Page 7 of Traitor Witch (The Deadwood #1)

Chapter Seven

NILSA

I n the dream I’m floating.

No. That’s not right.

I’m drowning.

I breathe in lungfuls of water. Silent screams rip from my chest as the pressure of the ocean sucks me down.

All around me, elegant riches gleam. Opulent, alien furniture, sparkling gems in gold fixtures.

It’s a rich person’s paradise, and I’m drowning in it.

Can you drown in a dream?

Panic floods me as I thrash and claw at my own throat. Begging the dream world for air.

It’s my worst nightmare. Underwater, unable to breathe, and completely alone.

A face I don’t recognise swims in front of me. Sandy blonde hair waves in the water like golden seagrass and the most piercing blue eyes—like cut sapphires—stare into me.

He’s not a man.

No .

Even in my fear-addled state, I can tell he’s not human.

There are gills at his neck, flaring with each motion he makes.

He doesn’t have legs. In their place is a powerful, grey, shark-like tail that makes me flinch backward.

Gentle hands move mine away from my neck.

Those sapphire eyes widen. His hands drift to my waist, pulling me close as he squeezes his eyes shut.

The dream spins and the pressure from the water eases. I gulp in air, falling to my knees on a pebble beach that hadn’t existed a moment ago. My ears pop. Then all I can hear is the sound of cawing gulls, crashing waves, and my own frantic heartbeat.

I cough and splutter, scrambling away from the ocean instinctively.

“Easy, easy.” His voice is soothing, rich and modulated in a way that automatically has me relaxing. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d be sirenae.”

I glare up at him, my anger not completely soothed by his honeyed voice.

Now that I’m not drowning, I can appreciate him a lot more.

The gills and shark-tail from before are gone and his torso remains completely bare except for the full sleeve of tattoos which cover his right arm. The design is intricate; strands of repeating geometric patterns form a weave which is broken up by larger symbols. Tiny lines of text in an unknown language surround each symbol.

He has others too. Slim bands of abstract trident shapes surround both his wrists, his neck and his ankles.

The darkness of the marks only showcases his golden skin. And there is a lot of golden skin. He’s only wearing a thigh-length white skirt which barely covers his ass. No shoes. No trousers .

I’m pretty sure he’s not wearing underwear either.

I’ve never seen anyone like him and that’s what convinces me that some aspect of this dream is real.

Then I look down and discover I’m still wearing what I went to sleep in, which is to say absolutely nothing.

Something the man is clearly appreciating as his eyes trace the sigil tattoos which grace my skin.

I raise a single brow and he smiles wider, clearly unapologetic.

So, naked it is then.

I try to shrug it off. At least two hundred people saw Danika and I naked when the last Lunar midsummer party went wild. What's one more?

I’m more concerned with the fact that he’s hijacking my dreams.

“Who the fuck are you, and why are you in my dream?” I demand.

Goddess, every time his smile grows he gets a little more dazzling to look at. “Niklaus Sirenae Regis—or Klaus, if you prefer—siren, at your service. Also, I think you’ll find you’re in my dream.”

I groan and flop onto my back, staring at the grey sky.

“No offence, Klaus, but I’d really like to just sleep. I’ve had a really shitty day.”

He doesn’t take the hint. No, he moves closer, coming to sit beside me with his arms wrapped around his legs.

“Want to work out some of that tension?”

I lift my head in disbelief.

He just smirks. “I’m good at massages. I’ll happily demonstrate if you give me your name.”

I still, thinking it over. Something about this dream has me oddly compliant, and I don’t trust it. Names hold a lot of power for the fae, but I have no idea if there’s any significance for sirens. He offered his without hesitation, but I stick with only giving my first name just in case.

“Nilsa.”

“And you are… human?” he guesses, offering a hand to help me turn onto my front. The pebbles in this dream world are strangely spongy but I don’t question it as I relax on them.

I snort. “Witch, but that wasn’t in the deal.”

“How remiss of me.” His hands meet the bare skin of my back and knead, the warmth and expertise in his movements have me limbless in moments.

“You’re so tense,” he murmurs.

I hum noncommittally. “You’re really good at this.”

“I had the best tutors.”

I lift my head in incredulity, “You’re a real-life massage therapist?”

His grin turns wicked. “No, all sirenae males are taught to please their women from childhood. I’m fully trained in sensual massage and the other seductive arts.”

I can really get behind the siren way of life. Then my brain catches up… “Their women?”

He doesn’t answer and I swiftly decide it isn’t worth breaking up this dream massage.

“You’re lither than most warriors I’ve met,” he notes several minutes later.

I moan as he reaches a particularly tight knot. “I’m not a warrior. I’m the Shadow of the Moon, the Goddess’s assassin.”

“Apologies, I’ve not met a witch before.”

“Well, I’ve not met a siren before.” His hands move down to the base of my spine and I sigh in pleasure. “Hey, Klaus, not that this isn’t nice, but why are you in my dream?”

“You’ve touched the sea recently, haven’t you?” he says, instead of answering .

I remember the freezing water flowing into my boots and shudder. “Not intentionally.”

“Sirens meet their mates through dreams when they touch the sea at the same time,” he explains. “My sister, Cassie, told me you were coming just this morning. I swam all day, hoping we’d meet.”

I stiffen under his hands, pulling away and into a sitting position just out of his reach. “Witches don’t have mates, Klaus. We have harems of humans.”

Klaus shrugs. “Then I will happily join your harem, if you’ll have me.”

I shake my head in confusion. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t have a harem either. My High Priestess said that the Goddess hadn’t picked one for me. I’m happier alone.”

He looks at me with large, puppyish eyes and I instantly feel like the world’s most awful bitch.

“It’s not you, okay. This just isn’t the right time. I’m wanted by two covens and trying to prove my innocence whilst faking being a Solar. I’m… I’m not good mate material.”

Klaus dismisses my words as soon as I’ve said them. “But you still have to sleep. And since you’ll be in my dreams until we mate fully, anyway, I might as well give you massages when you’re here.”

“You’re not going to convince me into mating with you with just your talented hands alone.”

His grin is quick and full of charm. “Who says my only weapon is my hands?”

I squeeze the bridge of my nose. This is not the sort of conversation I want to be having whilst naked. In fact, it’s not a conversation I want to be having, period.

“I’m going to close my eyes and go back to sleep,” I whisper to myself. “This is all just the product of stress and a year of celibacy. ”

“It’s real.” His blue eyes are so earnest, his voice so hypnotic, I want to believe him.

The feeling is so intense I have to shake my head to clear it. “I’m just…shocked. Okay? Like I said, witches don’t usually have mates and two high priestesses died today, both in front of me.”

He shifts closer, “I’m sorry. Will it help if you tell me about them?”

I consider it, then sigh. “Can I have some clothes first?” Something about being emotionally and physically vulnerable at the same time seems too intimate for two strangers.

The softness of silk caresses me and I look down to see myself wrapped in a black wraparound dress.

Before I can thank him, or say anything at all, Klaus’s head whips towards the sea.

I’m ripped from the dream so sharply that I wake with a piercing headache.

I spring upwards in bed, clutching the sheet to my front.

For a moment, with the sound of the ocean coming through the window matching the sound of the ocean in my dreams, reality blurs.

That was too real to be a dream.

I was too open with Klaus. How could I have let my guard down around a male who claimed I was his mate? This level of carelessness isn't like me.

Mates or not, I don’t trust this one bit.

I slip my clothes on and heave a cannonball from a crate. It’s still the middle of the night, and a whispered prayer to the Goddess transforms the iron into a sharp, thin chisel.

The sigils for protection, psychic privacy, and secrecy are long, intricate, and will hopefully keep any more dream visitors out. I charge them as I carve, arrowing the Goddess’s magic down the tip of the blade to infuse it into the wood .

I’ve only just finished the second sigil when an anguished yell almost makes me drop the blade.

“Witch!”

The boom, boom, boom of a fist against my door has me taking several steps back. I flick the blade up my sleeve, transforming it into a knife with another prayer before I turn the handle.

Valorean shoves past me, shirtless and dishevelled as he storms into the room. If he wasn't the most irritating asshole I’ve ever met, I might be able to admit that he’s gorgeous to look at. With his white hair rumpled and his trousers slung low on his hips, exposing lines of smooth muscle, it's all I can do not to stare.

Just woken up is a good look on him.

“What the fuck are you doing to my ship?” He draws up short when he sees the cosy adjustments I’ve made to my cabin. “What the— Where are my cannon balls?!”

Opal opens a single eye, looks at the captain, then stretches on my new sheets like she’s rubbing their existence in his face. She jumps down and purrs, winding herself between his legs.

Traitor.

At least Valorean ignores her.

“I won’t sleep in a hammock!” I retort. “You can have your balls back when I leave. Now what the hell are you raving about?”

Only then do I notice the tiny line of blood tracing its way across his pectoral. The wounds are tiny but even from this distance I can see the outline of two sigils. His immortal healing is already closing the cuts but they're definitely there.

I infused the ship with magic, not the man.

Ah shit.

Bond mage.

What happens to one happens to the other .

I really should have thought about that.

Whoopsie.

Val’s staring at me with one eyebrow raised, waiting for my reaction.

“You should count yourself lucky,” I mutter, instead of gracing him with an apology like I probably should. “I usually charge hundreds for protection sigils.”

His eyes narrow. “Stop carving sigils into my fucking ship!”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be such a baby; it’s barely a scratch.”

“You’ve gouged out my flesh!”

Opal, clearly frustrated that this male isn’t going to worship her, chooses this moment to knead her claws into his leg, punctuating his point. Valorean hisses then glares at me as if I’m somehow to blame for the actions of my familiar.

A large shadow falls over us, and we turn as one to find Rysen there, arms crossed over his chest. The vampire is massive, and he seems to only get bigger as he frowns down at both of us. He still hasn’t put on a shirt, and the steel of those tiny nipple rings seems to magnetise my gaze to his chest. He shoots one long, disapproving look at Valorean, who returns the glare, but Rysen’s eyes soften as he turns to regard me.

“Neither of the Coveton covens know that you boarded our ship. So who do you need protecting from, Little Witch?” His deep voice causes goose bumps to appear on my arms.

I shake my head because I’m not about to admit that I’m nervous about a silly dream. “No one. It’s just an old habit.”

“Lie.” The word echoes softly from the hall, and I grimace.

The fae is out there, listening in. I have no idea why he hasn’t barged into my cabin with Val and Rysen, but I hate knowing my every word is being fact checked.

“If you’re going to spy on us, you might as well come in with everyone else!” I grumble. “Heavens forbid my request for privacy be respected.”

Valorean growls and Opal gives up on him, moving straight for Rysen. The vampire picks her up, and she purrs even louder.

“Finally,” she sighs as Kier steps around the doorframe and wanders towards the window which bathes him in the moonlight.

“Who do you need protecting from?” Rysen repeats, his stony voice completely at odds with the way he’s patiently petting my familiar.

But I’m not focused on him anymore.

No, suddenly the fae is much more interesting.

The instant Kier steps into the moonlight, his already pale skin starts to glow. The Lady’s light reveals chains of Lunar sigils criss-crossing his entire body. The sigils, invisible to anyone but a witch, spell out a warning to all witches who cross his path. Around his throat, a collar of curse sigils glow bright red in contrast to the cool silver of the warnings. It’s the strongest curse I’ve ever seen, and it looks ancient.

“Who cursed you?” I whisper, unable to help myself.

Kier raises a brow.

Valorean and Rysen both shoot him a curious look.

Shit. A Solar would only be able to see them under sunlight. I’ve just given myself away.

I take a breath, waiting for the axe to fall.

The fae just shakes his head, glittering frost appearing in his hair as he moves.

Rysen and Valorean don’t say anything either.

Perhaps they don’t know?

No, the fae must know. No person can be cursed for so long and not know about the curse markings.

“Don’t try to change the subject,” Valorean warns, completely oblivious. Goddess, the man is like a dog with a bone. “Why the fuck are you carving runes into me?”

I grind my teeth together. I can’t lie and I don’t want to tell them that I think my mind is being invaded by a siren either.

“I had a dream, and it disturbed me."

Both men look to Kier who nods once.

I purse my lips and snatch Opal from Rysen. “Now, if that’s everything, I’d like to go back to bed.”

Rysen, seemingly satisfied, clasps Valorean’s upper arms, lifts, and carries him bodily out of the room. Kier follows but hesitates in the doorway. Once he’s out of the moonlight, his markings disappear, and I’m left to guess at what they might say.

I know what’s coming. I expected it from the moment he stayed silent rather than outing me. The only reason someone keeps your secrets without knowing you is to use them against you.

I meet his dark eyes evenly, steeling my spine.

“Stay truthful and I’ll keep your secret.” The words are barely a whisper, and he doesn’t give me a chance to reply before he slips from the room, the door snapping shut behind him.