Page 41 of Traitor Witch

Easier said than done. I have no idea what’s scared her, so I take a stab in the dark.

“You’re not scared of Val, are you?” I ask.

She turns the withering glare she gave Nos on me, and I have to admit, it’s impressive.

“Stop smelling my emotions. And for your information, no. I am not scared of your asshole Captain.”

“Then what is it?” Nos is so quiet I can barely hear him. “You can tell us.”

Nilsa scowls. “I appreciate your help, but my feelings are none of your business.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

“What freaked her out?” Nos’s harsh whisper disrupts the staring match I’m having with the wood.

I grimace. “I don’t know.”

The corner of my twin’s mouth twitches. “From what I’ve seen in my visions, our mate isn’t the type to ever admit to fearing anything. Pushing her to trust us with her feelings, even if you’re doing it with good intentions, is likely to prove counterproductive.”

My reply is cut off by the bathroom door opening once more.

Our mate stands there, framed in moonlight like a physical incarnation of the Goddess. Her robe is clean once again, her eyes glowing with light.

“I’m still tired,” she mutters. “I’d prefer to rest for a little while. I’ll speak with Valorean when I wake up.”

Nos, recognising the dismissal for what it is, climbs out of the bed with a gentle smile. “Of course.”

I’m not so easily dissuaded. “Sure you don’t need a hot shifter to keep you warm, princess?”

She bites her lip, eyes flaring with interest, but shakes her head.

Gah, Solar witches. Maybe Nos is right and Fate really does hate us.

Chapter Twelve

NILSA

I’m completely alone when I wake for the second time. The warm rays of the sun linger on the horizon, and their light reflects off the waves outside my window and straight into my face.

Ugh, I’m rising with the sun like a true Solar. Kill me now.

It’s only when I stretch out on the covers and feel smooth silk instead of plain cotton that I realise something’s wrong.

It jars me enough that I bolt upright with a gasp.

The room looks like my cabin, but it’s not. There are details that are plain wrong, like the dark silk sheets and the blurry mist which covers the walls.

“Easy,” a familiar voice cuts through the soft creaking of the ship.

“Klaus?” I grimace as I notice him sitting on the edge of the bed.

Damn, if Val had just let me finish carving those sigils this dream wouldn’t be happening, and I might have managed a few more seconds before my coven tracked me down.

Klaus looks different today. His hair, previously unruly and messy, has been forced back into a leather tie at the base of his neck and he’s wearing more clothes than before. It’s a military uniform, all gold buttons and stiff lines. But it’s not like any I’ve seen before. There’s a jacket and a cape, but the right sleeve is missing, exposing his muscles and tattoos. In place of a high collar and cuffs, he wears thick golden bands which circle his throat and wrists. A line of medals dangles from his chest, the symbols on them as strange as the tattoos.

Like before, he doesn’t wear trousers, instead he’s wearing gladiator-style pteruges, tipped in more gold. I suppose that’s so he can shift to his siren form when he needs to, but I end up just admiring the strength of his thighs.

The uniform looks good on him, but I’m not about to give my dream stalker a compliment.

“You’re a soldier?”