Page 8 of Resurrecting the Witch
“I am not a mortal man or a human boy, or any number of mundane magick wielders you have heard of. I know what I want, and what I want right now is to get to know every part of you, my fiery Cliona.”
She didn’t answer, but her throat bobbed as she took in what I was saying.
“I knew he’d show up!” a male voice sounded as footsteps approached our booth.
I couldn’t stop the soft snarl that escaped at the interruption and had to do my own counted breathing. Since I’d awoken, my fae emotions were… strong, to say the least. Everything about me was stronger really. It was part of what brought me to Haven Pass, to Dr. Luna and this program. I had gotten better since coming here but sometimes I still slipped up and turned a bit feral. Not even acknowledging the new magick I woke up with and was still learning about.
I found my mate, and even if this young man meant no harm, I would need to rein it in a bit. Unless Cliona liked a possessive mate? I looked over to her and the blatant annoyance on her face at my snarl wasn’t what I wanted; I wouldn’t be a mate she couldn’t take in public. I would show her how I could be trusted with her in any space, so she’d be proud of me, even from unsuspecting little bastards who didn’t know how to mind their own feckin’ business.
“You were right, Merrick,” Cliona replied and tugged a strand of her inky-black hair behind her ears. How did she know his name already? I didn’t like it. “All freaked out for nothing, I suppose. I’m sorry again about the water and us having to change tables. You handled that well; I’ll be sure to tell Drew all about it.” She winked and then smiled at the boy, and I could have wept at the sight. Her round cheeks formed the cutest dimples and if a smile could truly light up a room, they must have written the saying about Cliona’s.
Also, she knew Drew Hemlock, which bode well for me since he was in my Alpha Group, and I considered him a friend. Which means that this boy,Merrick, what kind of dumb name is that anyway, smiled back at her as if she were smiling for him. Wait, was she? No, that was for me, surely.
Right?
“I told you it’s seriously no biggie, Cliona,” he said her name like he knew her and paused to look over at me.
His eyes widened a bit and took me in, clearly impressed by my form and realized I could kill him in a matter of seconds if he challenged me for Cliona’s affections. Shifters weren’t typically a problem for fae or for witches, but I didn’t want him to doubt my ability to kill him with one punch to his gut, so I narrowed my eyes until he took the hint. He turned away quickly.
“So, uh, what can I get y’all to drink tonight?”
“Do you like red or white,mo grá?” I asked before giving her a chance to answer.
I wanted to show her I could take care of her and help her make decisions. She needed someone to take control for her, at least for little things, which must have been why we were matched. I liked to take care of my partner, and now that I knew she was my mate, Ineededto. She was a beyond powerful witch, but I could show her some stability and hopefully ease some of her many burdens. It was coming off her aura in waves, and even without my abilities, I’d have known what my mate needed.
She needed someone to be there for her, with the small things and the big things.
“Red,” she said and turned her eyes down to the menu, something going through her mind I didn’t like.
I immediately began plotting the murder for whoever made my Cliona into this sometimes fiery and fierce and then sometimes quiet and unsure witch. The vibrant, powerful female I already caught glimpses of would come back out for me no matter what it took, I silently vowed.
“We’ll have a bottle of your most requested red for the table, Merrick,” I said to the lad, who nodded in agreement. “Please,” I added and offered him a smile I tried not to show other males, but this was a different time and a different place. And he was just a pup, after all.
He scurried away, and I looked at my beautiful date and swore I saw unshed tears in her eyes. She didn’t look sad, but then a tear escaped the corner of her eye, and I felt her regret over the tear come as she tried to dab it away without me noticing.
I reached to swipe it away from her cheek from across the table and felt my power intertwine with hers again. She wasn’t as overwhelmed with it as earlier, but something was definitely bothering her. She took another few deep breaths. Something wasn’t right, this wasn’t like any first date I had seen on the shows we watched, most of which were more awkward than emotionally painful. I knew I had some baggage seeing as up until last year I was dead in the dirt, but this was not the same type of pain I got from Cliona. She said it had been a while, but I wasn’t going to let my mate sit in silent tears while we ate pasta that I didn’t even make her myself.
“Tell me what you are thinking, Cliona. Please,” I nearly begged. “I can’t stand my beautiful female crying and not being able to rip out someone’s throat to make it better.”
I don’t know if that was romantic, but it was the truth. I would murder for her in a heartbeat, therefore, honesty. I made a note to tell Dr. Luna about all of the honesty tomorrow as well.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered and actually laughed a bit after taking another deep breath. “I was not expecting all of these emotions to come up just from a date.”
I didn’t let the sting of her referring to me as nothing more thanjusta date hurt too deep, she didn’t know who she was to me yet, and that was fine.
“I wasn’t going to bring this up, but this isn’t only my first date in a long time, this is my first date in almost five years. My… my fiancé—well, ex-fiancé, or just plain dead fiancé, I guess… whatever. Semantics.” She looked back up to me. “He died. Or, more accurately, I slit his throat.”
Feck me. Simultaneous emotions of sadness for the death and blood jumping into my cock at the thought of her slitting anyone’s throat fought against me.
“After he and his traitorous, vile, filthy family came here and killed all of mine.”
My cock deflated at the rest of her words, and I completely froze, unsure of what to say by the implications. “By yours, do you mean your coven or your blood?”
“Both,” she said, and my heart broke as I practiced my own breathing exercises through the instant rage I felt as the grief poured out of her through her magick.
I’m not sure she even noticed the atmosphere changing when she let herself acknowledge her pain. She managed to clear the tears that silently fell without too much fuss. It must have been something she’d been working through for a while if that was the case because while I felt the pain she shared with me, it was duller than a fresh wound, but still potent in a way only the most tragic of things could be.
“I’m proud of you for sharing your pain with me,” I said and got up from my seat to join her on her side of the booth. It was a half-circle situation, but I wanted to sit on the outside so she could feel protected.
