Page 29 of The Unbound Witch

She flew toward me, the anger on her face clear as she passed. But she’d gone all the same.

Inch by glorious inch, I lowered myself into the steaming hot water, each muscle relaxing, the wounds only stinging a little as I let the water heal my soul. Birds sang a melody of whimsical songs in the forest below, the fresh air a reprieve from the cottage that felt too small. The contrast of the cold temperature above the water and the searing below distracted my mind enough to close my eyes and let the world fall away, if only for a few moments. There were no shifters, no kings, no witches. Just this single escape from everything.

“Get out.”

I jerked, covering myself with my arms as I spun to see Bastian staring down at me, his face red, his breaths measured, fists tight at his sides.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your wounds have worsened, and you’ve said nothing.”

“Can you please flip back to Grey? I think he’s a lot nicer than you are.” I dragged my hands through the water, letting the steam billow around me.

With little more than a thought from Bastian, Grey stood before me, his green eyes blazing as he glared. “Get the fuck out of the water, Raven. Or I’m coming in after you.”

“As Grey or Bastian? Because I’m not sure which I would prefer. I’m honestly shocked I didn’t realize who you were sooner. You both have that single vein that pops out on your forehead when you’re pissed. Did you know?”

I was pushing, and I knew it. It wasn’t like me, but as always, something in Bastian coaxed the anger out as heavily as all the other emotions I’d kept in check my whole life. Apparently, though it felt like everything had changed, nothing had.

“I haven’t seen that fire from you in days,” he said, turning back into Bastian as he stepped out of a boot. “It’s good to see you’re still in there somewhere, Miss Moonstone.” He pushed out of his other boot, and I swam backward, my body relaxed for the first time since we’d arrived.

There was no denying my immediate attraction to the man that had taught me pleasure in a way I’d never known. As he peeled the black shirt over his head, silver eyes locked on mine, I could hear his voice that first night.

You will look at me when I speak to you, unless I've ordered otherwise.

I melted at the memory. Testing him, I held his gaze, inching backward again. Every groove of his firm chest, a reminder of where my tongue had once been.

“Am I your enemy?” he asked, unfastening his pants.

I didn’t answer, moving further back until I was nearly halfway across the small spring.

He flicked his fingers over another brass button, the dare in his gaze sparking everything I’d silenced between us.

“Answer,” he commanded.

I could not help the parting of my lips, the wave of desire as my mouth dried. “No.”

“Good.”

His pants dropped to his ankles. He stood before me, naked, daring me to tell him to stop as he dipped into the water. My eyes plunged below his waist and the dark chuckle that left him sent a shiver down my spine as desire pooled within my belly and between my legs. In one fell swoop, he lunged beneath the surface, disappearing into the darkness of the water and the steam above it. I twirled, searching for him, as a moment passed and he did not resurface. Just as I considered diving underneath, fingers I would know in my sleep swept up the side of my thighs. He emerged from the water inches in front of me, droplets falling down his long lashes.

“I’ve missed you,” I said, moving my fingers into his hair, unable to help my own honesty. “I hate you, but I’ve missed you.”

He grabbed the sides of my face, pulling me closer still until he could rest his forehead on mine. “I would change it all if I could. I just needed to know.”

“I think you’ve always known who I am, Bastian.”

“You could have been a million things. And every time I let myself believe that you were truly who you’d shown yourself to be, my mind would rebel. Because how could you be so perfect in the midst of all this chaos? How could you want me? How could I deserve you?” His hands gripped my waist, and I didn’t not stop him as he lifted me.

Wrapping my legs around him, I pushed the dripping water from his brow. “I would have understood.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I will say it a thousand times if you need me to.”

He brushed his lips across mine, an apology, a promise, a reprieve. I leaned forward, needing more. Part or all of him, I wasn’t sure. For countless hours, I’d wished for him to kiss me one more time. To hold me and fill me until we were one. Until I didn’t know where he ended and I began and nothing but he and I mattered. He was here now, his hands like fire on my skin, hotter than the sweltering water. And I didn’t have it in me to push him away. If only to save my heart from loneliness.

The wounds on my thighs ached, but I ignored them as I had been doing, not concerned with my physical being so much as my mental state that had teetered back and forth for hours, days.

Mouths and lips and tongues and teeth, we were frantic, pushing and pulling as the dam of tension between us broke. I could have taken him within me and stayed there forever wrapped in his arms, a world away from everything wrong in our lives, but he stopped. Pushing me away, though he kept his hands on me, his breathing ragged.