Page 72 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

He didn’t elaborate any further, and I wondered what he was up to, but I trusted him. He wouldn’t ask me to come if it wasn’t important.

“Okay,” I said.

Even if our relationship was fake, I couldn’t deny how good it felt to let someone into my life like this. The truth of it was that I was starting to crave his time, his attention. I was actually starting to look forward to our dates rather than dread them.

I wondered what it would be like after I broke up with Nevan, and I immediately shoved that thought to the farthest reaches of my mind. I couldn’t go there. Not right now. I just wanted to enjoy this. Enjoy him.

He pulled me into him, and I rested my head on his chest.

His heart thumped like a steady drumbeat. I’d never heard anyone’s heart before, never been close enough to anyone to lay my head on their chest. Ambrose and I certainly never cuddled. We had sex and maybe said a few words to each other before or after, and then he was gone until the next month.

I’d never craved more than that.

Godwitches, I hoped I knew what I was doing with Nevan.

I swallowed back my fear, eyes growing heavier and heavier, and my last thought before I sank into sleep was that I never wanted this day to end.

* * *

I awoke to my flowers swatting my cheek with their leaves, all of them bent over me, their eyes widened in alarm.

“Ow,” I said groggily, looking over to see Nevan still fast asleep. “Stop that.” The flowers straightened, eyeballs turning and staring at something in the distance.

I rose and crouched behind their tall stems, parting them and trying to see what they were warning me about.

“Where could the bitch be?” a voice yelled, and I stiffened.

It was those damn humans again. Even more of them this time. They carried blazing torches and walked across the marshy land on the other side of the channel.

“If she was dead, we should’ve found some evidence by now,” one of them said. “Bones, blood, anything.”

“Not if she died years ago,” someone else said.

Bald Man sniffed. “I don’t think she’s dead. Her whole damn cottage disappeared. What does that sound like to you idiots?”

Broken Nose crouched, swiping a finger along the water’s surface. “I think we all know what’s going on here. She’s used some kind of magic, which she shouldn’t be able to do.”

“We’ll have to tell them about this,” Bald Man said, swiveling around and swinging his torch. “They’ll want to know that an entire cottage disappeared.”

I stiffened, wondering who had this sudden interest in me. It could’ve been their overlords . . . or it could be someone more sinister . . . like the brotherhood.

Broken Nose scratched his head. “You sure you want to tell them about this? We could just lie, get some random bones and say they’re hers.”

I snorted.

Bald Man scowled. “They’re not idiots, and if she’s got control over some kind of powerful magic, they’ll want it.”

“Maybe,” Broken Nose said. “Or maybe we should take that magic. Why shouldn’t we? If she’s found a way to make her cottage and bog invisible, that’s powerful. That’s something we could use.”

A few of the others murmured their agreement.

I rolled my eyes. If they were after this magic, they’d have a hard time getting it. Unless they wanted an entire city to land on their village. From experience, I could tell them they absolutely did not want that.

The nitwits wandered around a bit more, probably looking for my remains, but I didn’t dare cross the barrier of Fairwitch to confront them today.

I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing that if I were alone, I wouldn’t hesitate to scare them off. To use my magic. But I didn’t want Nevan to see that side of me, the monstrous side.

And that was just another reminder that I could never be my true self with him, that this was all an illusion. Same as it was with Ambrose.