Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Her voice broke the silence. “What are you waiting for?”
He halted, eyes narrowing on her. “Patience, lass. Revenge is not a thing to be rushed. It must be savored.” He gestured toward the stones, his hand sweeping wide. “This ground remembers. Refusal. Betrayal. Defiance. Today it will remember something new… submission.”
Aura’s heart pounded, but she lifted her chin. “If it’s submission you seek from me, you’ll wait an eternity. I will never submit to you.”
His laugh was soft and chilling. “A spark of fire, I expected no less. But even fire burns out beneath the right hand. You are where I want you, lass. That is all that matters.”
Her hands curled into fists. “I’ll never be yours.”
“You already are,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze raked over her, not with desire but possession. “Not for what you are, but for what you represent. Through you, I will balance the scales that were long denied me. Through you, I will claim my due.”
Aura’s breath caught, fear tangling with anger. The way he said it—not for what you are, but for what you represent—made her blood chill.
He smiled, slow and cruel. “All that’s left is for the stones to witness, and they will. Today I will have my revenge.”
Through the trees, not far off, Declan pushed hard against the pine branches scraping against his shoulders as he forced his way forward.
The witch kept stride beside him, a swish of her hand easily moving the branches out of her way.
“Slow your reckless pace,” she hissed. “Your strength is no match for what waits there.”
Declan’s jaw tightened, his breath sharp in his chest. “I don’t care. I will fight regardless.”
“You have no defense against a warlock,” she said sharply, grabbing his arm. “He will strip the strength from you before you can lift your sword.”
Declan tore free, his eyes blazing. “Then let him strip me bare. I’ll fight with nothing if I must. She is my wife. My love. I’ll not stand like a coward and watch her harmed.”
The witch studied him in silence, her dark gaze unblinking. “You speak of love as though it were a shield.”
“It is,” he said fiercely. “If not for your curse—”
“Wish,” she corrected with a bitter twist.
“Wish,” he ground out, “I would never have found her. Never known what it was to love her. I’ll not lose that. Not to you. Not to him.”
For the first time, something changed in the witch’s face, the hard lines of her mouth softening, if only for a breath.
“Foolish man,” she muttered, though her tone lacked its usual bite. She swept her hand forward. “Then come. But stay behind me when we reach the stones. If you value her life, let me lead.”
Declan paid her no mind, his only thought on reaching his wife. He broke from the trees without pause. His boots struck the damp ground in hard steps as he broke through to the clearing.
It was eerily still, mist clinging to the base of the ring of stones as if the world itself held its breath. No birds stirred, no breeze touched the space. Aura stood rigid, her chin lifted though her hands trembled at her sides.
The warlock lingered close, pale eyes gleaming like a predator waiting for his prey to exhaust itself.
“Go on, go to her. I will release the spell I had my minion place on you,” the warlock said smoothly, his voice carrying across the clearing. “Say your goodbye, warrior. She belongs to me now.” His head snapped toward the witch. “You may thank the witch—her mother—for that.”
Declan’s heart slammed against his ribs. Shock stole his breath, but he did not falter as he went to Aura, the look of immense shock on her face letting him know she had not known the witch that had granted his cursed wish had been her mum. He took her in his arms, locking her against his chest as though he could fuse her to him by will alone.
She clung fiercely in return, her breath hot and desperate against his neck. “I did not know the witch—”
“Your shocked look made that clear,” he said, keeping tight hold of her. “But she does have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Don’t hold your breath on that. Besides, it is the least of our worries.”
“I’ll not let you go, not ever,” he whispered, pressing his cheek to hers.
Behind them, the witch stepped forward, her voice sharp with fury. “Lies spill from your tongue as easily as rot festers in the dark, Alweth. You twist the past to suit your vengeance.”
Alweth’s smile thinned. “Lies, Theodora? I speak of promises.” He cast a glance at Aura and Declan. “She and I were bound long before she turned her back on me. She gave her word to wed me.”
“Word with a condition,” the witch snapped. “You were to forsake your dabbling in black arts.”