Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2)

T
his is a work of fiction
. Any resemblances to real persons, living or dead, found within are purely coincidental. All characters are consenting adults above the age of 18.

A
ll Rights Reserved
. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

C
opyright 2016 Steffanie
Holmes

http://steffanieholmes.com

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T
hat night Ada
huddled against me for warmth, an action I readily encouraged. I had been thinking about her nonstop ever since we’d escaped the village, but I hadn’t been able to take her in the way I wanted to. At night she fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted by the demands of the road, and I had to stand watch and find some sleep myself. In this moment, it felt wonderful to have her next to me, alive and warm and intoxicating, but she was a distraction. I had to keep her safe, which meant I needed all my senses on full alert. We hadn’t so much as kissed since Clarissa found us. My body ached with desire for her, but I was too tired, too worried. And Ada, of course, would not initiate anything, although I could see she too wanted me.

But Ada’s curse hung over us, and I counted on my fingers the days since we’d last made love. Was it truly only six days ago? It felt like much longer. Nevertheless, I felt a familiar tugging against the cloth of my breeches. I didn’t mind at all being forced to do my duty to keep her powers.

Although the night was cold, it was also beautiful. Ada’s aunts and Tjard were asleep some distance off, sheltered in the crook of a gnarled trunk. We lay together against the side of the cart, snow piling up around us, the blankets pulled tight around our faces to protect us from the wind. Just being beside her, inhaling her soft scent, was intoxicating. I watched Ada as she stared at the dark grey sky, awake and unblinking, the silhouette of her features just visible against the snow: her tiny nose, her heart-shaped face, her high, noble cheekbones. The cupid’s bow of her lips pursed, waiting.

My cock stirred, starting to harden as I thought of those lips on mine, or wrapped around my shaft, sliding up and down, warming me in the way only she knew how.
Ada.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d been craving her these past days. But now my body was desperate for her.

I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers, my cold nose brushing her warm skin. The kiss ignited the spark within me, as it awoke her also. I devoured her lips in mine. She tasted warm and fresh, as if she were made of dew. My tongue slid over hers, hungrily probing deeper. Now that we were locked together, I didn’t know how I’d survived for so many days without her. I needed her touch desperately.

Ada’s kisses grew more fervent. She made a mewling noise as she raked her delicate fingers through my hair, pulling my head closer. She needed me as much as I needed her.

I slipped my hands under her dress, relishing the heat of her skin. I moved my fingers across her chest, feeling for her nipples. They were already hard with desire, as I took one between my fingers and pinched slightly. Ada moaned against me, digging her nails into my shoulders. I was so hard that my cock pressed against her hip.

I kept rolling her nipple between my fingers. Ada moaned louder now, her breath sharp in my ear. I’d never heard her make noise like that before. She almost sounded as if she were in pain—

“Stop …” she gasped.

Stop?
She didn’t have to say that anymore. I needed to remind Ada that we weren’t in the dungeon any longer. She wasn’t my prisoner. She didn’t have to play the game by pretending to beg for mercy. I kissed her hard, pushing my tongue deep inside her mouth while I scraped my nail over her nipple.

“Ulrich, stop!”

I froze, my fingers dropping her nipple. Ada sounded serious. Her whole body was shaking. No, not shaking.
Convulsing.
I pulled back, searching her stricken features for the problem.
But what happened?

Ada tore herself from my grasp, pressing her hands against her chest, gasping for air. Her face crumpled with pain, her skin pale as death.

“
Q
uickly
,” Clarissa said. “You have only moments before the entire village finds us here. Take me with you, Ulrich, and make me your wife, or I will slit the throat of this witch. What’s it going to be?”

Ulrich’s eyes met mine, and I saw my own fear reflected there. “Don’t move, Ada.” he said, his voice low. He reached for his sword. “I won’t let her hurt you.”

“Touch your weapon, and I kill her,” Clarissa warned.

The blade pressed harder against my skin. I could feel the sharpness digging into me. At any moment Clarissa could open a vein, and I would be dead. The elation at our escape fled my body, replaced by cold dread.
Please, Ulrich,
I begged him silently, pushing the thought out of my body as if by some miracle it could reach him.
Just tell her what she needs to hear. Get her to lower the blade, to loosen her grip, and then strike.

But I knew my warrior too well – he would not take a threat without responding. He would react as he had been taught, using force to subdue his enemy. Only this time, his enemy was only moments away from draining my life.

Ulrich took a wobbly step forward, his bad leg dragging behind him. His hand poised above his blade. I could see the muscles in his neck tightening, every fibre of him on edge, coiled like a snake ready to strike. His eyes narrowed as he studied Clarissa, looking for weakness. He knew her better than any of us: if there was a way for him to triumph, he would find it.

Behind me I could hear the shouts of the villagers as they crashed through the forest. They spread out along the tree line, covering more ground as they searched for us. I could hear men shouting to each other, boasting of what they’d do to us when they caught us. At any moment they could be upon us, and either way I’d be dead.

Please Ulrich, just let her think she’s won, and then you can strike.

But of course he didn’t hear me.

Ulrich leaned forward, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword, his handsome face twisted into an ugly scowl. I closed my eyes, my heart sinking into my stomach as I realized that in a moment Ulrich would strike, but I wouldn’t feel it, because I would be dead. Clarissa’s cold blade shifted against my throat.
This is it …

Ulrich cleared his throat. “Very well. I will marry you.”

My chest swelled with hope. He had seen sense after all. My eyes flew open. Ulrich stood before Clarissa, his hand no longer gripping the hilt of his weapon, but instead outstretched toward her, the palm open in a gesture of supplication. Her grip on my neck slackened ever so slightly.

“What did you say?” Clarissa’s voice hissed past my ear.

“If you left Ada go, I will marry you, as you wish.” Ulrich’s eyes flicked briefly to me, and I saw the turmoil there. He hated having to bargain with Clarissa in order to free me. He would much rather cleave off her head and be done with it.
It doesn’t matter.
I tried to push out the thought to him, to help him remain calm for her, and for me.
I do not wish her dead, only that she extend me the same courtesy.

“Well, now, and they say chivalry is dead.” Clarissa pressed the knife tighter against my skin. I sucked in a breath as I flinched away from the blade, pressing my body against Clarissa’s bony frame. “I don’t believe you really mean it, Ulrich.”

“I’ve agreed, Clarissa. You know that my word is truth. Now, let Ada go.”

“Not just yet. I require certain assurances. You and you, the old witches.” Clarissa glared at my aunts. “Bind his oath.”

“While you’ve got a knife to my niece’s throat?” snapped Bernadine. “I don’t think so.” Even though I was terrified for my life, I smiled inwardly at her words. Trust Bernadine to get sassy at a time like this.

“This is merely a precaution,” Clarissa said, with a smile in her voice. She shifted the blade again, moving her arm into a more comfortable position. I winced again, my heart hammering as the steel pressed against my skin. “Ada is not in any danger from me, as long as you all comply. I do not really want to spill her blood. I just want a guarantee that our nuptials will go ahead as promised.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Bernadine complained. “It won’t be long now before the villagers are upon us. I don’t know for certain, but I’m going to guess if they think so little of Ada and her middling magical abilities, they’re probably going to have a special spot of the pyre for the gypsy who tricked hundreds of god-fearing men.”

Clarissa hissed through her teeth. My heart plummeted through my stomach. I realized we’d made a terrible mistake. Clarissa wasn’t going to let me go. She wouldn’t allow me to live after she had Ulrich. She hated me, because in her mind I had stolen him from her, and she could not forgive me for that. She would bind herself to him, and
then
kill me. I tried to convey this message to the others, but all that I could push from my mouth was a frightened squeak.

My Aunts exchanged glances, an entire conversation passing silently between them. Surely they could see the hatred in Clarissa’s eyes? Aunt Bernadine turned toward Clarissa, and nodded.
No,
I screamed inside my head.
Don’t bind their oath! She’s going to kill me, and Ulrich will be bound by his oath not to avenge me.
Do not listen to her, find another way.

“You’ll need to put Ada down to perform the ritual,” said Aunt Aubrey, reaching out a trembling hand toward Clarissa.

“I do not,” Clarissa pulled back the knife and wrapped her arm around my throat, pressing against my throat in such a way that her bone crushed my windpipe. I clawed at her skin as I gasped for air. Panic rose inside me. I kicked my legs out, thrashed against her grip. She was choking me!

“I would hurry, if I were you,” said Clarissa. “Ada doesn’t have much breath left in her.”

Ulrich looked furious. “If you hurt her, I will run you through.”

“Oh, I’m just teasing,” Clarissa laughed. She loosened her grip slightly. I gasped against her grip, sucking in the precious air before she cut me off again.

Ulrich held out his hand in front of Clarissa’s face. She pressed the tip of the knife to the bad of his finger, until a few drops of blood tumbled out. She did the same with her own finger, and then returned the knife to my throat.

“Say the words,” Clarissa commanded. “Do it quickly, and we’ll all have time to escape. That is, if Ada hasn’t run out of breath.”

“Fine.” Bernadine reached down, and tore a strip for fabric from the fraying hemline of her skirts. Her and Aubrey stood on either side of Clarissa, and raised their hands, grabbing each Ulrich’s and Clarissa’s wrists and pushing their palms together, so the blood they spilled mixed. Bernadine tied three knots in the fabric, creating a symbolic oath-ring, and then began to wind it around their outstretched fingers. “As the blood of your hearts touch each other, so shall your bodies and souls be joined as one. Your oath is made in fire, bound to earth, and witnessed by the old gods.”

“May the strands of destiny tie us who witness this oath to its destiny. May we serve as guardians of the sacred duty of the oath makers,” chanted Aubrey, her voice tinged with sadness. I gagged as my stomach twisted, my throat burning.

“May death claim your most precious treasure, if the oath shall be broken.” Bernadine said. “Do you accept the oath, and the consequences?”

“I do.” Ulrich said, his eyes boring into mine.

“Yes,” Clarissa hissed. She twisted her arm around. Red spots appeared in front of my eyes. My head felt light, as though it might float away at any moment. I could hardly feel the pain in my throat any longer.

“The binding is complete,” Bernadine said. Her voice sounded far away, muddy. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. “Now, we will take Ada and leave you two lovebirds to enjoy your honeymoon.”

Clarissa had to shift her weight in order to slip her hand from the makeshift oath-ring. As she did, I summoned every last remaining ounce of energy, wrenched my neck around and buried my teeth into her hand, not stopping until I tasted blood. She howled and dropped her grip on me, stumbling back and clutching her bleeding hand.

“You whore!” she cried, watching in horror as blood ran between her fingers. “That hurt!”

I fell to the earth, landing hard on my knees and hands, my stomach retching as I gulped in the air. “Ulrich, quickly!” I yelled, my voice coming out as barely a croak. I felt as though I were trying to swallow a knife.

Ulrich charged forward, but his injured leg made him move with excruciating slowness. Clarissa was faster. She somersaulted over his back, and raced after me, screaming for my death. I scrambled across the ground toward my aunts, still too weak to pull myself to my feet. She pounced on me like a wolf attacking its prey, her fingers curled like talons as she tore at my face.

I howled as her nails raked along my skin, my face stinging from the fresh wounds. We rolled over each other as we scrambled across the earth, each other struggling against the other to gain the advantage. I gasped and wretched for air as I struggled to hold Clarissa at bay. The strength I’d found to escape fled my limbs. My grip weakened. Clarissa clambered on top of me, pinning one hand down behind my head. With the other, she forced the blade downward, inching closer and closer to my face. I had her wrist, trying to push her arm back, away from my skin. My elbow wobbled. I was losing the strength to hold her back. I closed my eyes. It would all be over soon.

Someone grabbed Clarissa and heaved her off me. I sat up, retching and heaving, knowing I should move to safety but not having the energy to do it. I opened my eyes, and saw Ulrich toss Clarissa into the trees as if she were a branch felled for the fire. The knife flew from her hand and stabbed into the dirt in front of the wagon.

Heedless to his injury, Ulrich leapt for the knife. But Clarissa saw the weapon at the same time, and dived for it. Both their hands closed around it at the same time, Clarissa’s on the hilt, and Ulrich’s on the blade. I winced as I watched his face contort in pain. But he didn’t let go. He closed his palm around the blade, blood oozing between his fingers as Clarissa tried to wrest it from his grasp.

Ulrich’s features turned ugly as he tried to jerk the knife from Clarissa’s grasp. The corners of his mouth tugged with pain. For Ulrich to show any emotion at all, must’ve meant that he was in agony. Blood poured in red rivers down his muscular forearm. Clarissa laughed gleefully as she worked the blade back and forth, forcing it deeper into his hand. And it was his sword hand – if Clarissa damaged him permanently, Ulrich would not be able to grip his weapon.

I thought to run at Clarissa, but the idea of getting close to her again while she had a blade froze me in terror. I could still feel the ghostly press of that cold steel against my throat.

Make her stop.

The thought blazed through my mind like fire. It seemed to come from a deep, unconscious place within me, a great welling-up of heat that burned with anger as I watched Clarissa destroying Ulrich’s hand while he fought to save me. The heat rose through my core, and fired down my arm. My skin sizzled. My hands burned as if I clutched a hot coal.

I raised my hand to my face, feeling a flush on my skin as the heat rushed in my palm, pressing against my skin from the inside, becoming urgent, unbearable.

You will not take him from me.

I don’t know where the knowledge came from, I seemed to move with a resolve that did not originate from my own mind. I knelt on my knees, grounding my shaking body to the earth, and held up my hand, pointing my palm out toward Clarissa. “Stop,” I whispered.

The heat surged, a great pulse of energy driving through my body and out of my fingers. A tongue of fire shot out from my palm and arced across the clearing toward Clarissa. The flames hit her torn dress, immediately catching the flimsy fabric alight. Clarissa stared down at the flames, her face pale with shock. She dropped the knife and flattened herself against the ground, swiping at the flames with her hands, trying to smother them against the earth. But the earth was on my side. The Goddess answered to me. The flames leapt higher.

I felt no remorse, no empathy as I watched Clarissa writhe in pain. No matter how hard she beat at them, the flames could not be snuffed out. Instead, they burned her dress to ashes and licking against her bare legs. The air smelled of burning skin.

Clarissa’s mouth formed a silent O, and it seemed as if for a moment she was detached from the flames that licked against her skin, but then her screams came, horrible gasps and wails assailed my ears. She no longer sounded human, but some wild beast consumed by terror. She tore at the fire as it spread up her leg, her fingers clawing at her unblemished skin as it crackled in the flames.

“Help me. It burns! It burns!” She sobbed.

Aunt Aubrey stepped forward, her arms outstretched as though she might try to help, but Bernadine gripped her wrist and pulled her back, her eyes hard.

“We have to stop her,” Aunt Aubrey cried. “She’s going to lead the villagers right to us.”

Ulrich grabbed for her, but Clarissa thrashed so wildly she broke his grasp. She managed to stagger to her feet, her body ringed with an aura of fire. She shot us all one furious glare, turned on her heel and fled into the woods, screaming with pain as she crashed through the trees, moving away from us, hopefully drawing away the villagers’ attention.

We were alone again.

Tjard and Aunt Aubrey ran to Ulrich, who stared down at his bloody hand with a strange, faraway expression on his face, as though he didn’t quite believe that much blood could come from him. They worked quickly to bandage his hand, and ordered him to hold it above his head. Aunt Bernadine strode toward me, but instead of picking me up off the ground, she grabbed my wrist, and turned my hand over, her calloused, arthritic fingers tracing the lines of my palm.

“As I suspected,” she whispered.

“What?” I glared at her, but Bernadine, of course, did not answer me. She never did. She dropped my wrist just as the others crowded around me.

“What happened here?” Tjard demanded as he struggled to calm the horses. “Where did that fire come from?”