Page 97 of The Knucker King

Trewoofe vaguely registered Ashling landing on his horn.

He looked further down. The dress was simple – more of a shift – and draped around her curves loosely. It was cut low, revealing her impressive cleavage. He had not seen so much of her smooth skin since her state of undress a few days prior, and how he longed to run his tongue over her again.

His mouth watered and his cock hardened beneath his hose.

Avice stood on her tiptoes and waved her hand in front of his face, the scar that started at her wrist glittered in glow from the hearth. “Lord?”

Trewoofe blinked. “Yes?”

“Are you alright?”

He nodded. “Will you turn around?”

She giggled at that. “Why?”

“When I see a beautiful wildflower, I wish to admire it from all angles.”

She blushed and looked down to her bare feet.

He cupped her chin and tilted it up. “Do not shy away from me, I want to see you.” He weakened at the knees as Avice beamed up at him. “Show me,” Trewoofe purred.

She nodded and stepped back from his touch. She slowly spun and showed him her back. Trewoofe’s erection pressed painfully against the fabric restraining it, and he subtly adjusted himself when she was not looking. He had never seen so much of her skin from behind. The shift dipped low on her back, almost to her waist. He was drawn to the ink along her spine and ghosted his claws down the pattern until it dipped below her dress.

Avice giggled and rolled her shoulders. “Tickles…”

“What is it?” he asked, studying the swirls and knots.

There were stylistic images embedded into her skin. The tattoo had impressions of ocean waves, blossoming trees, kissed by hints of beasts from the land and sea. A suggestion of the scales of a snake, the feathers of a bird, and the eyes of a wolf.

With every blink, he saw more.

“A sigil,” she replied.

“Si-gil,” he repeated. “Is this for your witching?”

“Yes. It has one function.” She spun to face him. “To pull power from the Good Neighbours.”

Trewoofe frowned at that. The magic that flowed through some Faeries was lethal.

“Is that not dangerous?” he asked, cupping her cheek.

“Very. For humans, all magic has a price.” She covered his hand with hers. “I must be close to a willing Faerie for it to work, and their magic must be compatible with the outcome I wish to achieve. It is why I came to you to save the children. The reason I use my medicines, make bargains with the Good Neighbours, carry my iron blade, and have Bramble with me most of the time.”

“Then why have it at all?”

Avice shrugged. “The Gardener women have always had it. It was what eventually drove my Aunt Agnes to her funeral pyre. She pulled power from…” Her eyes drifted to Bramble, who quickly looked away. Grim’s were hounds of shadow and night. She had no idea why her aunt had pulled from him on the day she died. It had never been safe to do so. “…to save Father Richard with his failing heart, and that last use killed her.”

“Who is Father Richard?” Trewoofe asked, running his thumb along her chin.

“The old priest, but then he got sent away,” Avice explained.

His expression sharpened. “Are you a pulling from Bramble tonight?”

I would never agree to that again! the Grim barked.

Avice smiled softly at her familiar before turning back to Trewoofe.

“There is your answer.” She ran her fingers up his arms. “Tonight, I am pulling on the magic from the Good Neighbours who come to my garden. It will not end my life.”