Page 54 of The Witch's Pet

I should back away. Keep this distance between us.Anythingbut stand here waiting for her like prey that’s already accepted its fate.

But I’m tired of protecting myself behind walls that only leave me more alone. I was determined never to be vulnerable again after Riley left, and where did that get me? Bound to an ancient witch by magic I don’t understand, caught between a woman who lied to protect me and one who might kill me.

I have to surrender.

There are probably several ways to interpret the word, but only one keeps circling my mind like a moth to flame.

If that’s what it takes to be free, then I’ll do it. It’s the only way I can be free of magic, free from Julia, free to return to my safe, ordinary world where monsters don’t exist and ancient witches don’t kiss you like they’re trying to steal your soul.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

But the truth pulses hot beneath the lie: I want this. I want her hands on me, her mouth claiming mine, the intimacy of giving her everything under the full moon. Freedom is the excuse I’m using to justify doing what I’ve wanted since she first touched me. Maybe I’m surrendering to break the spell, or maybe I’m surrendering because some reckless part of me wants to be hers, even if it’s just for tonight.

When Julia emerges from the shadows between trees, moving with that effortless grace that makes my pulse skip, I don’t back away or tell her to leave. I’ve been running from the truth all night. The binding spell might have brought us together, but this ache low in my belly and the way my heart races when she looks at me is all me.

So, I’ll surrender. This is how I take control over an uncontrollable situation, and if I stop lying to myself, this is what I want more than anything.

16

Julia

Icouldhavestayedinthe house and let Hannah have a moment with the girl who broke her heart. But the thought of her out here without me, hurting, choosing someone else, is unbearable. She’s mine to protect, mine to hurt, mine to heal until this spell breaks. And I do not share.

I stalk through the dark forest, following the pull of the binding spell toward Hannah. The October wind moans through the skeletal branches above, carrying the scent of decay and damp earth as winter approaches.

Rebecca thinks she’s won. The smug satisfaction radiating from her in the parlor, not to mention the way she savored every detail of my helplessness, all confirms what I already knew: she believes her binding spell has defanged me.

She’s going to learn a hard lesson in how wrong she is.

As soon as I figure out how to break this pathetic leash, she will find out what happens to those who try to cage me. A century of planning, and she made one fatal miscalculation: she assumed I would grow soft in my imprisonment. She thought guilt over Charlotte would dim my capacity for vengeance.

If anything, this injustice has honed my edges to razor sharpness.

Riley stalks toward me in the other direction. I flex my fingers, rage boiling in my veins. What does she think she’s doing? Hannah isn’t hers anymore.

I grab her arm as we pass, and she shoots me a glare, her breath catching.

“Did you touch her?”

She goes rigid. “That’s none of your—”

“Did—you—touch—her?” I ask again, each word sharp.

Riley lifts her chin. “What if I did?”

“You don’t deserve her,” I growl. “And if youeverhurt her again, you’ll learn why your ancestor trapped me for a century.”

She rips her arm away. “Of the two of us, I’m not the one Hannah has to worry about.”

My skin prickles as she walks back to the house. I should have come out here sooner.

I keep going and find Hannah standing in front of the silhouette of an ancient oak tree, barely visible in its shadow. The full moon has cast everything in silver and black. Her bright hair is loose around her shoulders, and the whites of her eyes gleam. Her breath mists, and she’s shivering, her tight clothes offering no warmth at all. She looks like a woodland sprite, beautiful and fragile and utterly out of place.

“I didn’t come all the way to Elizabeth’s for you to freeze to death,” I say as I walk closer. “Come inside and we can figure this out.”

“Figure outwhat? We know what we need to do. Rebecca told us.”

“Elizabeth is consulting the grimoire.” My voice is flat and defeated. A heaviness settles over me, as if being alone in the woods with her has finally given me permission to feel how hopeless this all is.