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Mine. All mine.

“Cerise,” he breathed, his eyes closing. His nostrils flared, and he inhaled deeply.

Shit. Could he smell my arousal?

A wrinkle formed between his brows, and his face took on a pained expression. “What—what are you doing?” His jaw went taut, the tendons on his neck standing out as if he were straining against something.

My chest was rising and falling with labored breaths. I couldn’t think. Could barely see straight. Storms, what the hell was wrong with me? “I—I—” My mouth was so dry I was unable to form any words.

In a swift movement, Alaric released my wrists, and I stumbled back several steps, still panting. That same restless energy churned through me, agitated that it hadn’t been released. I wanted to unleash it… on him.

But right now, I couldn’t tell if it was fueled by anger or lust.

Mine, he is mine, all mine. The voice within me wouldn’t stop. It became more insistent, more demanding.

Alaric was watching me in concern, all hostility gone from his face. His eyes were full of worry and a touch of fear, his brows drawn together.

All heat from earlier had vanished. Now, he looked at me like I had a deadly wound that needed to be bandaged.

I was something to be fixed. Nothing more.

He clearly hadn’t felt what I had earlier. He could tell what I’d been thinking about, and now he was staring at me like I’d gone mad.

Mad. That’s what all this was. The idea of us, romantically entangled. It was absolutely insane. He knew it, and I knew it.

It would never happen.

He would never see me in that way.

And why should he? He was utterly devastating to look at, with powerful muscles and a perfectly toned body. Whereas I was clumsy and heavyset, with no strength whatsoever. Certainly not the thin and slender type of female he would be interested in.

Besides, he clearly thought of me as an incompetent witch who couldn’t even handle a simple spell. The force of his rage-filled words slammed into me anew, and a mixture of sorrow and shame swelled in my chest.

Alaric reached out a hand as if to touch me, no doubt to see if I was all right. But I shook my head, withdrawing another step. If he touched me, I feared I would unravel completely.

“Just… don’t,” I said breathlessly. My eyes stung, and my face was on fire. Gods, I just wanted to disappear, to completely erase this moment. But that hot and desperate burning inside me refused to be satiated. It wriggled and writhed through me like a snake, twisting until I was so uncomfortable I thought I might be sick.

And the stinging ache in my chest worsened as I ran through Alaric’s words again and again in my mind.

You don’t know anything about your own kind.

You’re a mess, Cerise.

You can’t even handle a simple spell without fumbling.

You’ll be wearing those shadow cuffs again soon…

Over and over they repeated in my head until I thought I would scream. I wasn’t sure how I would get through this. The shame, the pain of it all was too much.

“Don’t touch me,” I said in a strained voice. “Don’t talk to me. I can’t—” I broke off with a ragged exhale and shook my head again.

Without another word, I strode past him, determined to put this awful moment behind me.

Twenty-Two

THE WITCH

Alaric and I remained silent the rest of our journey. I could feel his eyes on me often, but I refused to speak. We only stopped once to drink from our waterskins and munch on berries and dried leaves before continuing onward. I found myself gazing at the huge wolf tattoo inked on his back when he turned away from me. The wolf seemed to watch me, its eyes piercing my very soul.