Page 18 of Traitor Witch (The Deadwood #1)

Chapter Eighteen

RYSEN

O ur mate without her Solar robes is stunning.

It’s been four days of watching her flit around the ship, brewing her potions to fix Val’s hair and enchanting barrels to keep food fresh. Her new outfits display so much more skin, and I want to believe it’s a good thing that she’s growing beyond the constraints of her Solar lifestyle.

But she’s so fucking tempting.

Every time she’s in the same room, my eyes are magnetised to her throat. Her old robes concealed the slender column and its delicate veins. But stupid Cas bought her clothes that constantly entice, and she’s started wearing her hair up.

So I notice when the mark of my old bite disappears.

Now all I can think of is stamping my claim back on her skin.

For someone who’s spent as long as I have learning to control my bloodlust, it’s unnerving. Usually, I only have this problem around humans. Staying aboard a ship full of immortals has made my life easier, their blood holds only a fraction of the appeal thanks to the immortality which taints it. I only have to deal with the temptation when I go ashore.

But Nilsa’s blood is a thousand times richer than a human’s. A thousand times more tempting just because it’s hers.

It would be so easy to kill her. Witches are such fragile immortals, and Solars are life-worshipping pacifists at the best of times.

Would she even try to save herself if I got too rough?

Would I even notice until it was too late?

I glower at the mug of blood as my thoughts turn even darker. Memories of how fast she fled after the last time I fed on her play on repeat in my mind.

The old me would have chased her through the ship until we’d both had our fill of feeding and fucking.

The metal mug crumples in my hand. The blood spills across the deck.

Fuck.

The temptation to lick my hand is there. Those droplets are running toward the floor where they’ll be wasted.

“I’m not a savage,” I mutter, hurling the cup over the side.

I won’t go back to who I was.

I have to stop thinking about Nilsa and blood.

Goddess, I wish I’d never tasted her.

“Did the blood offend you?” Val’s words are quiet, his stance unthreatening as he steps up beside me.

I glower at him. “Now is not the night for your games, Valorean.”

“You’ve come up here to escape the witch,” he guesses. “She doesn’t come on deck, does she?”

We’ve all noticed, of course we have .

At first, I thought it was because Val’s always up here, but Nilsa won’t even come up here when Val’s haunting the galley.

She’s afraid of the ocean.

I haven’t voiced my suspicion. Partly because she’ll never admit that I’m right, but also because it will drive Cas insane if I am.

His beast wants to meet Nilsa so badly, and I’m not sure he’ll take the rejection well.

Telling Val about it won’t help matters, so I change the subject with as much subtlety as I possess.

“If I spend too long around her, I’m likely to mark her again.”

“You’re not the only one suffering,” Val mutters. “I told you we’d all be better off without her on the ship.”

I give him a healthy dose of side eye. “There must be something you don’t hate about her…”

His snort makes me certain he won’t reply, but he proves me wrong. “I’m not stupid, she’s fucking gorgeous.” I’m surprised the compliment doesn’t burn him as it leaves his lips. True to form, Val doesn’t leave it at that. “So is a snake the second before it bites you.”

I can’t honestly say that I’ve ever found snakes gorgeous, but I shrug it off. Val finds playing with explosives fun, so if he’s attracted to scaly creatures with fangs I’ll reserve judgement.

He sighs, pressing his hands into the wood of the rail as he stares moodily into the distance and continues his rant.

“You’re not blind, Ry. Her hands are calloused like ours, like a warrior’s. She moves like a fighter, she has a blade on her at all times, and she is anything but demure. Whatever the twins brought aboard is not a Solar witch. If she’s lying about that, who’s to say she hasn’t messed with our mate bonds as well? ”

“You think she’s not a witch?” Goddess, his paranoia is giving me a headache.

Our mate is a witch. Only an idiot—or a man fighting mating urges with every fibre of his being—could think otherwise.

“Mages can be pretty convincing liars.”

“Mages have transmutation circles,” I remind him. “The lack of huge, magical glowing glyphs is a pretty big giveaway that Nilsa isn’t one of them.”

His paranoia about mages isn’t unfounded. That Val’s bad history with his own kind is coming between him and Nilsa is pretty much what I expected to happen.

There’s nothing I can do about it. It’s for him to work through with her when they get to that stage.

I say ‘when’ only because Nos seems so certain that it will happen. The seer has proven himself so often in the past that now I don’t question his predictions.

“Whatever she’s hiding—if she’s hiding anything—I’m sure it’s not that,” I insist. “If she were a mage, she wouldn’t spend so much time praying and mixing herbs together.”

The scent of herbs and smoke covers her constantly now, adding a new layer to her already exotic natural perfume.

It’d be easier if those smells masked her own somehow, but no. They just make her nuanced scent more interesting.

And I smell her everywhere. Her apron drying in the sun on the deck, a lock of her hair caught on a door frame three levels down.

It’s driving me crazy with hunger and need, the lethal duo mixing with the memory of her blood and her body pressed against mine…

Shit.

So much for not thinking about it.

“No magic can mess with a mate bond. Just accept who she— ”

“I never said she’s my mate!”

I can’t put up with this.

One of my hands collars Val’s throat without my conscious permission. The ship sways dangerously beneath us as I calmly pick up the mage and carry him to the mast where I pin him in place with just that one hand. My arm is long enough that he can’t reach me and I keep him just far enough off the floor that he’s forced to balance on his toes.

I let him stew for a second, ignoring the curses that fall from his lips.

“She is your mate, Valorean. You will not disparage her in my presence. If you have issues, you will calmly discuss them with her rather than talking behind her back like a coward. Understood?”

I don’t make threats.

I don’t have to.

Val is more than aware of what I will do if he doesn’t comply.

He glares at me, his dark eyes flashing with fury. The silence which stretches between us is a battle for dominance, both of us waiting to see who blinks first.

“Enough.” Kier steps from the shadows, his glamour fading.

I begrudgingly release Val. His hands fly to his neck, rubbing away the sting.

The fae stares us both down, arms crossed over his chest.

“Have you asked her about your curse?” I ignore the admonishment in his gaze and change the subject.

“Have you asked her if she’ll let you feed from her again?” Val interrupts before Kier can answer. “Maybe you should keep your nose in your own fucking business and out of ours.”

I glower at him. “If I feed from her, I might kill her. The only thing standing between you and the other half of your soul is your pride, stubbornness, and fear. So don’t lecture me.”

I turn on my heel and storm across the deck. I make it through the hatch, and halfway to my cabin, only to crash into the woman who haunts my every thought the instant I’m below deck.

Of course, my bulk sends her flying. My hand flies out to catch her, but she recovers so fast it’s unnecessary, putting space between us that has my every cell growling.

“Sorry, Lady Solar, I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?”

She nods, the wariness leaving her eyes. “Stuck in your thoughts?”

“It seems so.” And all of my thoughts are about you .

Her soft smile makes my pulse race. “I came to ask you something.”

She reaches into the neckline of her dress and pulls out a chain with something dangling on it. Her slender fingers fumble for a second at the clasp before she hands me the still-warm metal.

It’s a ring, a rather plain one at that. I turn it over in my hands, confused. The flat face on the outside of the otherwise plain band bears the crest of a raven, staring out from within a circle.

“I need to know who the crest belongs to,” she says, twirling her hair around one finger.

But I can smell the blood. Old, dried, dead.

It’s not hard to connect the dots. “You want to find your High Priestess’s killer.” Somehow, this ring is a clue, a link to the murderer.

She doesn’t deny it. Her chin rises, daring me to make something of it.

“I don’t understand.” She’s a Solar, for all that she seems to be able to fight, taking life should be anathema to her.

She looks up and down the deserted corridor. “I need to prove my innocence. Nos said you could help me because you know the major human and vampire families.”

I’m not convinced.

This seems like a quest for vengeance and a dangerous one at that. A good male wouldn’t put his mate in the path of harm… but I don’t think I can truly deny her anything. A glance at the crest on the ring tells me I don’t have to.

“This isn’t a human or vampire insignia.” I shrug, urging her with my eyes to drop this. “Nos lied, I cannot help you.”

Her brow furrows, and I can tell she’s about to say something. She thinks better of it and moves to leave, but my hand reaches out before I can think better of it. It slams into the wood by her head. Corralling her against the wall. Caging her in a way that makes my every vampiric instinct purr.

“What is it?” My voice is lower, taking on that hypnotic quality I hate.

I see the way her pupils dilate. Part of me wonders if it’s fear or arousal even as my nose confirms it’s both. My fangs drop as the thought of dipping my head and taking her vein again overwhelms me.

Have to pull back or I’ll scare her even more.

I’m better than this.

The effort it takes to shove myself to the other side of the corridor is almost too much.

If she finds my display odd, she doesn’t say anything.

“You want to tell me something?" I try to make myself less intimidating, try to hide my fangs, but I know I’m not completely successful when her breathing hitches.

The action pushes her small, perky breasts out against the soft fabric of her dress. Goddess have mercy, the fabric is thin enough that, this close, I can see the tips of her nipples straining against it.

I want to fuck her or feed on her.

Both .

At the same time.

“There’s a storm coming.” Her words slam through me like a bucket of cold water sluicing through my bloodlust.

“What?”

“A storm… I can smell it.”

She’s not making sense, and I know it’s not just my focus on the pulse at her throat distracting me.

“You can smell storms?”

“I have weathersense,” she shrugs, as though it’s not a big deal.

I don’t know much about witches, so it could be a common thing. But surely one of the other pirates we’ve drunk with would have mentioned a gift that useful.

I’m willing to bet she’s downplaying its rarity. Either that or the witches are holding out on sailors everywhere.

She must sense my silent confusion, because she sighs, rubs the back of her neck and elaborates: “Some witches are just born with a deeper inbuilt connection to these things.” The corners of her lips turn down as though she’s unimpressed with this fact. “I’m telling you, there’s a storm coming. A big one. Headed straight at us from the southeast.”

It isn't impossible.

In fact, storms heading north from the Galmeri Strait are common in midwinter.

I’d be more surprised if we didn’t encounter a small patch of rough sea between here and Ilya Bay.

But Val would take a lot more convincing. He might refuse to listen to her out of spite.

“Come with me?”

“On deck?” She yanks her hand from mine with more strength than I’d have expected from a woman her size. “No thanks. You can tell Val. I have stuff to do.”

The sweet smell of fear blankets her, until it’s all I can smell. Protectiveness flares bright. My fangs ache to rip out the throat of whatever scares her.

I can’t kill the ocean.

But I can distract her.

I cross to her at immortal speed and sweep her into my arms before she can protest.