“It was one of the Eld,” Winona declared. “Formed out of the corrupted carcasses of deep-sea fish, to judge by the looks of it. Nasty business. But truly a remarkable way to discover you can shift, my dear. Our magic provides, even when we least expect it.”
Winona was handling the situation with remarkable calm, and frankly, it infuriated me. My vision was still tunneled, blurred at the edges. Everly kept trying to get up from her seat and pace, and I wanted to tie her down so I could finish tending to the open gash on her upper arm.
The cut on her cheek. The bruising across her back. The split lip. All the little injuries taunted me, showing me in no uncertain terms how close my witch had come to dying.
Again.
Blood drenched the front of her shirt and stained her mouth. Blood from the beast she’d slaughtered, ripping it apart after she magically transformed her own jaw into that of her enemy.
She was still shaking, even as she nibbled at a frosted lemon cake and sipped a hot cup of tea. She kept fidgeting as I cleaned the wound on her arm, continually reaching up to rub her jaw, occasionally reaching into her mouth to run her finger over her teeth.
I’d heard legends of witches who could physically change their own bodies, morphing their physical forms like demons could. It was incredibly rare. I’d never seen it myself.
Until today.
Her wonder and curiosity had turned to terror, and I’d felt it. Even miles away, in the northern reaches of the forest — I’d felt her. That sudden shift in her emotions had immediately brought me back.
Flying into the vault and finding her there crouched over the beast, drenched in blood with a mouthful of fangs, had stunned me. If it weren’t for that, she would be dead. I would have been too late. My oath to protect her would have been broken, and although her soul would live on, how could I forgive myself?
“I can’t keep depending on my magic to simply provide,” she said, her voice shaking as I secured a bandage around her arm. She would heal quickly, thanks to the enchanted medical supplies. “I need to be able to use it when I need it, not simply hope for a miracle when I’m desperate.”
“You will,” I said. “It will take time and patience.”
“The first of which we have in short supply,” she said. Glancing toward the radio as I dabbed at the blood around her mouth, she said, “Where does that tunnel in the vault lead?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Winona said thoughtfully. “That place has been sealed for so long, I’m not sure anyone in the house really knew what was inside. But if I had to guess, judging by Sybil’s fascination with studying the God, it may be an entrance to the mines.”
“That would explain why such a powerful Eld creature was able to get in,” I said. “A beast like that needs a great deal of corrupt magic to form.”
“Does the tunnel give the God access to the house?” Everly said.
Winona was silent for a moment. “It’s unlikely. The protective spells around this place extend into the ground as well as the air. The God would have to stretch Its energy excessively to enter. Without being able to easily move Its physical form, the God would struggle to penetrate the barrier with psychic energy alone.”
Everly’s eyes were vacant with shock. Her heart was still pounding. How could I have been so foolish to leave her alone? I’d known there was risk, and yet, I’d left her anyway.
I hated myself for it.
“I don’t understand how it happened,” she said. “I just remember thinking…if only I had teeth like that, I could defend myself.”
“You shouldn’t have had to defend yourself.” I pulled her hand away from her mouth so I could clean the scrapes on her knuckles. “I was wrong to leave and let you go in alone. I should have been there.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I should have.” The words came out with a snarl, and she stared at me, making me bristle under her gaze. “I failed you. It’s not acceptable. I failed the oath I made to you.”
It was a sickening feeling, truly. The thought that she’d been so close to death, from such a ridiculous thing. To die in the safety of her own house, left alone by the one being who should have been protecting her above all else.
“You should punish me for it. You never should have been left alone.”
She shook her head, her face softening. But I didn’t want her to be soft. I didn’t need gentle reassurances.
I needed the reminder that consequences came without mercy. I’d dared to allow myself to grow lax and that simply wasn’t acceptable.
“Oh, stop pouting, Callum,” Winona said. “It is a dangerous world we live in, and Everly defended herself well. Remarkable, truly remarkable…” She went on muttering to herself.
My energy was so heightened. I could barely sit still, and I couldn’t force my mind to calm. I needed to be alone with my witch. I needed her voice, her touch.
“It’s not your fault, Callum.” Everly grasped my arm, and I froze. She noticed my stiffness and softened even further, gentling her voice like I was a wild animal that might flee from her at any second. “It’s okay.”
Those words were like torture.
I couldn’t have known. Nothing I could have done. I gave all I could.
Bullshit. Fate had ripped everything from me and yet somehow that wasn’t enough for me to learn my lesson?
“If that tunnel leads down to the mine, we would benefit from having a map before attempting further exploration,” Winona said, oblivious to my suffering. “Those flooded passages are like a maze.”
“We could check the university library,” Everly said. “They probably have the original building plans for the mine somewhere in storage.”
She still had her hand on me, keeping me close. It both comforted me and intensified my guilt. Her affection, which I longed for above all else, wasn’t something I deserved.
“I need to get down into the laboratory again, as soon as possible. Sybil found something, I’m sure of it. A way to poison the God. But…” She paused, chewing her thumbnail. “Many of her notes are written in a language I don’t understand, one I’ve never seen outside this house.”
“Sybil was known to frequently write in code, particularly toward the end of her life as she grew more paranoid,” Winona said. “But if we can decipher her writing…”
“Then we may find a way to get the upper hand,” Everly finished for her. The determination on her face would have made me proud, if I weren’t so wrapped up in my own guilt.
But I could see that field again. I could smell the dirt drenched in blood, the smoke, the stench of rot. The screams of the dying.
Everly was watching me. Although I couldn’t meet her eyes, I hoped she would understand my shame. My regret. How desperately I needed an outlet for this simmering anger before it boiled over.
“Grams, could we have some time alone, please? I need to talk to Callum.”
Finally, at last, I’d get what I deserved. Everly didn’t know enough spells to hurt me, but I could guide her, I could tell her how.
The room was warmer when the ghost left. Everly had stopped shaking, and the focus had returned to her eyes. But with that focus came concern and worry.
“Callum. Look at me.”
She was blood-stained. Battered. Bruised. Staring at the cut on her lip, I stood with my hands behind my back and didn’t say a word.
“You’re angry,” she said.
I needed to get those clothes off her, dress her in something clean so death couldn’t touch her.
“At myself, yes,” I said. “I knew better than to leave you.”
“You were doing your duty to protect this house.”
“I knew —”
“Stop arguing.” The authority in her voice rattled me. She folded her arms, drawing herself up to her full height. “Am I not your mistress?”
My fingers snapped, anxious energy seeking an outlet. “Yes. Yes, my lady, you are.”
“These games we play are only acceptable if we are not using them to harm ourselves, or to cause true harm to each other,” she said. “You feel guilty. You feel responsible. You want that guilt to disappear and the only way you can think of is with pain.”
“You couldn’t truly harm me. It’s merely a —”
“Yes, I could,” she said fiercely. “And you know it. I will not allow you to use me to hurt yourself. That’s not what I want.”
She crossed the room, taking a seat in the high-backed chair beside the fire, facing me. She’d removed her muddy boots, but the tight corset of her white shirt was streaked with crimson. She raised her chin and crossed her legs.
Every inch of her embodied the mistress of this house as she said, “You’re demanding what you want. Not much of a punishment if you want it, is it?”
I didn’t have an answer for her. A distressing cocktail of emotions swirled in my chest. Protests and arguments tried to claw out of my throat.
“If you want to make it up to me for your absence — which I do not blame you for — then you’ll do as I say.”
Growling in frustration, I clenched my fists. “Everly, you don’t understand. When a warrior fails —”
“A warrior listens to their commander.” She did not raise her voice; she lowered it. That was far more intimidating.
When had I last encountered a being that could truly shake me to my core, who could make me question everything? I wanted to be strong, and yet, with her blue eyes fixed upon me, I wanted to give in. To be weak, for just a moment.
The tempest inside me was merciless. Defy. Obey. Flee.
Instead, I stood there, waiting. Watching her and her alone.
“Whatever you wish, my lady, I will obey.”
She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. My mind was in chaos, scrambling for answers, for something to satisfy both her and my own stubbornness.
“Don’t withdraw from me.” She sounded sad, like she pitied me. Damn it, I didn’t want her sympathy, but this wasn’t about what I wanted. “Listen to what I’m telling you and try to understand why. Otherwise, we’re not communicating.”
She was right. My mind was at war with itself but I could still see the wisdom in her words.
My nails dug into my palms, the pain keeping me grounded. “I’m listening, my lady. I’m angry. I feel wretched and fucking useless. Like I’ve failed you in the same way I failed so many others.” It was like pulling out the words with fishhooks as I said, “I want to obey you. I want you to bring me back to myself, regardless of how you choose to do that.”
It terrified me to be vulnerable, to be weak – even with her. But only she could guide me back to a state of calm.
“I’m with you, Callum,” she said. “I’m not leaving you. You’re not alone.”
I almost begged her to stop. Stop the reassurances, the kindness. Stop before it stripped me raw. Instead, I bowed my head, accepting her words like a whip’s lashes.
Her fingers curled around her chin, pushing her lips into a delightful pout that made me long to kiss her.
“Undress,” she said.
There wasn’t much clothing to remove, as I hated wearing restrictive garments in the first place. With my trousers tossed aside, I stood naked before her, clasping my hands behind my back yet again.
Her gaze fixated on my cock. Arousal swirled through her like a sudden storm, and she squeezed her crossed legs together.
“Are you always hard?”
“It would take a concentrated effort not to be,” I said. “Particularly in your presence.”
I longed to rip that filthy clothing off of her, to kiss every bruise on her, to make her forget her fear in my arms. But to obey her was to suffer, and that was what I deserved.
She lifted her hand, pointing to the shining wood floor in front of her seat. “Kneel and restrain yourself.”
On my knees before her, I paused. “How would you prefer I be restrained?”
She smiled, and my cock pulsed at the sight. “With rope, of course. Bind yourself. Hands behind your back, and keep your legs spread.”
I manifested my ropes and coiled them around my body. My arms were bound behind my back, connected to a rope that looped around my neck. If I squirmed my arms too much, it would cut off my air, effectively forcing me to stay still. With intricate knots, I bound my thighs to my calves, preventing myself from being able to rise from my knees.
My head remained bowed, awaiting the first hint of pain, eager for agony to chase my guilt away. But it didn’t come. Instead, Everly rose from her chair and crouched in front of me. Her delicate fingers tucked beneath my chin, and I winced as she lifted my head.
“You can’t watch me every second of every day, Callum. I need to be able to do things on my own, too.”
Shaking my head, I insisted, “I can certainly try. You’re too precious to risk.”
“Every day is a risk,” she said. “To live is to risk dying, always. You have my soul. My afterlife is already yours.”
“Not if the God takes you from me.”
Her eyes were soft, yet so radiant. They drew me in, even when I wanted to look away in shame.
She closed her fingers around my cock. There was still uncertainty in her movements, clumsiness from lack of experience, but that only made me love her touch more. The thick veins in my shaft throbbed against her hand.
“This isn’t punishment for failing to protect me.” She leaned forward, and I groaned aloud as she spat on my cock, spreading it over me with her hand. “This is punishment for trying to hurt yourself.”
She kept stroking me, slow and steady, building the pleasure but taking her sweet time to do it. She gave me a condescending smile as I bent forward, choked sounds forced out of my throat by the rope as it tightened.
“Sit up straight,” she said. “I like to see good posture.”
“Fuck, Everly, you don’t understand what you do to me —”
“I didn’t tell you to speak.”
She kept stroking, slowing her pace every time my shoulders desperately hunched forward. When I dared to thrust my hips into her hand, demanding more in a moment of weakness, she slapped the palm of her hand against my cock.
The sting made me groan, precum leaking from me. My breath shuddered as she grasped me again, moving so painfully slowly. Pleading words tried to escape me. They manifested as furious whimpers that made her giggle.
“Don’t you like it?” she teased. She lightly stroked the very tip of my cock, making me twitch. “Do you want more?”
I nodded rapidly. But her smile was too wicked to be reassuring.
She leaned close enough that I felt the warmth of her breath. She withdrew her hand from me, slick with her saliva and my own precum, and reached around to stroke the lubrication over my hole.
“Fuck yourself,” she said. “Squeeze two fingers inside your ass and make yourself moan for me.”
As I obeyed, the movement of my arms tightened the rope around my neck. My muscles were taut, and the penetration burned, but I savored the pain. My fingers squeezed past the knuckles and a strangled sound choked out of me.
Everly was watching me with wide eyes. Her breathing quickened as I groaned, and she cupped my face in her hands.
“Such a good boy,” she murmured.
I shook my head, nearly rabid with desire, pain, and longing. “Not good. Fucking failed you.”
She spoke so tenderly, so goddamn gently. “You’re doing so well for me, Callum. Obeying me even though it hurts. Mm, I like that expression on your face. Like it’s too much…and not enough.”
I leaned into her hand, shuddering as I pumped my fingers. She stood up, and another throttled sound escaped me as she stood there holding my head. Encouraging me. Praising me.
“That’s it. Push them a little deeper. Now all the way out…and push them in again. So good.”
My cock was leaking on the floor, and every thrust of my fingers made it worse. I was aching to be touched. But she stepped back and sat in the chair again; a victorious queen on her throne, drenched in blood. She spread her legs, resting the crook of her knee up on the arm of the chair as she pulled up her skirt.
She tugged her panties to the side. Fuck, she looked delicious. Pink and glistening with arousal, soft blonde curls covering her. The keening sound I made was humiliating, ravenous with desire. The whimper of a dog who’s been denied food.
She curled her finger at me. “Crawl to me, demon.”
Every movement tugged the rope around my throat, keeping it tight. I knelt at her feet, and she guided my head closer, bringing it to rest against her thigh.
“Keep fucking yourself.”
I was going to lose my goddamn mind. The blood staining her clothes, the sweat on her skin, the sweetness of her arousal – I could smell it all. It made me tingle as if I’d inhaled a drug, my veins running so hot that my vision grew blurry.
Turning my head, I clamped my sharp teeth into her soft skin. She gasped, withing in the chair, hands clenching on the arm rests. But her gasp of pain dissolved into a moan of pleasure as I broke the skin.
The magic in her blood was so sweet. Like honey filling my mouth.
“Careful…” She gripped my hair, guiding my head closer to the apex of her legs. I closed my mouth over her like I was starving, straining against the rope around my neck. I lapped my tongue over her clit, savoring her, encouraged by every little groan and whimper she gave me.
She was panting, her hand fisted in my hair.
“Keep your fingers deep inside,” she said, her voice faint with pleasure. “Don’t stop until you make me come.”
Her control calmed my mind. The beast inside me that wanted to rage and destroy needed a master who could soothe it, contain it, tame it. All the failures that weighed on me, all the memories I tried to forget, were buried instantly by one desire.
Obey her. Please her. Serve her.
She shuddered beneath my tongue, her eyes fluttering closed. She rolled her hips and I moaned against her, making her squirm in ecstasy.
When she came, her thighs squeezed around my head. Her muscles pulsed, and she trembled, gripping my hair so tight it ached.
My face was wet with her, and I licked the taste of her from my lips, my chin. She sat there for a moment in silence as she recovered, breathing slow and deep, a little smile on her face.
She straightened up slowly, tucking her wild hair back from her face. She lay her hand against my cheek for a moment, murmuring, “You’re such a good boy. You use your tongue so well. Are you still fucking yourself for me?” I nodded, cock aching.
Then she said, “Re-tie your wrists in front of you.”
I repositioned my arms. My cock jutted up between my fingers, my claws twitching with the need to touch myself.
“Pleasure yourself for me,” she said. “But don’t come until I give you permission.”
I obeyed, grasping my cock in my bound hand and stroking. Rebellious thoughts of discarding these ropes and seizing her, throwing her onto the bed, and fucking her mercilessly made my hands begin to shake.
“Be good,” she said, and I was weak for her, again.
Pricking my claws into my skin, I groaned at the sting, but it helped me remain in control. I’d had countless lovers, both dominant and submissive, beings who could play my body like an instrument; but Everly made me feel things I hadn’t experienced in centuries.
She was too pure, too sincere in her intentions. Her face hid nothing; I saw her fascination, her desire, her pleasure. Her fingers tightened on the arms of the chair, and I wished they were still gripping me instead.
I was riding the edge of orgasm, mercilessly close to losing control, held back only by my determination to obey. My eyes were locked on her, waiting, pleading silently for her lips to move and her permission to come.
“Mistress…please.”
She smiled, the expression so sudden and unbridled that I groaned, bowing my head as I kept stroking. My claws had dug in so many times that blood streaked my hand, but that only made me more feral. A beast consumed by ravenous need.
Finally, like a blessing from a goddess, she said, “Come for me, Callum.”
My mind fractured; the growl that came out of me purely animalistic. My seed spilled across the floor, pearlescent in the firelight. My body was in rapture, seized for a moment in perfect bliss as I curled forward, unable to keep myself upright. My forehead came to rest against her bare foot, dangling from the chair, and I kissed her warm skin as I said, “Thank you, Mistress.”
“You’re not done yet. Clean up the mess you made.”
Every inch of this room smelled like her. The rug, the drapes, the furniture — and yes, even the floor itself as I lowered my head to obey her command. Still tightly bound, the ropes dug in as I moved, bent over my knees to lick my own cum from the floor. Her foot pressed lightly on the back of my head, and I stroked my tongue along the wood to get every last drop.
For a moment, my cheek lay at rest against the floor, her foot still pressing me down. Like a ship in the aftermath of an ocean’s brutal storm, I drifted, quiet but tired, full of relief.
It had been decades since I’d last felt so calm; centuries, perhaps. I’d forgotten the sensation, how it melted through my body, soothing the writhing energy inside.
Her foot moved, and she softly called my name. Lifting my head, I allowed her arms to guide me closer so I could rest on her lap instead. Kneeling at her feet, my wings were limp at my sides, my face buried against her thighs as her fingers stroked through my hair.
“Did I please you?” It ached to hear myself sound so vulnerable.
“Yes, Callum.” Her voice burrowed into my very being, surrounding my heart like cradling hands. “You did so well.”
For the first time in nearly two thousand years, I felt an emotion I swore I’d never feel again. I tried to beat it down, tried to smother it with fear, but it was useless.
I’d learned long ago that love could not truly be killed.
