THE WITCH'S CONSORT (The First Witch Book 2) Page 4

  With a nod, Einarr walked off.

  “Freyja,” Ares softened his voice. “I need to get to the bottom of this so I can better protect you.”

  I hadn’t wanted his trust, so why did I feel hurt and mad that he doubted me? On the other hand, I’d never been honest with him.

  My jaw clenched.

  “From now on,” Ares said, “you’ll never leave my side. You’ll be my shadow. I move, you move behind me.”

  “The Angels have marked me,” I said. “You and your men will be better off leaving me here. No mortal army can stand the Angel horde.”

  “We defeated them two decades ago,” Ares said. “We drove them away from Earth.”

  “This time, it will be different,” I said. “You have no allies. The Fey Empress and her consort won’t come out of their realm. The Dark Lord’s Angels want only me. I don’t want to put you and your men on the line. You don’t need to stick your neck out for me to keep me alive. You’ll have other means to find your witch.”

  “I’ve decided,” he said. “You’ll stay with me.”

  “I can lead the Angels to your precious witch,” I said. “Would you rather I endanger her?”

  “It won’t come to that,” he said.

  “How do you know, Ares?” I asked incredulously. “You’re risking everyone.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” he said. “My instinct says I need to keep you safe at all cost.”

  “What if I’ll be safer without you around me?” I asked.

  “Right. The moment you left me, you got three warrior Angels on your hot ass,” he said.

  “It was actually cold,” I said.

  Something dark flashed through his eyes. I knew the scene of a naked me perching on top of a screaming Angel had flooded back to him again. I hadn’t come up with a plausible explanation for that, and I had no energy for another round of interrogation.

  “I’m tired,” I said, heading toward a tent that I wanted to claim as mine. “Call me when dinner is ready.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Death Touch

  It was too late to withdraw when I realized that the tent belonged to Ares. I should have entered one of the other two tents, but this one was nicer. Since I was the only woman in the group, shouldn’t I take the best and have Ares share with his men? It was a logical choice. But throughout the trip, Ares had always shared a room or a suite with me, though not the bed.

  I’d figure it out later. Right now, I needed to stay out of Ares’ sight, so he wouldn’t chase me with more questions. I also needed to relax my muscles after the long ride.

  I threw myself onto the bedroll, my feet crossed at the ankles and my hands behind my head, musing on my next move.

  “Freyja!” Ares shouted outside the tent. “Come out. I have a question.”

  That didn’t sound benign. I turned my back to the tent entrance and squeezed shut my eyes to pretend to be asleep.

  A few seconds later, footsteps stomped in.

  I let my chest rise and fall naturally, slowing my breath until it was even and deep.

  Warm breath brushed over my face, pure male scent floated to my nostrils, and electric current charged around me.

  “Stop pretending,” Ares said through his gritted teeth.

  I fluttered open my eyes and gave him a bewildered look. “Did I enter the wrong tent?” I said with a yawn. “I’ll go to the other one then.”

  “You stay here,” he said. “But you’ll answer my questions truthfully.”

  “Why must I answer so many questions?” I asked. “Who assigned you to be my interrogator?”

  “You, when you attempted to murder me on several occasions,” he said mercilessly. All his former tenderness and warmth vanished into the ether.

  I stiffened and rose to a sitting position, staring blankly at him.

  He’d been brooding when he didn’t need to concern himself with my safety and wound. He’d connected some of the dots. I could almost see those dark images flash back and forth in his steely eyes.

  The platinum-haired Angel I’d killed had died the same way as the Dragonian and two humans—they all had gray, cracked skin, they all screamed in agony, and they all had trails of smoke burning out of their empty eye sockets.

  “How did you kill them, Freyja?” Ares asked.

  He already knew. He just wanted me to confess.

  “They didn’t like my touch,” I said, my eyes turning as cold and hard as his.

  “Your touch is death,” he said, drawing a sharp breath. “That’s why you wear gloves all the time.”

  “Every inch of my skin is lethal,” I said. “Not just my hands.”

  He stared at me, darker storm brewing inside.

  “The night we were in Merlin’s cabin,” he said, “you touched me without knowing I was immune. You wanted me dead.”

  “I didn’t touch you. You gripped my ankle while I tried to get away. I didn’t expect you to feign sleep and grab me.”

  “On several occasions, you marched toward me as you pulled off your gloves with a cold, killing look in your eyes. You would have laid your bare hand on me the first time if Ventus hadn’t jumped in front of me to stop you.”

  That felt like a century ago, and he still remembered that?

  “You threatened me,” I said, forcing down my guilt, though it kept coming up. “You took me away from my home and my pack. I thought you were going to kill me. I was trying to protect myself.”

  I stood up, and he mirrored my movement, towering over me.

  I inched toward the tent flap, but he blocked it.

  “You said you wanted a bath, and then you stripped yourself bare, just like you did with the Angels. You planned to take our lives. If we got into the water with you at that time, you’d have finished us all.”

  “That was circumstantial,” I said, then at his deadly look, I added, “I’m glad no one jumped into the lake. That was a test on your characters, and you all turned out to be better men than I thought.”

  He wasn’t touched by my flattery.

  “You meant to slay me. Earth! How could you?” Rage, grief, disbelief and something else exploded in his eyes like a chaotic kaleidoscope.

  “I said it was circumstantial.” I didn’t like to be backed to the corner. “What do you want me to say? Sorry? Would it help? ”

  “You still have no remorse?” he shouted. “Do you even have a conscience?”

  I pondered his question for a second. I might not have a conscience. I wasn’t keen on handling heavy feelings. Guilt could eat at your insides if you let them. Perhaps I was just like my father—a true monster.

  “You’re still here, right?” I said sheepishly. “As are your men. No harm has been done.” I waved my gloved hand at him. “See, I still wear the gloves to protect your men. It’s very uncomfortable to wear them all the time, you know.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t happened to be immune to your death touch!”

  My eyes sparked. That was a new direction we should take. Instead of chasing me and beating me down with my shame and guilt, we should discuss the magical or scientific aspect of his exceptional immunity. At least that way, we could both gain knowledge.

  “How?” I asked. “How can you neutralize my touch? Do you think it has anything to do with your enhanced genetic makeup? Isn’t it amazing?”

  His rage didn’t recede, nor was he distracted. He advanced toward me with single-minded menace. I backed toward the other end of the tent since his massive form blocked the only entrance and exit.

  “You’re a cold, premeditated murderer,” he said. “You tried to kill me while I was sleeping and in cold blood. Earth, you’d have wiped me out that night, and I thought you were hot for me.”

  “Shush!” I said. “You don’t want others to hear that.”

  The crimson ring in his eyes expanded.

  “I almost fell for you,” he continued. “I even debated giving up the hunting for the witch and taking you back to Atlantis. I thought o
f giving us a chance. I almost abandoned all of my dreams and ambitions for you, for a cold-hearted bitch!”

  He drew an angelblade strapped on his back.

  The blood drained from my face and my heart picked up its rhythm.

  I’d backed to the end of the tent.

  I threw a hand out before me, hoping my black fire would come out and push him back.

  “Is that all you got, wolf girl?” Ares asked, his voice so cold it sent chills down my spine.

  Then it dawned on me that dying a swift death today would be better than a slow, agonizing one in two years.

  I had nothing to lose. The only thing that plagued me was that I wouldn’t get to say goodbye to my pack. But perhaps it was best this way. I wouldn’t want to hear their mournful howls.

  I pressed my hands against the canvas tent. “Kill me,” I said, “if that makes you feel better.”

  I threw my head back and howled one last time, saying farewell to my pack.

  A huge head propelled through the flap, almost bringing down the tent.

  “Your Highness,” Ventus said, “you don’t want to do this. If you kill her, you’ll regret it forever!”

  “What?” Ares snarled.

  “Freyja has her flaws, as you said,” Ventus said. “But she isn’t a trained warrior.”

  “This has nothing to do with her training,” Ares shouted, the veins on his temples pulsing. “She planned to assassinate me when all I’ve ever done was defend her.”

  That wasn’t at all how it seemed. Even when I’d considered giving him a taste of my fatal touch, I hadn’t really acted on it, or even had had the chance to do it. In the end, he was immune. So what was there to complain about?

  Hadn’t he said we should move on instead of holding a grudge?

  But under the circumstances, I decided not to talk back to enrage him further. I morphed my face into a sad, meek look instead of my usual defiant one, as if I was also sick with myself.

  Ares shot me another furious glance. He didn’t seem to buy it.

  “I won’t let you harm Freyja,” Ventus said. He brushed Ares away from me, positioning his head between us. Part of the tent was twisted by his effort. “You’ll have to get through me to get to her.”

  My heart warmed. I didn’t expect the guardian to show me such loyalty and defend me against his own fearsome master.

  “Harm her?” Ares roared. “You think I’ll kill her?” But he dropped his gaze and stared at the angelblade in his hand that Ventus and I eyed nervously.

  “I drew out the sword for her convenience,” Ares said. “I was about to hand it over to her so she could stab it into my heart. She might prefer to stick it in my eye as she did to others—her favorite sport!”

  I wanted to say that they were my enemies, but he wasn’t. And he was—

  My heart ached.

  Ares looked at us with disgust. “Although she attempted to slaughter me, I can’t harm her. I can never harm her. I can never lay a finger on her.”

  He swung his sword and hacked at the tent.

  “Ares,” Ventus pleaded. “Calm down.”

  “Would you be calm if you were the one she’d tried to kill?” Ares shouted.

  There’s a tree outside, Ventus, I said in the guardian’s mind. Advise him to cut it instead of the tent. We can use the branches for campfire.

  Ventus focused on Ares, but he spoke to me, That will make him madder. Just don’t say a word. Let me handle this.

  The way the guardian handled it was to let Ares slash at the tent frenetically. The side near Ares was now sliced open. If he kept at it, soon the whole tent would be a pile of shreds.

  The camp became still and quiet. No one dared to take a peek, preferring to stay away from the crazed prince.

  I restrained myself from covering my head with my hands in case the tent fell. While Ares assaulted the tent, he kept an eye on me. A tiny movement from me would set him off worse than it already had.

  “Let’s destroy the damned tree!” Ventus bellowed, baring his fangs at the tree outside the opening torn by the prince.

  Ares leapt up toward the tree, his sword chopping at the branches in rage. Twigs fell like hail under his vicious attack.

  To encourage his master, Ventus dragged his head out of the flap and bit into the tree trunk.

  I debated if I should sneak out of the tent or join them in mangling the tree in an effort to form a new bond. But Ventus sent me a quick, warning glance, so I cowered in the corner.

  “Did you see how the Angel died, Ventus?” Ares fumed again as twigs and leaves fell around him. “She intended the same for me.”

  “I never really wanted you dead, even when you were so mean to me,” I said, jogging toward him. “Aren’t you still here, showing off your mighty strength?”

  Freyja, this isn’t the time to be mouthy, Ventus admonished. Go back to the tent and try to hide from his sight.

  No, I said. I won’t hide. If I stay silent, he’ll keep beating me down.

  Ares wheeled toward me, the ring of crimson in his eyes turning darker. Maybe I shouldn’t have opened my mouth, but it was too late, so I held my ground and chinned up.

  “A moment ago I thought you finally felt some remorse,” he gritted. “But you have none. What kind of person are you? How could I even be drawn to someone like you?”

  I blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.

  “Someone like me?” I spat. “How can I be worse than anyone else? We live in a violent time. People kill for sport. Bad men kill for nothing. You have no idea what they tried to do to me and how they tried to hurt me.”

  “Who are they?” he snarled, stabbing his sword into the tree. “Anyone still alive?”

  “I was only trying to defend myself,” I said. “But what about you, Prince Ares Darken, the great warlord? How many died at your hands in the wars? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Don’t piss on me for my efforts at preserving myself. I don’t need your lecture on fucking virtues, guilt, or discipline.”

  Ares glared at me incredulously before narrowing his eyes. “So you regret that you couldn’t end me with your death touch? Is that it? Are you thinking of another way to kill me? Like slashing my throat with your sharp angelblade next time I sleep?”

  Where did he come up with all the twisted theories? I understood he wasn’t exactly reasonable in his fit of rage, but—

  “I won’t harm you if you don’t hurt me,” I said.

  “When did I ever hurt you?” he asked.

  While I tried to search for a few examples, he shook his head with cold contempt. “That’s it. I’m done,” he said. “I can’t even look at you right now. The mere sight of you aggravates me, and your voice makes my stomach churn. I need to get away from you.”

  He pulled his sword out of the tree trunk and broke into a run, away from me.

  In a flash, he was gone.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Panther

  I hunched over the campfire, alone. It was freezing, and I had nowhere to go.

  Boomer and Jericko gathered around a bigger campfire to stay away from me. While Ares had shouted at me without discretion, his men had learned about my death touch.

  Caen, the silent Dragonian, wasn’t in sight this time.

  The Dragonian warriors looked at me as if I were a plague. And not just that. Whenever they glanced in my direction, they had that kind of murderous light in their eyes and their hands voluntarily went to the hilt of their swords.

  “If Ares hadn’t stopped us and we’d gotten into the lake with her that day,” Jericko said, “we’d all be cracked pots now.”

  “I thought she was wild when she stripped bare,” Boomer said. “Never thought the wench was planning our horrific death.”

  I tried not to hear them and stayed as far away from them as possible. If the guardians weren’t around, the bunch would come for my blood.

  Einarr was gone, too. Hopefully he’d gone hunting. I wondered if they’d let me have dinner tonight.
/>
  Bored and worried, I tried to focus on my next steps.

  With so many people having learned about my touch—which was very unfortunate—my skin was no longer my weapon. For the first time, I felt defenseless.

  I thought of the dark fire slithering on my skin when I became extremely upset, but I had no idea how to conjure it up and turn it into my new weapon. Merlin had said that I would need to own my heritage, embrace my dark side, and claim my monster if I wanted to become a full-fledged First Witch. Only then could my Angel power be at my disposal.

  Maybe I should let the monster out? People already thought I was one. Ares had called me worse. Two monsters together would be stronger than one.

  I closed my eyes and withdrew into myself.

  I skated on the ice lake toward the spot where I usually checked on my monster.

  Shapeless darkness swirled under the ice.

  I stared down through the layers of ice, and the darkness transformed into a beast with my face and stared right back at me. I yelped.

  I used to call the beast ‘he’ to distance myself from it, and now it proved to be a she.

  She’d heard my pulses, my heartbeats, and my call.

  She’d come to meet me, with the thick ice between us.

  She didn’t pound on the ice and scream for me to let her out this time. She just looked at me, her crimson eyes half-mad.

  I jerked my face away from her, away from my distorted self.

  Just like Ares couldn’t stand looking at me, I couldn’t look her in the eyes.

  I fled, my mind returning to my surroundings.

  Vast wings flapped overhead and blocked the weak sunlight above. I was grateful and relieved that they weren’t the Angels’ wings.

  Mettalum and Lucas had returned from their scout.

  As soon as he landed, Lucas strolled toward me with a smile.

  Surrounding by hostility, that sunny smile meant summer to me. I waved and beamed back, welcoming him to join me.

  Boomer jogged toward Lucas, and my heart sank. The Dragonian cut in in front of Lucas halfway. “I wouldn’t go near her if I were you, shifter.”