect ratio of glaze to cookie—err, cockie. “Can’t taste the semen in any of your desserts, Brooks. Truly genius.”

“I just don’t understand how it doesn’t turn into scrambled egg when it’s cooked, you know?” Marlowe says, and then he gags, reaching up to touch his throat like he’s regrettably remembering what it was like to swallow all three of them at once. “You know what happens if you blow a load in the shower, right?”

“That’s enough of that, thank you,” Brooks says coldly, giving Marlowe a shut the fuck up look.

“Huh. Are you salty because I’m done with that horrible deed, and you still have to anticipate swallowing a big, fucking mouthful of ejaculate? I would be. It was goddamn hell. Love your spells, Brooks. Really, you’re very talented.” Marlowe is only half serious. Brooks is talented. He’s also demented. Both things can be true at once.

“Stop.” Brooks is talking to me this time, holding up a hand to get me to halt the press of the knife tip against my wrist. “That’s enough.” I toss the knife back to him, and he collects it, staring back at me. “You’ll fall asleep soon, and then we’ll be in the east. We’ll do a similar ritual there, and then move north. In the south, we’ll have completed this spell so we can start on the next.”

“And what spell is this exactly?” I look at Tanner because he’s the most likely to answer me truthfully. He sighs and rubs at his upper arm, tattooed fingers sliding over that toned bicep. I want to bite it, but only for sexy reasons. I’m not trying to eat him just yet which is nice. This could be the longest period of sentience I’ve had in days.

“To turn off your hunger,” Tanner admits. “The curse won’t be broken, but you won’t want to eat us anymore. Then we can close the gate together. After that, we’ll figure out how to get rid of the Hag Wytch completely.” He’s matter-of-fact, just as no nonsense and zero argument as Brooks. Just as bossy.

I sigh and rub at my forehead.

“I should’ve known I was being tricked before I agreed. Fine. You said you needed me to close the gate, and I understand that.” I drop my hand and look back at the three of them with so much longing that I know they can feel it.

Marlowe tosses me another cookie, and my shadow catches it (but only because she’s done copulating with the boys’ shadows). It’s another penis cookie, and I sigh, shoving the whole thing in at once and chewing it in narrow-eyed defiance.

“Having you asleep is about as useful as having you as an owl,” Tanner says dryly, looking me up and down. “I don’t like it either, but at least we can stay together. If you’re not going to be conscious anyway, you might as well be dreaming.”

“How many cockies do we have?” I ask, and it’d be a hilarious question if the situation weren’t so serious.

“Just enough to get through this. They’re expensive to make.” Brooks doesn’t elaborate, but I believe him when he says that.

“You don’t want to know specifics,” Tanner tells me, trying on this cocky half-smile that doesn’t reach the blue-gray of his gorgeous eyes. He knows that I do in fact want the specifics, but he feels like there’s going to be a later when he can tell me all about it.

“Thank you,” I whisper, accepting the final cookie. Cockie. Whatever.

It’s a tree, this time. With a hole in the trunk. I stare at it for a few seconds.

“Thank you?” Marlowe repeats with a scoff, like he can’t believe I actually said that. “Don’t you dare thank us.” He scowls at me like I’m dumb. “This is the least of what people who care about each other do.”

“Yeah, Miriam is a stupid goddamn bitch,” I tell Tanner with a flick of my eyes, and then I take a bite of the last cockie, feeling my eyelids grow heavy. “By the way, I don’t think I ever told you guys that the night I went into the Witch’s Tree … that was my birthday.”

I’m laughing as I fall over on the sand, rapidly descending into another dream as I shove the last of the cookie into my mouth. Sharyn doesn’t appear this time, but I’m fortunate enough to see the men’s reactions before I pass out.

“I … assaulted you on your birthday?” Marlowe sounds like he’s choking to death. Tanner is howling with laughter.

“You got exactly what you wanted, eh, kitten?” He’s already crawling toward me as my eyes begin to close.

“In the end, she will. I can guarantee that.” Brooks’ frown is my last conscious memory.