Page 70 of Wicked Curses
It was a dumb question considering he didn’t see any blood on the floor and the furniture was back where it belonged, but he wasn’t ready for bed yet and enjoyed looking at her. This image would serve him well when he was jerking off later, something he was growing increasingly tired of doing.
Something had to break between them soon.
“I did. It gave me far more laundry than I wanted. I’ve been putting off doing it, but I’ll have to go to the river and do some washing tomorrow.”
“I haven’t been in a while either. I’ll go with you.”
She gave him a disbelieving look. “I can go alone.”
“You can, but I have a whole basketful to do too. Besides, it’s probably best if you don’t go alone anywhere so secluded for at least a little while.”
Her jaw tightened, and her eyes sparked with anger, but she didn’t protest his words. She might not like what he said, or the constraints on her, but it was the truth.
The witches and warlocks had always looked down on her and liked her less now. Sure, she had other immortals to help keep her safe, but that wouldn’t do her any good if she went to the river alone and they sought revenge.
He couldn’t help her if she was dead.
“But by the time I get done at the library tomorrow, you’ll have to be on the bar,” she said.
“Tomorrow is my day off. I’ll meet you at the library when your shift ends.”
Before she could protest, he unfolded himself from the door and rose to his full height. “Good night, Sahira.”
He started to walk away, but her next words stopped him. “Orin.” He turned back as she stepped into the doorway. “Thank you for helping me last night.”
“How much did youhatesaying that?”
She scowled at him. “A lot more now.”
Orin grinned as he waved and walked a few steps backward before turning and retreating into his room. He shouldn’t care what happened to the witch—she was strong enough to fight her own battles—but he didn’t like bullies, and that’s what the witches and warlocks in this realm had become.
He couldn’t let her go anywhere she might be vulnerable to them, at least not for a little while. Eventually, things would settle down again, but he’d never trust them around her.
He kept telling himself he only cared because they would technically be family soon, and Lexi would have a dragon fry his ass if something happened to her aunt, but that wasn’t entirely true.
Truth be told, he’d grown to like Sahira a little, and there were so few immortals he liked. He didn’t want to see something happen to one of them.
Besides, it wouldn’t be any fun if she died before he got the chance to fuck her.
CHAPTERFORTY-NINE
She wasn’t expectingOrin to show up, and she definitely wasn’t expecting him to arrive with a laundry basket tucked under his arm. As he sauntered down the street, nodding greetings to some and grinning at any witches and warlocks he passed, she couldn’t help admiring the confidence he exuded, even if his arrogant attitude often grated onallher nerves.
She also couldn’t stop admiring how the dark fae’s green pants hugged his thighs and revealed an enticing bulge. Shifting her gaze away didn’t help, as she was confronted with the carved muscles in the forearms bared by his black tunic.
She’d never known arms could be so hot and resisted fanning herself when he waved at a witch. Hunger had become an ever-increasing, festering part of her, but he remained unfazed. He still looked great even if what he said about not being with other women since her arrival was true.
Hell, he had aspringin his step. He looked carefree, and she felt like someone had settled the world onto her shoulders and told her to carry it.
Maybe he’d lost a couple of pounds, and if she looked closely, she could see it in his face, but he didn’t look like he was about to jump on the next woman and start screwing her. She was getting close to a point where she might jump on someone and start feeding on them.
Tugging at the collar of her shirt, she tried to deny that she was heading toward desperate times as she turned her gaze to the gardens, but it was true. Food had stopped being enough to keep her sated; she required blood, and soon.
Tearing her gaze away from the gardens, she focused on Orin again. She hadn’t expected to see him carrying a laundry basket, never mindwashingthe clothes in it.
Then a sinking feeling settled in her stomach as he reached the porch steps. Resting his foot on the first stair, he gave a small bow and waved his hand elegantly at her. The man was in far better spirits than her.
“Good afternoon, witch.”
