Page 7 of Resurrecting the Witch
“I didn’t want to come on this date either, but now that I am here, I want to rip my own throat out for ever thinking of not coming here to meet you.” I paused and saw her consider my words, so I continued. “I’m trying to think of how I can convince you that I am worthy of this date. Tell me,mo grá, how can I make myself worthy of your time? I will do whatever it requires. Just tell me who to kill or who to maim or which lands need to be seized.”
She slapped my hand playfully and chuckled at my last sentence. It wasn’t an exaggeration. She simply had to tell me to jump, and I would do anything for her. The power she had over me so quick should alarm me, but I found the need to prove myself to her deep in my bones.
“It’s not you who isn’t worthy, Patrick.”
She dismissed my worry like it was nothing. She would have to learn to take me seriously eventually, and I would gladly put in the time to make her realize I am overly honest and transparent. I don’t spin my words.
“It’s obvious I’m not in the best place to meet anyone right now. I doubt I’m even your type based on how you walked in here like a romance cover model. Or does your type happen to be overly emotional, goth chicks with anger management issues and a tendency to kick someone in the balls if they look at her wrong?” The challenge in her eyes and the idea she would kick anyone in the balls for looking at her wrong made my cock twitch.
Not. My. Type.I couldn’t help the hearty, genuine laughter that broke free from my lips.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. But that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, woman. Why wouldn’t you be my type? That’s mighty presumptive of you, isn’t it, witchling?” I asked while staring directly into her eyes with a level of intensity I tried to refrain from with most mortals.
I knew she was powerful beneath her worried exterior and wasn’t a mortal at all. The fact she thought she might be able to walk away from this table was cute. The fact that she thought I wasn’t pleased with her made me want to bend her over my knee and reprimand her for thinking such a thing, and I think she saw that promise in my gaze. I stored that thought for later.
“Presumptive?”
I felt her skin heat beneath my touch and I tried to ease her worries with my touch.
“You have a lot of nerve to sit here and—” she started to argue and then paused to take a deep breath. I saw the numbers form on her lips as she inhaled, held, and exhaled.
“That’s a good girl.” I couldn’t stop the praise even though I realized it might be a bit early for that if she genuinely thought I didn’t want her, so I squeezed her hand for emphasis and smiled at her.
Cliona blushed again immediately, and she was even more beautiful. She already liked my praise, and I felt her magick settle from crazed and volatile to something more pliant and calm… right before the peaceful ease of her power surged into something else entirely, a rage I felt so quick and the gray in her eyes disappeared almost completely and the green took over, bleeding into the white outer parts.
“Don’t youevercall me a good girl again, Patrick, or I swear to the goddess and all the elements I will—” She stopped herself mid-sentence, and her eyes flared wide in shock.
I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my entire face at her ferocity or the tickle of her magick against my hand that still held hers. It would have hurt a mortal, probably burned their flesh right off their bones, but my flesh was already dead, and it did nothing to me. She looked down at our joined hands and made to jerk hers back as if she actually hurt me, but I held tight.
“Oh wow, I’m so sorry. I don’t think I’ve lost control of my magick like that in…” She paused and sighed again. My witchling had so many bloody emotions at all times, she must be exhausted. She lifted her eyes from our intertwined fingers and looked at me again. “Well, if I’m being honest. My magick has been a little… well, that’s not something I want to talk about right now since we just met, but I am going through some things with my magick, so I apologize if I hurt you.”
“You could only hurt me if you left before this date was over,mo peata.”
“Good girl? Pet? You really are laying it on thick, Patrick.” She paused and sighed, slumping her shoulders a bit in the exhale. “If it isn’t painfully obvious, I don’t really dothisa whole lot.” She waved her free hand between us.
“It is painfully obvious,” I confirmed, smirking at the blush of her cheeks again that contrasted so beautifully with the rebellious spark in her eyes. My Cliona was trying so hard to stifle her nature, it made me sad for her and I squeezed her hand once more before letting it go. She was embarrassed and it might make me an arse, but I liked that I had this influence on her.
“However, if it makes you feel any better, this is my first official date in a very long time too.”
Her mouth opened in shock at my truth. “You lie.”
“My brothers would strike me back into the ground if they caught me lying to a beautiful female, let alone one I plan on courting.”
I decided she would get the full honest version of me from the start. Dr. Luna had mentioned not sharing our entire histories on the first date, so I wouldn’t completely overwhelm her with my entire sorted history and my role in the fae wars she probably heard of in her own history lessons, but I definitely wouldn’t hold back from her either. I sensed my witchling valued honesty and I wouldn’t lie to her in any way if I could help it.
“Back into?” Cliona asked and her eyes sparkled with intrigue, picking up on that little detail.
“Yes. I was awoken from my grave last Samhain.”
She didn’t balk but did narrow her eyes at me, probably looking to see if I had any decaying flesh.
“And yes, I can tell you more about that later. For now, tell me about yourself. I haven’t met with a witch in, well, a long time. The witches I knew from back home never had as much magick as I can feel from you, or tried to keep it down as hard as you do. You are so powerful I can feel the earth itself bubbling beneath your skin. But I can also feel that even though you’re quaking with power you seem so unsure of it.” It was probably more forward than a first date called for, but Dr. Luna could suck it (another modern term I have picked up and loved to use whenever I could, sometimes even when it didn’t call for it). I mostly wanted to see the well of power rise in her again and again to challenge me. I would gladly take the brunt of it if it meant she could let go for a bit.
“Well, you definitely aren’t shy, are you?” The left side of her mouth lifted, and her shoulders settled another half inch. I was making progress. My feisty little witch was fierce under these layers of worry and contempt she wore like armor. I was perfect for her; she couldn’t break me even if she tried.
“If you were expecting a m—” I stopped myself before saying the word mate.
I wanted to be direct but not scare the poor female. I knew witches had mates of a certain kind as well, so she knew the importance of what a mate bond meant so at least I wouldn’t have to convince her. Was she already feeling it too? Or was it different for witches? Maybe Dr. Luna would know as a witch himself.
