Page 107 of The Witch's Pet

She’s trying so hard to return to normal. Poor, sweet Hannah. Does she understand that I’ve ruined her? That she now belongs to something darker than her ordinary world can offer? Everything I awakened, everyboundary I pushed, every moment she begged for more changed her irrevocably.

I ought to feel guilty. Elizabeth would say I should. Rebecca certainly would.

But I know what she’s feeling. That struggle between what we should want and what we actually crave.

I could help her with a memory charm. I could make her forget me and all that’s happened.

But why should she be allowed to forget while I have to live with the memory of what we did?

No. I cannot let her go. This woman looked at my darkness and wanted me anyway. She saw me make enemies wherever we went, from Rebecca to Maya to Riley, and she didn’t run. She showed me pleasure I never knew possible and even brought me to surrender.

My heart beats faster as I creep through the trees, stepping close to the fence that divides her yard from the woods.

I thought once the spell broke, this obsession with her would fade. But she’s not just a feeding source, soft and supple and begging to be consumed. She fights me even as she submits. She makes me work for every surrender. And somehow, she makes me want to be more than a parasite.

At last, Hannah’s head snaps up, and our eyes meet through the glass.

Neither of us moves.

A sanguine witch’s hunger never goes away. It just finds new shapes, new desires. I still need to feed, and without the binding spell’s protection, taking from Hannah would be more dangerous than ever.

But I’ve come to crave more than her life force. I want to know what sounds she’ll make when I feed from her without a spell compelling us. I want to know what she’ll let me do to her and what she’ll do to me. I want to see how much deeper into darkness we can go together.

Abruptly, she disappears from view.

Is she going to pretend she didn’t see me? Call for help? Run?

Maybe she’s done with me now that we’re unbound. Maybe she doesn’t want the risk of feeding without the binding spell to protect her.

But then, the door opens.

She stands silhouetted in the doorway, warm light spilling around her. She’s wearing soft clothes, her hair loose, those marks I left still visible on her neck.

She doesn’t look afraid.