Soul of a Witch: Chapter 24

For the entire next day and following night, I slept. Fitful dreams filled my sleep, visions of fire, memories of pain.

In the brief moments I would wake, Callum was standing over me. Sometimes close, right at my bedside. Sometimes in a chair near the fire or standing by the window gazing out at the rain. But he was always near, and his presence gave me comfort.

Despite the Deep One’s vicious efforts, my soul was no longer destined for Its merciless eternity. With just a few words and the cuts from Callum’s knife, my fate had changed entirely.

I belonged to him, and my soul was destined for Hell.

Slowly, I sat up, feeling like a corpse rising from the grave. Pale sunlight streamed in the open windows. My grandmother’s radio was set on the table near the fireplace, and it crackled with her voice.

“It’s good to see you awake at last,” she said. “Callum has gone out to the garden to fetch a few herbs for me. I’m preparing a tincture that will help those scars heal cleanly.”

Immediately, my hand clutched at my stomach. I’d been dressed in clean clothes, made of soft loose linen. But beneath the cloth, my skin was tender. Holding my breath to brace myself, I lifted my shirt and peered down. Elaborate lines and circles covered my stomach, surrounding Callum’s familiar sigil carved over my navel.

Abruptly, I lowered my shirt and hugged my arms around myself. My grandmother tsked softly, and I felt the sensation of a hand rubbing my shoulders.

“Oh, my dear, do not be afraid,” she said. “Many people throughout history, witches or not, have given their souls to a demon. An afterlife in Hell is not the terror you’ve been led to believe. It is an entirely new world; you will not be abused there. Some witches visit Hell even before their deaths. I’ve heard it’s a fascinating place.”

“Have you been there?” I said, desperately eager for her reassurance. So much of my life felt beyond my control; I was stuck on a rollercoaster with no brakes, unable to see the twists and turns of the track ahead.

“I have not. But your ancestor, our Grand Mistress Sybil, traveled there many times.”

The reminder of Sybil made me groan. “The grimoire. I lost the grimoire, Grams, I —” I sighed, thinking suddenly of naive Raelynn carrying that book around. “But I know where it is.”

“Then you haven’t truly lost it, have you?” she said, keeping her voice fiercely upbeat. “You’ve been through enough in these past few days. You need your rest, and a bath by the look of your hair. When you’ve healed, you will try again. As long as you’re alive, we have not failed.” There was a soft sound, like the shifting of dry grass. “Callum has returned. I’ll leave you to rest, but I’m sure he’ll be up to check on you soon.”

Before she could go, I said suddenly, “There was another demon here, wasn’t there? Callum was angry…” The memories were so vague, but I was certain I’d seen another demon, with massive feathered wings, standing over me as I writhed in pain.

My grandmother’s voice was grim as she said, “We were visited by one of Hell’s oldest and most powerful demons, Lucifer. He demanded Callum claim your soul, and Callum tried to refuse — until he had no other choice.”

A thousand questions fought for attention in my mind. “Why would another demon care what happens to my soul?”

“You’re powerful, Everly. And Hell craves power. The dedication of your soul to Hell helps to ensure the ongoing security and longevity of that world.” It seemed as if there was something more she wanted to explain, but instead said abruptly, “I’ll prepare the tincture for you. You’ll find clean clothes in the wardrobe.”

With a final crackle of static, she left the room.

Despite my clean clothes, the rest of me was still filthy. The wounds on my wrists had been cleaned and bandaged, but my hair was clumped with dirt and tangles, my skin spotted with mud. My body ached as I got out of bed, stretching my stiff arms and legs. To my surprise, despite being drowsy and sore, I felt far stronger than I expected.

Far stronger than I had felt before.

I drew a bath, filling the large porcelain tub with water that smelled faintly of cedarwood. Steam surrounded me as I stepped into the bath, sinking into the water with a groan. Carefully, I unwrapped the bandages from my wrists, allowing the wounds a bit of fresh air. The bruising was extensive, but the tears in my skin had already healed.

After scrubbing myself clean, I drained the tub and filled it again with fresh water, closing my eyes as I soaked. But it wasn’t long before a strange feeling made me open them again.

It was the sensation of being watched, but not by the God. Frowning, I looked all around the room, searching for the source of my unease. The large window beside the tub looked out upon a gray rainy day, and as I peered down into the yard, I spotted a figure standing beneath the trees.

They were shrouded in a red cloak, standing out starkly amid the dark greenery. They were tall, easily as tall as Callum, and instead of a face…

It was the skull of a horse.

A chill went up my back as I stared into those empty eye sockets. The being didn’t move, but I knew with absolute certainty they were watching me.

The bathroom door quietly swung open, the subtle click of claws on the tile announcing Callum’s arrival. He was already standing in the room when he knocked, drawing my attention away from the window.

“Someone is out there,” I said.

The demon didn’t seem alarmed as he nodded. “I know. He is one of the fae; Darragh told me he was coming. It’s been a very long time since magic like yours has been unleashed in their forest. You’ve caught their attention, my lady. The fae are curious creatures, but cautious too. It is the duty of the Old Man to ensure you don’t mean his kind any harm.”

“Old Man?” I jerked my head toward the window again, but the horse skull had vanished. Rising halfway from the bath in alarm, I pressed my face closer to the window, looking all over the garden for him.

But the haunting figure was gone.

“That’s what Darragh calls him,” Callum said. “I suppose he has other names, too. But demons don’t fuck with fae. We certainly don’t seek out their names. It’s bad form.”

Frowning, I sank back into the water. “There’s so much I don’t know. The fae. Heaven and Hell. The gods. I feel lost.” It frustrated me to be so naïve, so ignorant.

“A hunger for knowledge can be more valuable than knowledge itself. People take what they know for granted.”

I turned away from the window and faced him. The night he rescued me, flying me here through the dark, through the rain, I’d seen a different side to him. Something beyond the feral monster who pursued me like a ravenous wolf, who could shake the stone walls with his voice.

That night, he’d been afraid. Afraid for me. Even in the depths of my pain, I’d felt the way he held me. As if he was prepared to fight death itself to keep it from taking me.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve claimed a human soul?” The moment my words emerged as a question, I felt like a fool and shook my head. “Of course it isn’t. You’ve been alive hundreds of years…thousands…”

The silence stretched. It grew thick, heavy with tension.

“It’s been a very long time since I claimed a soul,” he finally said. The words were slow and careful, and he looked away as he spoke. “Claiming a soul binds that life to yours. Over time, and with distance, that bond can fade, but it can also grow stronger. I’ve claimed more human souls than I can count. More names than I could ever remember. But there was once a time when such bonds didn’t terrify me. That was very long ago.”

In that haze of pain and exhaustion, I’d heard the arguments. The shadowy figure — Lucifer — demanding my soul be claimed. Callum’s voice breaking when he realized it was his only choice to save me.

“Did it terrify you? Claiming me?” Callum’s head snapped toward me at my question, and I flinched.

“Yes,” he said, after a long pause.

“Then why did you do it?”

His expression fractured, and I felt it. A pang of uncertainty shot through my chest like a bolt. Then came the rolling wave of fear, a ripping terror that could hardly be encompassed by words, so shockingly intense I gasped.

The feelings left me as suddenly as they appeared, and Callum said, “That’s part of it…the emotions. For most humans, it would merely be a hint of my feelings, but your magic amplifies it. What I feel may bleed over to you and vice versa.”

He still hadn’t answered, but it was clearly on his mind. He looked as if he were trying to solve a puzzle, and his frown didn’t dissipate until he met my eyes again.

In the blink of an eye, he was standing over me, with his hands braced against the edge of the tub.

My eyes drifted over him with appreciation. The lean muscles, tight with anticipation. The hard set of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes. My brain turned to mush every time I saw that taut, lickable chest…

Lickable? Oh, God, Everly, get yourself together, girl.

“I have no reason to live without you,” he said, his sharp teeth clenched. “Perhaps what I’ve done was incredibly selfish, but I would save your life again. I swore to protect you, and now, I’m bound by the demands of our bargain to do so. No matter what it takes. No matter what I must sacrifice. No matter who I must kill. For you, I would burn this world and the next.”

His words snatched the air from my lungs. It was impossible to disbelieve the sincerity in his voice, the viciousness. His hands tightened on the edges of the tub, and I jumped when a crack appeared on the porcelain edge. He winced, standing up slowly as he clenched and unclenched his fingers.

“Whether you choose to stay in this house, or leave, I will follow you,” he said. “If you choose to face the God, or don’t, I will be by your side. Whether or not you can find it in yourself to trust me, I will not leave you. This obsession might mean the death of me, but that is an end I will meet gladly. Humans have their deities, their great and powerful gods, guiding them to live and die. I have you.”

Words were completely lost to me. I could only stare at him, this powerful being who seemed so much larger than life, who vibrated with a deep and ancient energy. My demon. My protector.

From within the pocket of his trousers, Callum withdrew a corked glass vial, filled with honey-colored liquid. “Your grandmother prepared this. She said it should be applied to your wounds, to help them heal. If you would allow me.”

Nodding, I stepped out of the bath. Black eyes seared my skin as I reached for a towel and dried myself, squeezing the water from my hair. The way he looked at me caused heat to pool in my abdomen.

Glimpsing myself in the large, framed mirror leaning against the wall beside the tub, I paused. I tried not to pay too much attention to my looks. I’d never had Victoria’s grace or seemingly effortless beauty. I didn’t have much skill with makeup, and honestly didn’t like wearing it. I’d always been plain; painfully average. Too tall and too skinny, as Meredith frequently pointed out to me. Jeremiah used to say I looked like a giraffe, and that insult still lived on my hunched shoulders, as if I could make myself smaller.

Now, with scars on my body and bruises on my arms, I didn’t know how Callum could look at me like that. When he looked like a Greek statue brought to life, not even his scars could diminish his looks.

Biting my lip, I turned away from my reflection. That mirror would have to go, so I wouldn’t have to see myself every damn time I came in here.

Callum stepped closer behind me, taking the towel and tossing it aside. He wrapped his arms around me and I fought the urge to hide my face.

“Why do you look at yourself with disdain?” he said, his tone truly confused. “As if any part of you is shameful. As if this beautiful body wasn’t perfectly designed to appeal to every single one of my senses. This soft skin, tender and warm.” His lips brushed against my ear, while his claws caressed up my arm. “The sound of your voice, sweet as a siren. The sight of you is enough to make me a beast with need. And the smell of you…” He gripped me tightly, sinking with me to his knees on the thick rug in front of the mirror. As I knelt before him, he leaned close over my back. “Intoxicating. The taste of you?” His forked tongue stroked along my neck, his eyes closing for a moment. “Divine.”

He uncorked the bottle of golden liquid and poured some of it over his fingers. His hands moved slowly over my abdomen, working the oil over the scabbed cuts. It was a firm touch, but gentle enough not to hurt my wounds.

“These scars are our bond,” he said. He watched me in the mirror, fascination softening his dark eyes. “They tell the story of your survival. They’re the regalia of a warrior.”

It was impossible to tear my eyes away from the sight of his hands caressing my skin. His movements were so slow, so reverent.

“Gorgeous, every inch of you,” he murmured. “I adore the way you react to me, the sounds you make, the way you feel. So soft and yet so strong.”

His words filled me with a warm feeling, and I squirmed, unable to bear looking in the mirror a moment longer. But he immediately reached up, grabbing my face and pulling my gaze back.

“Don’t look away,” he said. “You’re exquisite.”

He dipped his fingers into the oil again, then lifted his hand, allowing it to drip over my chest. Shining droplets streaked over my breasts, and his fingers chased them, grasping me and squeezing. This gentle appreciation, the tenderness of his hold, was so unfamiliar to me it was overwhelming.

He hummed gently, his body rocking against mine. His hard length pressed against my back, tenting his trousers. I longed for the brutal ache of him inside me, demolishing every thought until nothing was left but pleasure.

“Relax,” he said. “You’re safe with me.”

He massaged me, moving from my stomach to my breasts, then my shoulders, my back. I was jelly in his hands, nearly limp as he moved me.

“I can feel your anxiety,” he said, speaking close to my ear. “How it sits inside you like a knot, how your brain feeds it lies to keep it alive. Let me help you.”

Everything felt so new, so unfamiliar, so strange. And yet…

“I trust you,” I said. He met my gaze in the mirror, and his eyes made me think of the sky just before dawn. Those deep depths kissed with light and warmth.

“Do you trust me to give you pleasure?” he said. “Or to give you pain?”

“Both.”

I wanted every experience he could give me. I’d spent my life behind locked doors, and now those doors were flung open, and I intended to indulge gluttonously.

An eager grin revealed his sharp teeth.

“Stay where you are,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

He vanished, the absence of his arms leaving me cold. He returned, carrying something in his hand.

A leather flogger with numerous soft tassels.

My eyes widened as he dragged the brown leather tails through his fingers.

“There is an entire world of sensation waiting for you,” he said. He trailed the flogger across my shoulders. “A spectrum between pleasure and pain that you cannot even imagine. I intend to show you all of it. To guide you on a journey of indulgence toward whatever bliss you desire.”

He guided me so that my back was resting against his legs. Slowly, teasingly, he caressed the tassels over my breasts, igniting a storm of goosebumps across my skin. I shivered when the leather brushed over my nipples, the buds swiftly hardening.

With a gentle hand on the back of my head, Callum pushed me forward. “Brace your hands on the mirror’s frame,” he said. “Watch while I use this flogger on your back. See how beautiful you look, how every expression on your face is a masterpiece.”

Part of me wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment. He couldn’t mean it, not truly, because I was —

“Everly.” His voice was sharp as he leaned over me. “Get those thoughts out of your head. You’re not allowed to disparage yourself.”

My face turned red, but I forced myself not to look away as he stepped back. He used the flogger lightly at first, tapping it against my back and trailing it up my spine. When he brought it down with a little more force, I gasped.

“How does it feel?” he said, swinging the flogger in his hand as he waited for my response.

Meeting his eyes in the mirror, I said, “Amazing. That feels amazing.”

I lost track of time. The flogger’s soft tails nipped at my back — sometimes sharp, sometimes heavy, sometimes teasingly soft. Callum wielded the tool like it was an extension of his arm. Every time I looked away from my own reflection and back at him, I found his eyes fixed on my face.

Watching me, learning my reactions. He would bring the flogger down, then he would pace, keeping his eyes on my face all the while. The soft sound of his feet brushing over the wooden floor made my back prickle with anticipation. The skin on my shoulders was already bright red.

Warm and tenderized, like a feast prepared to be eaten.

The flogger snapped, stinging like a million tiny pinpricks. I cried out, a loud moan more than a scream.

The flogger was tossed aside. Callum ran his fingers through my hair, pulling it back out of my face so he could touch my cheek. My arms shook, still braced against the mirror’s frame.

“There you are, darling,” he said. He cupped my chin, lifting my face, as he crouched behind me. His wings framed me as if they were my own. “Look at yourself. Look at your eyes, how soft they are. Look at your mouth.” He traced his thumb over my lip. Without thinking, I opened my mouth for his finger, letting him press down on my tongue as I suckled softly. “All your worries, all your fears, cannot hold you forever. But I can. And I fully intend to.”

I barely recognized my own face. So close to the mirror, my eyes appeared more black than blue, more demon than human.

Lowering my trembling arms, I braced them on the floor and arched my back, pressing myself against his hard length. His fingers were still in my mouth, and I stroked my tongue over them, holding his gaze.

The light in his eyes became an inferno. With quick, sudden movements, he seized the nape of my neck and bent me forward, so my cheek was pressed against the soft rug. He pulled up my hips, bringing me to my knees, bent over with my ass pressed against him. I was positioned at such an angle that I could still see myself in the mirror, squirming against him with a desperate need.

“Be a good girl,” he warned me. “Ask nicely for what you want.”

“You gave me pain,” I said. “Now I want pleasure.”

He scratched his claws up my reddened back. “I want you to watch yourself while I fuck you, Everly. If you look away…” His grin turned truly wicked. “I’ll punish you.”

His words were twisting me into knots of arousal, so desperate I wanted to whine, squirm, beg — but he’d already beaten all the fight out of me.

As he entered me, my pupils swelled, dark pools consuming the blue of my eyes until it was merely a slim ring. I was unable to stop the moan he forced out of me as he sheathed himself fully inside.

God, it was — this was —

“Holy shit, you feel so…so good.” My words shook, my pitch keening higher. He was so deep inside me, the pain should have been far worse. But I was soaking wet, tingling with magic, my body so relaxed that the ache of him filling me up was stunning.

He watched me in the mirror as he drew himself out before slowly filling me. Again and again, those slow thrusts drove me wild.

“Callum, that’s — Oh, God, you’re going to make me —”

“You’re not coming yet.” He chuckled, his hips tight against me, buried in me. “Not until I say. Not until I’ve fucked every last whimper out of you. You won’t have a brain left in your head when I’m done with you.”

As if he knew every nerve and weakness in my body, he made good on his word. Every time I thought I was going to tip over that blissful edge into orgasm, he pulled me back.

But only barely. Only just enough that I was teetering on the edge, moaning with abandon. My body was alight, and every touch, every movement, every word felt so delicious.

The demon hummed appreciatively. “That’s what I like to see. Not a thought behind those eyes besides how fucking good you feel.” He pulled my wild hair out of my face, tenderly stroking my cheek. “I swore to take care of you, Everly. In every single way you need caring for.”

I was trembling on the edge, desperate for release but too tired to fight for it. He played my body with the same ease he’d played the piano, my pleasure rising to an impossible crescendo. He pulled me up, wrapping his arm around my chest and grasping my throat. I was overcome by the sight of myself held tightly against him, his claws piercing into my skin, my abdomen bulging slightly with every thrust of his cock.

His voice was deep enough to shake my bones as he said, “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. Even when this world is nothing more than ash and dust, your soul will belong to me.” His black eyes stared into mine, and I was falling deeper, deeper into that endless void. “Other humans would break from taking me like this. It’s like you’re made for me, crafted by fate itself.”

He grasped my chin, keeping my head up. Lost in need, I opened my mouth and whimpered, placated only when he pressed two fingers onto my tongue. Closing my lips around him, I savored the primal taste of flesh and sweat. My vision blurred.

His hand moved between my legs. The touch of his fingers as he thrust inside me was all it took. My body coiled, gasping and weeping from the sheer overwhelm of it all. I could feel his thick cock pump inside me as he came, filling me until he dripped down my thighs.