Page 56 of Black Willow Witch
She didn’t challenge his claim, though. Instead, she opened the door wider. ‘I have time.’
Some of his pent-up tension slipping from his shoulders, he accepted her silent invitation and walked inside. The energy of the house – all interwoven with her own – put him further at ease, soothing the sharp edges of his mood.
‘Follow me,’ she said.
He didn’t even try not to admire her ass as they walked. He’d given up on that – it was a waste of energy.
Entering the consultation room, Ripper watched as she lit an incense burner, filling the air with the scent of sandalwood. He glanced around, noticing the many changes. Millicent’s possessions and presence had given the space a dank and creepy feel. There’d been pockets of shadow all over. He’d always felt cautious on entering. That off-putting vibe was gone.
There was color in the form of gemstones, rock quartz, golden goblets and candles. The air was fresh and smelled of the bunches of dry flowers and herbs dangling from the ceiling. Everything seemed to glimmer – the shelves, the altar, the stools, the cast-iron cauldron, the soft-cream walls, the wooden floor.
The room put you at ease. Drew you in. Tempted you to come closer.
Just like the witch currently bustling around it, collecting this or that.
He claimed the stool near the stone fireplace just as she began laying things out on the altar. An athame, jars, a clay pot, abottle, a few petals and a weirdly shaped leaf that had been left on the windowsill near small potted plants.
But no book of shadows.
‘You already checked the formula for the elixir?’
At the sink, she filled a large chalice with water. ‘No need. I make these all the time.’ Returning to the altar, she poured the water into the cauldron and set down the chalice. ‘I just need to ensure yours is stronger.’
She chanted, magick dust drifting from her palms and into the water. Water that began to simmer. Bubble. Steam.
She was boiling it without fire, he realized. He’d seen Millicent do the same.
‘The best way to do that would be to use a drop of your blood.’ She winged up a brow. ‘Any objections?’
‘I’ll be drinking my own blood?’
‘Not exactly. It’s not like with cooking. These ingredients will make a potion. Magick converts the potion into liquid power.’
‘Millicent never explained it that way.’
Emberlyn gave a small shrug. ‘She preferred to be mysterious. I, on the other hand, like to be transparent where magick is concerned. So, you gonna let me use your blood or not? I don’tneedto. It’ll just be quicker this way. But if you wanna be a pussy . . .’
He felt his brows hike up. ‘A pussy?’
Humor swam in her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me the big, bad Alpha werewolf can’t deal with having his finger pricked.’
‘I wasn’t actually going to object,’ he said, holding out his hand toward her.
A dart of magick burst out of her finger and touched his. A bead of blood surfaced on his skin, and that same bead flowed on a glittering current of magick right into the cauldron.
‘That didn’t hurt,’ he noted, surprised he hadn’t felt a thing.
‘Because I didn’t want it to hurt you.’ She pulled a stopper from a small bottle and peppered some black powder into the bubbling water.
He folded his arms. ‘So, Millicent taught you how to make this elixir?’
‘No, it was my creation originally. She tweaked it to give it more of a punch, though.’
A line tugged at his brow. ‘She told me she created it accidentally.’
Emberlyn smiled, crushing a leaf in her palm. ‘She liked her stories. Don’t be so sure she always told you the truth.’
‘Why do I get the feeling it was more that she didn’t think it good for people to know how strong you were?’
