Chapter Three

She made haste out of his room, the place he had held her still burning, her lies still burning on her lips.

She had seen no men?

What hunters?

By God, she had destroyed them all, cursed them all into abandon in a violent fit of rage, her curls running wild as the ground beneath them shook.

But she didn’t tell him and she wouldn’t tell him, for she had no desire to let him know that she was a witch. Neither did she have any desire to let him know that she was aware of what he was. Only God knew how those humans had even found out in the first place.

Nevertheless, the man would heal soon enough, and all their lives would be marginally back to normal, and hopefully, she wouldn’t have to deal with what mere contact with him igniting something within her could actually mean.

Or so she chose to believe. In the meantime, she was going to keep her witchcraft out of his way.

~•~•~

She brought him a bowl of soup and some bread which he finished in only minutes, and she looked at him troubled,

“Is this as a result of not eating for close to two days?”

He looked at her in surprise, immediately regretting how fast he had turned to face her,

“Two days?” He asked on a wince,

“36 hours.”

“Wow.” He said, running a hand over his hair, and she had to not her tongue to keep from peppering him with questions like,

“Where are you from?” “Where were you going ?” “Why were those humans after you?” “How did they find out you were a Lycan?”

But instead, she held herself and watched him while he thought. And as she did, she found herself taking note of every line, every dip, every curve of his face.

He had deeply hazel eyes and a chin full of beards. His hair fell over his forehead, giving him that fresh out-of-bed look. And she discovered that he was handsome, in a not-so-conventional way. But terrible appealing.

Troubled waters, Laylah. She warned herself and drew her eyes away from him to stare outside the window.

She didn’t fear being burnt to a stake. She was a powerful witch who knew how to protect herself. And for the most part, those who didn’t exactly accept what she was, steer clear of her. But even with all that, most witches weren’t accepted everywhere, and sometimes, not among some wolf packs.

And why she was even thinking about being accepted by a wolf pack boggled her mind, so that as a means of outrunning her thoughts, she got up abruptly, and so doing drew him away from his thoughts and toward her,

“Is something the matter?”

“No, why do you ask?” She asked, reaching for his used plates,

“Maybe it’s the way you’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She found a smile and shook her head,

“Not quite.” She gave him a glass of something green and the first thing he did was bring it to his nose.

Typical. She thought,

“It’s a home remedy and will help you feel better.” And watched him decide that it was good for drinking,

“Tastes better than it looks. And Why do I feel sleepy all of a sudden?” He said with a yawn and dropped the empty glass on his nightstand,

“Not all that is green has to taste like the bark of a tree. And you’re sleepy because it has high milk contents. And if you’re anything like me, and it seems like you are, then milk makes you sleepy.”

“I see.” He said, with his eyes already closed.

She didn’t leave until she heard his first snore and reached for the glass and headed for the door.

And with a last look at him, before she went out the door, said some incarnations to ward off evil, and then left.

~•~•~

She didn’t make it to the kitchen sink and dropped the plates and glass cup which she carried with her as the vision stole her.

Men, Mortal men, riding on horses, walking on foot, holding fire torches, while the snow melted against the ground. Blood and she didn’t know whose blood, staining the white of the snow.

Then she was in the present time, lying on the ground blood running down her nose, Dante standing guard over her, truly troubled by his mistress's disposition, but he had dm grown accustomed to her visions and what they did to her.

She didn’t understand them though, the visions and they were that way sometimes, fragments and pieces that took long hours of meditation to put together. But as of yet, none have been so gruesome.

None had left her with tears pooling from her eyes.