Page 81 of The Witch's Pet

“You left me unconscious in the woods,” she growls.

“With my cloak for warmth.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, well, that makes it fine then. A cloak. How thoughtful.”

“I also built you a fire.”

“Do you want a medal of honor for not murdering me?”

I ball my fists. “You know exactly who I am, Miss Schmidt. Don’t act surprised.”

“Do I?” Her voice is deadly quiet. “Tell me about Charlotte.”

My throat tightens. I don’t wish to relive that memory, especially not right now. “This isn’t the time—”

“Tell me.” Her hands curl into fists too. “I want to hear it from you.”

I could lie. Spin some tale that makes me look less awful. But the ice in her eyes tells me she already knows every excruciating detail. And she deserves the truth, after what she’s witnessed.

So, I step in, summoning my magic to let her see it for herself.

Drawing on the memory is physically painful. I grit my teeth against it, my eyes stinging and my throat tightening.

I have never shown anyone what happened. The moment has only lived in my nightmares.

Hannah’s gaze drops to my glowing palms. Recognition flashes across her eyes, and she sets her jaw before stepping in to meet me.

I press my hands to her temples and show her.

22

Hannah

I’mseeingthroughJulia’seyes, a wildness in my heart, drunk on power I’m still learning to control. And beneath me, writhing on my bed, is my beautiful Charlotte.

It’s been six months of feeding on her, and I know her essence like I know my own name. I know the honey-sweet taste of her skin, the pitch of her cries when I touch her just so, the way she trembles on the edge of release, the glimmer in her eyes when she looks at me like I’m divine instead of damned.

“Please,” she gasps, arching into my touch. Her skirts are bunched around her waist, baring her pale thighs. My fingers are slick from pleasuring her, and she spreads wider for me with shameless need. Her thin blonde hair is matted with sweat, spread across the pillow like a halo.

But something is wrong with her skin today. It’s far too pale, almost translucent, blue veins visible. Her hip bones jut sharply, and I can count each rib. The hollows of her eyes are too deep, shadowed like bruises. But to acknowledge it would mean stopping these blissful feedings.

Her pulse stutters beneath my lips as I kiss her throat. A warning whispers in the back of my mind.Something is different today. Something is wrong.

But her essence calls to me like a siren song, and I silence the doubt.

“I love you,” she whispers, and her total devotion makes my magic surge with possessive hunger. “Take all of me. I am completely yours.”

The words ignite something ravenous in me.Mine. Yes. All mine.

My fingers darken as I begin the incantation, my other hand still between her legs, my thumb circling that sensitive pearl while two fingers curl inside her. Her back arches, a moan escaping as her body grows weaker. She tangles her skeletal fingers in my hair, holding me close. “Yes! Oh God, Julia—”

More. I need more.

The magic and the pleasure build, feeding each other. I whisper the words against her lips, drinking her gasps, and my fingers move faster, deeper. She clenches around me, close to the edge, her essence rising like a tide.

“Give me everything you have,” I command, my voice rough with desire.

Dark tendrils snake from my fingers, wrapping around her. She shivers beneath me, release crashing through her as I pull her life force from her mind and body. The sensations rip a cry from her throat.