Page 63 of Traitor Witch

I drag a comb through my still-wet hair and slip on a pair of plain canvas shoes that make me grimace.

As soon as I get my hands on some more money, I’m going to buy myself some boots. Screw that, I’m going to transform the shoes into a decent pair of heels the instant I’m allowed to use magic again.

"I'm ready."

Nos frowns. "You're unhappy."

"I don't like being unable to use magic because of these stupid sigils," I retort. "The last time I was inked I was a nightmare to deal with. I almost didn't make it the full twenty-four hours." Glenna had almost resorted to locking me in my room to keep me from doing anything I wasn't supposed to.

"I thought Solars were supposed to be patient?"

I freeze, realising what I’ve unintentionally given away. "Yes, well, there's an exception to every rule."

Nos doesn't have an answer for that. "So, what did you want to do?"

"Eat," I reply, honestly. "It's been forever since I last ate something. After that... Well, what is there to do on this ship? Where's Val taking us next, anyway?"

I head out of the door, only to find Kier still leaning against the opposite wall. I pause for a second, our eyes meeting before I drop my gaze. I don’t acknowledge him because I’m still annoyed at his meddling, but Kier follows us anyway as I start towards the galley.

Nos just ignores him and keeps talking. "We were headed for Ilya Bay before we found you, I imagine Val wants to—”

There’s a muffled ‘oomph’ of pain, and when I look back, it’s to find Nos has walked face first into a door which wasn’t open before. I watch the door swing closed again of its own accord and scowl at Val’s underhanded tactics.

“Sorry, Captain,” Nos mutters, rubbing his face. “Val has some stuff he needs to get done. The city of Ilyani has a small witch presence; maybe you can find a broom there.”

I shake my head. “They won’t help me. An exile is an exile, and I’m from a different coven.” I grimace. “I was from a different coven.”

I push through the door to the galley, only to stop dead in my tracks.

Cas is already here, half-hidden by the abundance of food that litters the room. Barrels and crates of fresh vegetables stacked on top of one another fill almost all the space. Only a thin path of clear floor remains.

It’s the stark opposite of the salted pork and oats that were here when I first came aboard.

Then I catch sight of the table and nearly cry.

Planters filled with herbs are crammed onto the groaning wooden surface. Sage, lavender, basil… all the common herbs a witch might need. There are only a dozen or so, and they've stayed away from the more toxic plants, but I can work around that. In the corner, a cauldron sits empty, waiting for a witch to use it.

The shifter is busy sorting some of the food into the overhead cupboards, but I tackle him in my enthusiasm. Drawing him into a huge hug that knocks the wind out of both of us.

Cas goes very still. His whole body tenses. A strange, whirring growl echoes from his chest.

I let go, cursing myself. What the hell came over me? “I’m sor—”

The shifter whirls and drags me back into his arms. “Don’t apologise.”

Goddess, the warmth of him is like nothing I’ve ever felt. Temptation incarnate to a Lunar missing the casual intimacies of a coven. I want to stay forever, but I know it’s hardly appropriate for two people who’ve only known each other a couple of days. He doesn’t let me go, and that strange rumble in his chest starts all over again.

I push lightly against his arms to no avail.

“Cas,” I smirk against his chest. “I’m grateful, but you have to let me go.”

It’s definitely a growl that greets my words, the displeasure in the sound nothing human.

Shit.

“Nilsa,” Nos sounds cautious. “What are you doing? Describe what’s happening.”

“I hugged him… and he doesn’t want to let go.”