Fucking witches.
And fucking Ava.
Why the hell did she have to be there?
Why did her seeing me like that twist something inside my chest? Maybe she wasn’t evil, but that meant nothing. That girl was still a witch and my enemy’s daughter.
Even as I scrubbed the gore from my hands, my fire kept pulling me towards her. It was insane. I was losing myself. She was all I could think about: her smile, so damned addictive; her scent, peach with a trace of rose, invading my senses whenever she sat near me.
She spoke to me like no one else ever had. Everything about her pulled me in.
The little witch was dangerous.
And today the fates had tested me, making her see me straight after battle. The way her face fell when I told her I plannedto kill her…
What was I thinking?
I should have lied. I could never have gone through with it, not after she almost died on me. Of course, I’d planned to kill her in the past, but that was before I lost my mind.
I shoved my sore body into the shower and let the scalding water wash it all away—every life I had taken. I didn’t regret it. They deserved what they got.
Still, her face betrayed her. Ava was a princess; she wasn’t built for blood and soldiers. Too delicate for ichor and carnage. Seeing me like that would haunt her.
There was a time I wanted to invade her dreams, to make sure she never felt safe. Not anymore. We could never take it further, but I didn’t have to hurt her. Despite coming from that dishonourable kingdom, she was nothing like their queen.
Avari wasn’t evil. The thought sat heavy in my chest when I remembered how close I had come to killing her. Ava’s limp form still haunted my dreams every night. In them, she never woke. In my nightmares, I stomped her into the ground. I hadn’t slept through the night since the attack.
The girl would drive me insane.
I stepped from the shower, steam curling off my skin—and froze. A waft of arousal hit me from the other side of the door. My bedroom.
Fuck’s sake.
Frustrated beyond measure, I sighed at the sight of Emmy sprawled across my bed. Naked. Waiting.
Fucking her had always been mechanical, a way to unwind after battle. She liked it rough and let me do whatever I wanted. Quick release for pent-up aggression. Nothing else.
But lately, she’d grown clingy. I didn’t know what in my behaviour suggested I was interested, but I wasn’t. In fact, I was clear she wasn't allowed here. Yet, she persisted, as if rejection were beyond hercomprehension.
I’d give her this: she had a phenomenal body. Just looking at her used to get me hard. Our arrangement was simple. Friends with benefits. Without the friendship. But with excellent benefits.
‘What are you doing here? Put some clothes on and leave,’ I barked, not even looking at her.
Her face soured as she sat up. Persistent to the last.
‘I thought you liked me naked.’ She kneaded her breast. ‘Come. You need this.’
I scoffed. Not at her proposition, but because my own subconscious mocked me and refused her. I knew why.
A fleeting release wasn't what my body craved any more. It wanted the unattainable.
The witch had invaded my life.
She had claimed my fire.
She had taken my sanity.
Now she’d left me with permanent blue balls.
