Page 22 of The Arcane Taste of the Witchwood Boys (The Witchwood Boys #4)

Brooks

I rip one of the piercings off my cock. A new one. One that I made with metal from the blades that we used to kill ourselves. Kate’s clit piercing is the last of that wretched material. As she cries out in surprise, I pierce her clitoris and slide the metal loop through the hole, closing the jewelry so that it’ll stay in place.

This spell is complete when I orgasm, so you best believe that I’m getting this done quick. Orgasm and then lick and swallow. Lick and swallow.

I grab my red-stained cock and shove that weeping crown into Kate’s messy pussy, slamming into her twice and causing her tits to bounce before I let my body unravel like a virgin in the drive-in movie theater on a hot Friday night.

Kate is crying softly now, but she isn’t trying to eat me.

I take her wrists and lean forward, pinning her underneath me with her legs prone around me. Our eyes meet, and she holds my gaze like it’s nothing, trembling, lip pouty, bloody and adorable and alive.

“I … I could really use some rubbing alcohol and a slice of pumpkin bread.” She sniffles, and I feel a slow, cool smile stretch over my lips. My love. My reason. My necessity. The mother of my invention. “With chocolate chips.”

“And so you shall have it.” I drop between her thighs, putting my mouth to that perfect pussy and devouring the blood and cum of my coven. Completing the spell. Finishing it. Fucking finally. Finally. Finally. I raise up enough to catch Kate’s hazel eyes again, and then I swallow.

Shamelessly.

This is my responsibility, and I’ll take my punishment like a man.

I sit up on my knees and take Kate with me, crushing her in my arms and burying my face in the side of her neck. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry it took us so long.”

Marlowe and Tanner are right there with us. My coven. My whole, complete coven.

Not my sin at all, but the entirety of my salvation. A divine, unholy blessing.

We hold Kate between us without complaint. Without jealousy or animosity.

With nothing but love.

My wife is draped in a silk robe, nibbling on a slice of fresh sweet-spiced pumpkin bread as she looks back at her friends. They have the other three chairs, arranged on the far side of the kitchen table. Talia is seated on the counter opposite Marlowe, playing with the metal mask he gave her in the Witchwoods.

I don’t want to be in here with these people. I want to be alone with my coven. But there’s an order to everything. Blood orgy. Pumpkin bread. Strategy. Peace and joy. Sweet, blessed sleep.

“How long until you’re convinced our spell actually worked?” Tanner murmurs, eating his own slice of bread and standing on my right. I’m facing away from Kate, but all of my hat-eyes are on her. I gave her two pumps of my hips. Two. I’m ashamed of myself, but it needed to be done. It was practical.

My shadow’s antlers are crooked on the wall, attached to a head that won’t sit right on its broken neck. I slice a piece of pumpkin bread for myself and then set the knife aside, turning around to watch Kate’s interaction with her friends.

If they make her happy, then I’m happy, too.

“It’s only temporary, this spell,” I remind him. “Eventually, Kate’ll get hungry again. We need to truly break the curse.” I put my hand up to my hat brim and push it up and out of my eyes for a better view. I’m whispering, but I doubt the women would notice me if I were yelling.

“You agreed to be an immortal, lonely, people-eating owl god for …” Georgia looks at Marlowe first, and he scowls at her. She looks at Tanner. At me. We stare at one another, and I know what she thinks. I’d be thinking the same thing if I were her: do better. “Them.”

“They’re my coven,” Kate says, blushing but lifting her chin, too. “You’d do the same for the women.”

“My coven doesn’t stalk me. We have appropriate boundaries.” Georgia looks Kate over, squinting at the swirl of orange and black hair that’s gotten wrapped around one of Kate’s shadow horns. She’s wearing them like a headband. “But what’s done is done. Alright, you’re not going to swallow our souls, so how do we fix this gate? When do we fix this gate?”

“We’ll need some time to recover. If this is going to work, it’ll have to be a moonless night.” I step toward the table, laying the slice of pumpkin bread in my hand on Kate’s plate. Her cheeks flush and she picks it up to eat while my heart expands to fill my entire chest.

I can’t breathe, and I’m biting my tongue. I want to spit into Kate’s mouth and hope the memory she sees is how I feel right this very second. Her hat’s mouth spins around the cone to face me and then opens up, the triangular tip of the hat falling back and revealing a circle of teeth underneath. That’s where the tongue comes from, tasting me and then smacking its lips.

Kate goes still as she savors my emotions, but only for a few seconds. She starts eating her bread again as Marlowe finishes off the second loaf all by himself. I can’t blame him. I’m starving, too. That was not an easy set of spells. Four separate ones to make a giant spell circle.

But it worked.

It worked, and Kate isn’t speaking in the tongues of the dead. She isn’t shapeshifting. Most importantly, she isn’t running.

“That gives us … two days?” Georgia clarifies, turning to me again. I nod, and the room goes quiet. The whole world is quiet. A bit of blood drips through the floorboards above our heads, splatting on the surface of the table. Must’ve leaked down two full floors to get here.

“We need to patch that roof,” Marlowe murmurs, and then he hops off the counter. Tanner steps closer to the table, the three of us surrounding Kate with our broken half-dead shadows behind us. Marlowe’s has holes in its wings. Mine has a broken neck. Tanner’s is holding its own decapitated head.

“Excuse us, please. We need to have a very long, very private discussion.” I heft Kate up from the chair with my hands under her armpits, and she gasps in mock outrage. She snatches the rest of the pumpkin bread on her way past the stove, and Tanner retrieves the milk from the fridge.

“It’s that come to Jesus moment, isn’t it?” she whispers as I use a hand on the back of her neck to get her upstairs.

“Oh, yes,” I reply, and then we retreat to the bedroom and lock the door.