Chapter Ten The Witch in the Wood

Chapter Ten

The Witch in the Wood

Samara

"Samara," Lore said. His voice was near my ear, and his hand was on my shoulder. He nudged me gently as he spoke. "It's time to rise. We must be off."

"Go away," I said, burying my head under the blanket.

"Perhaps you should let her rest," said the fox. "You did keep her up half the night."

"Hold your tongue, Fox," Lore snapped before returning his attention to me.

"I agree with Fox," I mumbled. "Let me sleep."

"Has everyone forgotten that I too was up half the night?"

"Most men wouldn't complain," said the fox.

Lore growled.

"Don't you have a few rats to catch?" he snapped.

Suddenly, there was a sound like tearing vines, and a gust of cold air entered the small space.

"One would think you would be in a better mood given your night," said the fox. "Perhaps you should listen to your beloved . I think you could use a nap."

I sat up as Fox leapt out of the lean-to and into the gray morning to hunt for his food.

"That wasn't very nice," I said, meeting Lore's gaze.

"You are only saying that because he wanted to let you sleep."

"What is so wrong with sleeping a while longer?" I asked, but then my gaze fell to his mouth, and I leaned close, my lips brushing his as I spoke. "Or perhaps you are eager for something else?"

"Samara," he said, though I couldn't place the tone of his voice. It was almost pained, but that didn't make sense, not after the night we had shared. I closed the distance between us and kissed him. I was too new to feel very confident in how I moved, but I liked the way his mouth felt against mine, so I kept going, soft and slow, but then Lore kissed me back, harder this time and longer before pulling away.

"This is wrong," he said.

I couldn't quite describe how his words made me feel, but I thought that perhaps my heart was close to breaking. My chest hurt.

"What did you say?" I whispered, meeting his violet-eyed gaze.

"Samara," he whispered, pleading. "What happened last night cannot happen again. This love I have for you, it is a curse."

I knew I was Lore's enchantress, the source of his suffering, his so-called curse, but I thought after last night, he would realize the truth—he had never been cursed at all.

"You think what you feel for me isn't real?" I asked.

He just stared at me.

"You don't want to say, do you? Because the curse doesn't make sense if the feelings are real."

"I know you want things to be different," he said. "But I have told you the truth from the start."

I shook my head in disbelief and then rose to my feet. I crossed the room to change, pulling off his tunic as I went and tossing it to the ground. I slipped into my dress, turning to him as I tied the laces at the back.

"I pity you, Lore of Nightshade," I said. "Everyone in your life who was ever supposed to love you abandoned you, but it has made you so afraid of love, you cannot even recognize it when it's true."

If he wanted to continue this journey, then I would do that just to prove him wrong. I would waste a wish on a curse he had conjured in his mind to protect his heart. I would do it because I loved him, because despite how much this hurt, I wanted him.

* * *

We left the little shed behind not long after our fight.

I followed the fox into the forest while Lore lingered behind. There was a strange tension between us. It was nothing like I'd experienced before—not exactly angry, not exactly desire. For my part, it was a buildup of all the things I wanted to say but knew he would not hear.

I realized our beginning was full of horror, that for seven years, he had thought I had rejected him in the most violent way and assumed his love was not returned, but I had suffered as he had suffered. There were times when I too thought I was cursed.

But I knew deception. I had lived with it daily since the deaths of my mother and father, and this was not it.

"What troubles you, wild one?" asked the fox.

I did not answer for a few seconds as we made our way over the slippery ground. There was a fine mist in the air that kept everything wet, but it was nothing compared to the icy rain from yesterday.

"Lore prefers to think he is cursed rather than accept that his love for me is real," I said.

"That is the nature of curses," said the fox.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Anything can be real if you believe hard enough," said fox.

I didn't like the fox's words. "So you are on his side?"

"I am on no one's side, wild one," he replied. "But it will take more than just your love to break Lore's belief. It is not just that he believes he is cursed. He believes he is unworthy of love."

My throat felt tight as a wave of emotion crashed through me. I had forgotten, but the memories returned now.

Who says you are unworthy ? I had asked.

He had frowned as if he did not understand my question, as if it was a universal truth that the Prince of Nightshade was not deserving.

No one must say it for it to be true , he had replied.

"How do I make him feel worthy?" I asked.

"You cannot make anyone feel anything," said the fox.

"You are most unhelpful," I said.

"Why do you love Lore?" the fox asked instead.

At first, his question felt overwhelming as I thought of all the reasons, but then I considered how my love for him had only grown since entering the Enchanted Forest. How it had begun to burn hotter, fiercer than ever before, and I realized why.

"Because…he makes me feel safe," I said, and because of that, I had been able to let go of other feelings like fear. "How do I make him feel safe enough to love me?"

"I suppose," said the fox, "you just keep loving him."

We were silent after that as we continued through the forest, and it was not long before we came to a cottage with a pitched roof covered in thatch. A little fence surrounded it, and a path wound through a healthy garden to the door. I had never seen such a welcoming place.

Smoke rose from the chimney, and the air smelled like roasted pork. It made my mouth water, and I thought about how long it had been since I'd had a warm meal. My stomach growled, just as eager.

I started toward the house, surpassing Fox, when I felt something tug my skirt. It was the fox, who had taken hold of my hem to keep me back.

"Take heed, Samara," he said. "For we are in the presence of a witch. Do not trust your eyes."

A sliver of unease shivered down my spine and then moved through my entire body. At the fox's words, my gaze returned to the cottage, which was no longer so pleasant looking but cast in ruin. The roof was buckling, the garden was wilted, and the smoke smelled more like burning flesh.

In the yard between the house and the wood, a woman was bent at the waist, cutting grass with a sickle. Everything about her was gray, from her head to her toes, with the exception of a pair of black gloves. They reminded me of Lore's, though I doubted she wore them for the reasons he did.

"Do not speak in front of the witch," said the fox. "For if you do, she will refuse us refuge."

I had no trouble remaining silent or distant.

"Good woman," said the fox as he approached. She did not cease slicing blades of grass. "We are told you have eyes everywhere and know where the wishing tree will grow on the night of the first full moon."

"Of course, good fox," she said. Her words were cut with the snick of her sickle. "I can tell you where the wishing tree will appear on the night of the first full moon, but you must do me a favor, or none of you will ever leave this forest alive."

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Lore shifted closer to me, and I felt myself straighten.

"What favor, good woman?" asked the fox without fear.

"I have only a glass ax with which to chop wood and require a rick before morning. Go now and complete this errand, and I will tell you how to reach the wishing tree, but if you return the ax broken, you will die."

"I shall complete your task, good woman," said the fox. "But would you be willing to give my companions a place to sleep for the night?"

"I have only one bed," said the woman. "But the maiden may have it if she will help me cook, and the prince may sleep on the hay in the stables if he will cut this grass with my sickle."

"Thank you, good woman," said the fox.

She straightened stiffly and dropped the sickle on the ground.

"Follow me, pretty thing," she said.

Fear gripped me instantly, and Lore could not suppress his growl, which made the witch's face change. It was the briefest glimpse at her true self, a snarling creature with sharp teeth and eyes like pools of midnight oil.

"A moment, good woman," said the fox. "I want to say farewell to my companions for the night."

"A moment, of course," she said. "But then you are mine." She left then and entered her cottage.

Once she was inside, the fox turned to look at us. I wanted to beg not to be left alone with her, but the fox was quick to advise.

"You will survive the night if you listen to me. The woman will try to offer you food and drink, but do not take it, or you will fall into a deep sleep from which you will not wake." Then he looked at me. "Before you lay down to rest, stretch seven lengths of golden thread across the floor from the door to the bed."

I nodded and did not question why. After what happened to the nixie, I thought it best not to know.

"I will," I said.

"Good. I will see you at dawn."

The fox walked up to the glass ax which rested against the fence. There was a small clink as he took it into his mouth by the handle and trotted off toward the forest.

I watched until he vanished into the dark between the trees. When I turned, I found Lore watching me.

"I don't like this," he said.

I held his gaze. We were so close, our bodies almost touched.

"I will be okay so long as you are near," I said.

His brows lowered, and his mouth hardened. I did not understand how he could look at me this way, with so much emotion in his eyes, and still say what he felt for me wasn't real.

"I will keep you safe," he said, brushing his fingers along my cheek. His touch drew heat from the depths of my stomach, and I closed my eyes against it.

When I opened them again, my gaze slipped past Lore to the cottage where the witch looked out from her window, pale and hollow-eyed. Then I blinked, and she was gone.

"Samara?" Lore said, his voice hushed, as if he did not want for anyone else to hear. Perhaps he didn't.

"I should go," I said.

"Wait," he said, and pushed something into my hand. It was the golden thread.

"Thank you," I whispered as I slipped it into my pocket.

I stepped around him and headed toward the cottage, following the cobbled path as it twisted and turned through the garden. Like earlier, the cobbles at my feet were polished and new and the garden green and lush.

Do not trust your eyes , the fox had said, so I didn't and focused on other senses.

The cobbles beneath my feet felt broken and uneven, and the garden smelled musty and sweet. The cottage steps felt too soft and creaked beneath my feet. The handle of the door looked polished and shiny, but it felt rusty and rattled as I turned it.

When I entered the cottage, there was a lovely kitchen to the left and a small sitting area to the right. Everything appeared tidy and pristine. A fire blazed in the hearth before a long wooden table where there was an array of vegetables, potatoes, and pork, and though the cottage smelled like burning cedar, it could not mask the rancid smell of rotting meat or the pungent odor of spoiled potatoes.

"Come, pretty thing," said the witch from behind me.

I jumped at the sound of her voice and the feel of her gloved hand on my arm, which was slimy and cold, though it looked perfectly normal.

She pulled me into the kitchen. "Help me cook for your beloved, for that is what he is, is he not? Your beloved?"

I did not answer her, because the fox had said not to speak before her.

"There is an apron for you near the fire, pretty thing. Put it on!"

I did as she instructed, knowing it was not clean though it appeared bright and white. As I slipped the strap over my head, I was overwhelmed by a wave of nausea. If I made it through this evening without vomiting, it would be a miracle.

"Now, pretty thing, there is a knife and a board for cutting. Slice the carrots and the mushrooms, and chop the potatoes and the pork."

I approached the table. The knife she referred to was more like a cleaver, and when I took it into my hand, the handle felt oily. I dreaded knowing the truth, what horror it might be stained with. I started with the carrots, but the first turned to mush in my hand. Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed it down, reaching for the second carefully. The mushrooms were slimy, the potatoes were covered in sprouts and soft, and the pork was sticky and foul. My nose burned with the smell of it, and I gritted my teeth hard to keep from retching.

"Now, pretty thing, there is a cauldron over the fire. Fill it with water."

The water came from a barrel near the hearth. I was hopeful that it might be fresh, but when I removed the lid, it smelled like rotten eggs. Still, I ladled bowl after bowl until the cauldron was full.

"While you wait for it to boil, pretty thing, you can clean the dishes and scrub the floor."

I crossed to the sink where stacks upon stacks of dishes were piled. I wondered where they had come from, though I suspected the witch had many visitors, and not all of them had a companion like the fox. I tried not to think about what happened to those unsuspecting guests, the ones who trusted their eyes and not their guts.

The dishes were tedious, but I was used to the chore. I took my time clearing the sink so I could fill it with water, which I boiled in a heavy teapot. My hands burned as I worked, but I didn't care. The scalding water made me feel a little better about all the horrible things I had touched within the witch's house, though it still smelled like sulfur.

At least the sink was near the window, and in my periphery, I could see Lore slicing away at the grass in the field. He was shirtless and sweating, his muscles and scars on full display.

I battled a wave of electrifying lust, but it was too late. My mind had already wandered to last night when he lay beneath me. I thought of how he felt against me and how desperately I had wanted him inside me. I crossed my legs as the ache grew worse, which only seemed to heighten my need, and in some ways, I suddenly understood why Lore might consider this feeling a curse.

My thoughts were shattered instantly when something sharp sliced me. I gasped and pulled my hand out quickly to find a cut along my palm. It bled heavily and stung as soon as it was exposed to the air.

"Oh, pretty thing, look what you did!" said the witch.

Her horrible hand latched onto my injured arm. I bit my tongue, wanting so badly to scream no as she dragged me from the sink. She brought me near the hearth and retrieved a canister from the mantel, smearing something jelly-like over my palm. I thought it looked like honey, but it smelled sour. When she was finished, she wrapped it with a piece of linen she pulled from her pocket.

I squeezed my fingers into a fist, my stomach churning, both from the pain and the anxiety of what exactly the witch had used on my wound.

"The water is boiling, pretty thing," said the witch. "You must add the meat and potatoes."

I did as she said and finished the dishes, even with my wounded hand, then added the carrots and mushrooms before scrubbing the floor.

By the time I was finished, the sun was setting outside.

The witch was at the hearth, ladling stew into a bowl, which she placed on a tray along with a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine.

"Take this to your beloved," she said. "Be sure he does not leave a drop, and when you return, you may have some of your own."

I was suspicious of her instructions but relieved at the same time. I took the tray and carried it to the door. The smell of the stew made my stomach turn. Saliva gathered in my mouth, and I knew I was going to vomit. Thankfully, as soon as I was outside the cottage, the cold air washed over me, and the feeling lessened. I paused on the rotting step and took a deep breath before following the cobblestone path from the garden.

Lore was no longer in the field. I found him in the stables, having just spread a blanket on the hay-covered floor. He was still shirtless, still sweaty from his work in the field. He had tied his hair back, and the angles of his face looked just as fierce as his eyes, which raked down my body.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded, dropping my gaze to the tray. "I know Fox said not to accept food and drink," I said. "But the witch instructed me to bring you dinner. I thought perhaps we could share what food we already had."

"Of course," Lore said.

I set the tray down on a nearby barrel. When I turned to face Lore again, his eyes were on my hand.

"I thought you said you were okay," he said.

"I am," I said. "Mostly."

He crossed to me and took my hand, unwinding the bandage. He bent to smell the salve.

"I don't know what she used on it," I said.

"Nothing that will heal, certainly," he said. "Sit, and I will dress it."

I obeyed, only realizing now how badly my feet hurt. Lore retrieved the satchel and then came to kneel in front of me.

"How do you think Fox fares in the forest?" I asked.

"I am sure he is fine," said Lore. "Hold out your hand."

I did as he said. He scraped away what remained of the witch's medicine and then pulled the waterskin from the satchel and poured fresh water over the wound, squeezing it until it bled.

The pain was almost like being cut again, and I inhaled a breath between my teeth.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just want to make sure it is clean."

"I know. It's okay," I said.

After he seemed satisfied with the cleansing, he placed his hand over a patch of ground, and beneath it sprouted a green stem with pointed leaves and berries that looked almost like black tomatoes.

"What is that?" I asked.

"It is called deadly nightshade," said Lore.

He let the plant grow until it was a few inches tall before he ripped it from the ground and then tore the leaves free, leaving only the stems, from which he squeezed a pulp-like salve onto the cut. When he was finished, he tore a strip of cloth from his tunic and wrapped it around my hand.

"Before you leave, I'll replace the witch's rag," said Lore. "She will be none the wiser."

The thought of returning to that awful cottage filled me with dread. "Do you think she will know if I do not go back?"

"We risk offending her if we do not do as she says," he said.

"She expects me to eat when I go back inside," I said.

"Then we will make it appear as though you have eaten with me," Lore said, handing me a piece of bread from our own supplies.

I took it, but I wasn't very hungry. The smell of rancid meat lingered in my nose, which meant I could also taste it in the back of my throat.

I ate the bread and then reached into the satchel for the other waterskin, which was full of wine. I downed a mouthful and then another. When I was finished, I found Lore watching me.

"I can't escape what I have seen and felt in that cottage," I said. "Everything looks pretty and clean, but my body tells me otherwise."

"If I could, I would take your place," he said. "But I suspect the witch does not like fae, especially elvish princes."

"I will be fine," I said, looking down at my hands. "I would do anything for you."

Slowly, I raised my head and met his gaze. My heart beat faster as I thought about the words I was going to say. Then they started to tumble out of my mouth, and they fell into the air between us where I could not take them back.

"You may think you are cursed," I said. "But my love for you is very real."

"Samara." My name slipped from Lore's mouth in a pained whisper. "Please, Samara."

"In two days, I will partake of the golden apple and wish you free of your love for me, but I will still love you. I will always love you. I deserve to know what it's like to be loved by you before it is too late."

My voice trembled. I could not tell if it was from anger or sadness. I felt overwhelmed by both at this moment. I rose to my knees and unlaced my dress, pulling it over my head and casting it aside. I sat there, kneeling naked before the prince I had loved for seven long years, waiting for him to say something—anything.

He stared at me, mouth tense.

Just when I started to think he would do nothing, the word coward poised on the tip of my tongue, he was on his knees in front of me. His hand tangled in my hair, and he guided my head back so he could look into my eyes.

"I always dreamed this moment would happen somewhere far nicer than the floor of a stable," he said. "You deserve more than this."

"I don't need anything else," I said. "I just need you."

He stared at me a few seconds longer. I think he was looking for any sign of doubt, but I had none. I had never taken what I wanted, but I was going to tonight.

I kissed him, and his hesitation fell away as his fingers fisted in my hair. My lips parted on a moan, and his tongue slid against my own, teasing before he kissed me long and slow and deep. My heart beat rapidly as my hands moved to his chest. I tried to guide him to his back, because all I knew was what we had done last night, but Lore stopped me, smiling as he broke our kiss.

"Be patient, beloved," he said. Tilting my head back, he brushed his thumb over the curve of my swollen lips. "I have plans for you."

I liked the look in his eyes. It was hunger, gnawing and deep. The kind that made you feel hollow. I had seen it in his gaze before but to a lesser degree. Tonight, it roared to life, and a thrill shivered through me, knowing that I was what he craved.

"I…don't know what to do," I said.

I didn't need to say it, but I felt like I had to provide some kind of excuse in case I was terrible.

"Samara," he said, resting his forehead against mine. "You are perfect."

He kissed me again and then guided me to my back. He didn't follow but stayed seated on his heels, staring down at me. I felt exposed and moved to cover myself, turning my knee slightly into the other, as if I could hide from Lore, whose eyes only darkened at the sight.

"I will have my face there soon enough," he said. "You might as well let me look."

"It is an easy request for someone who is still clothed."

The corner of his mouth lifted, but I knew by the gleam in his eyes he had taken my words as a challenge. I lifted myself onto my elbows as he rose to his feet and unlaced his trousers, pulling them off. As he straightened, my eyes roamed over his body but stopped at his arousal, which was thick and rigid. I blushed fiercely when I realized it was the only thing I was staring at, but I was also thinking about what it would feel like to have him inside me soon.

I don't know what possessed me. Perhaps it was just the way he was looking at me now, but I shifted to my knees again, my face level with his sex. I lifted my hand but didn't touch him, moving my gaze to his. I suppose I wanted permission.

"You can touch me." His voice was strained. I wondered if he felt like I had felt all day—wound so tight, I could barely breathe.

I turned my attention to his arousal and let my fingers drift from the crown of his cock to the bottom where his balls hung heavy between his thighs. He was soft, which surprised me. No other part of his body felt like this.

"Will I hurt you?" I asked.

"I will tell you," he said. "Wrap your fingers around me."

I did as he said, and then he wrapped his own around mine and moved my hand up and down, letting out a low breath as I followed his lead.

"And that feels good?"

"Yes," he said, breathless. "Very."

"What else do I do?" I asked.

Again, Lore let out another long breath.

"Sweet Samara," he said, and I was surprised when he pulled my hand away from him and then knelt in front of me. "Let me show you how good this can be for you."

"I want to please you," I said.

I did not want to bring up my brothers, but I knew how they talked about the women who frequented our cottage. I knew who had satisfied them and who didn't.

"Beloved, you please me simply by existing," he said.

He kissed me long and slow, guiding me until I rested on my back again. He remained upright, staring down at me.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he said, and then he placed his knee between my legs, nudging them apart. He settled into that space and then rested his elbows on either side of my head, continuing our kiss. At some point, he let himself relax fully and my breath caught in my throat. He was so warm, and his arousal settled against my heat, heavy and hard. I wanted to be full of him, and I reacted without thought, widening my legs and lifting my hips.

Lore groaned against my mouth and then dragged his lips along my jaw and neck. He trailed kisses down my chest, between my breasts, before taking each into his mouth in turn. He teased mercilessly, plying my nipples with his tongue and then sucking hard. It was a push and pull of overwhelming pleasure and dizzying relief.

I had some idea of what he intended as he pressed soft kisses down my stomach, but it was another matter entirely once he arrived at the apex of my thighs. The inclination to press my knees together overwhelmed me, but Lore was there, and he was looking at a part of me no one ever had like he looked at all of me—as if it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

He kissed the inside of my thigh as he met my gaze, and I swallowed hard as a fierce blush stained my cheeks.

"You are perfect," he said.

He continued kissing along my thigh and then the other before settling completely on his stomach and kissing my heat. He did it again, harder this time, burying his face between the soft mound of curls between my legs.

I gasped, pressing my head into the floor.

I didn't know what to do with my hands. At first, I let them twist into his hair. It felt safe because if I grew too insecure, I could pull him away, but then he used his fingers to part my flesh and licked along my heat, letting his tongue circle where I ached most. I let out a moan, my head falling back.

Lore pulled away. "Is it good?" he asked.

"Yes," I breathed. My eyes were closed, and my chest rose and fell heavily. I had held my breath the entire time. "Yes."

He licked me again, and then his mouth closed over my clit. He sucked gently, and I thought I might die. I dug my heels into the floor but couldn't go anywhere, because Lore's arms were locked around my legs to keep me still, his face pressing harder into my sex.

When he let me go, he exhaled deeply, and when I looked at him, his lips were wet with my arousal. A wave of embarrassment burned through my body, but the corner of Lore's mouth lifted, his eyes dark with lust.

"There is no room for shame here, beloved," he said. "It's okay to love this. I do."

He turned his attention to me again. This time, his fingers trailed along my opening, deepening as he moved through my heat until one finger slipped fully inside. I instinctively tightened at the invasion, but then his mouth was on me again, and I was able to relax. Soon I felt molten, and he slipped another finger inside. The muscles in the bottom of my stomach contracted, and I gripped Lore between my thighs, unable to do anything else. It felt instinctual, and it gave me what I wanted, heightening the pressure and pleasure in a way I hadn't felt before.

Lore pulled away long enough to let out a low curse. Then he was back, but this time with a steady and unending rhythm. His fingers curled inside me while he licked and sucked my clit, and my legs pressed into him so hard, I shook. Inside, I was rising higher and higher, the pleasure moving from the depths of my stomach straight to my head until it unraveled.

The cry that left my mouth scraped against my throat. I could not even open my eyes. It felt like my body had pulled everything inside me to a single point between my thighs. If it wasn't so pleasurable, it would have been painful. I curled into myself as tremor after tremor shook my entire body. When it lessened, I could relax, but my eyes were heavy.

He had taken all my strength in a matter of seconds.

I heard him chuckle, and I opened my eyes enough to see his smug expression.

He was proud of himself.

He kissed the inside of my knee.

"How did that feel?" he asked.

"You know how it felt, arrogant prince," I said. "Is it a requirement to praise your mouth before we continue?"

He grinned and then shifted, resting one elbow, then the other on either side of my stomach. He kissed his way up my body. I felt warm and relaxed. I felt ready for him, even surer when his cock came to rest against my wet heat.

As quickly as he had brought me to release, the desire ignited again. It was a strange type of torture but one I was desperate for.

I held Lore's gaze as he brushed strands of hair from my face.

"I love you," I said, unable to bring my voice above a whisper. I was a little afraid he would recoil at my words, but his expression only grew softer.

"What I have felt for you these last seven years, it borders on obsession. I have never felt anything like it. I never will again."

I was surprised by his words but also confused. It was a confession of his feelings for me but also an acknowledgement that it would end.

He kissed me though, and I was reminded of why I had made this decision. I loved Lore despite everything, and this was what it was like to be loved by him.

When he pulled away, he let his nose drift down mine.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

I nodded, because I couldn't speak.

He shifted his weight to one side, reaching between us to guide the head of his cock through my heat before resting his forearms on either side of my head.

We were both a little breathless, though nothing had happened yet.

He kissed me again, once hard and deep, once soft and slow, and as he broke from my lips, he rocked his hips into mine. I let out a breath. There was no pain but a sweet pressure, and I widened my legs preparing to take more of him, though I found it difficult to relax. The anticipation kept me rigid, my heels were pressed into the floor, my back arched into him.

He kissed my forehead, one of his arms resting beneath my head.

"Wrap your legs around my waist," he said.

I followed his instructions, and the tension in my body lessened, then he drove into me again, this time to the hilt. I took in a sharp breath, but not because it hurt. It was because I was surprised.

Lore kissed my face and my neck and told me to breathe. I held his gaze. I had dreamed of so many aspects of what this moment would be like, but the one I could never have imagined was how close I would feel to him. This went beyond the way our bodies were connected. It was another level of existence, and within this space, I knew I would never love another as long as I lived.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Like I am dreaming," I said, slipping his hair behind his ear. "You?"

He gave a breathless laugh. "I feel like I might die if I do not move soon."

"I'm ready," I said.

He studied me, kissed me again.

"You are everything," he said.

His words twisted inside me. They were so close to the ones I wanted to hear but still so far away, but there came a point after he started to move that I no longer cared how he told me he loved me, because I could feel it in every part of my body. It was like he had taken ahold of everything inside me. My head fell back, and my hands slid over his back to his ass. I gripped him hard and pulled him into me. I wanted as much of him as I could get.

"Samara," he whispered my name as he kissed along my throat, matching the pace I desired. "Beloved."

He buried his face in the crook of my neck and held me tight as he rocked into me over and over, faster and faster, until his breath caught hard in his throat and his entire body tensed as he came. I could not describe the euphoria I felt, knowing that part of him was inside me, and I knew I'd been right to ask for this.

"Are you okay?" he asked as his body relaxed against mine.

"Yes," I said. "I am perfect."

"There is nothing truer," he said, his lips teasing mine.

We kissed and explored each other in the aftermath of our coupling, but there came a point when I knew I had to go. It was strange rising from where we had made love. I felt different, renewed in a way I never expected, and so in love my heart ached.

Once I was dressed, I turned to find Lore watching me. His stare was hard, and his brows were lowered. My heart ached suddenly, afraid that he had already decided to regret what happened between us. I decided I wouldn't ask, because I didn't want to know. I would show him soon enough that we were meant to be together, that his love for me was just as real as what we had shared tonight.

"Here," he said, wrapping the witch's ragged bandage around my hand to hide his work. After, he picked up the bowl of stew. "Rub some of the juice around your mouth, and pour it on your apron. I know it will be awful, but she will think you have eaten with me."

I took the bowl in hand, but before I could complete the task, Lore tilted my head back, and his mouth came down upon mine. I wanted so badly to stay with him, but there would be other nights, I told myself, knowing I was trading this one for hundreds more after.

"Get some sleep, wild one," Lore whispered when he pulled away.

I held my breath as I smeared the horrible stew around my mouth and poured it on the apron the witch had given me before leaving the barn. I paused at the door to look back at Lore.

"I love you," I said, because I did not think I could say it enough, but I turned before I could see his expression and hurried to the witch's cottage where a pretty orange glow filled the windows, though I knew it to be from the fire upon which the rancid stew still boiled—and likely many other terrible things.

I tried to prepare myself for what I would hear and taste and smell on the other side of her rotten door, but knowing what to expect did not make it any easier.

I cringed, turning the rusty knob, and a wave of nausea hit as I pushed the squealing door open. The witch was sitting in a chair, rocking back and forth, knitting with a pair of long needles. As she worked, they scraped against each other, and I ground my teeth harder and harder with each pass.

"You have been gone for quite some time, pretty thing," said the witch. "Your dinner has gone cold."

I glanced at the table and saw that she had prepared my bowl. There was a glass of wine and a loaf of bread too. When my gaze returned to the witch, she had moved and stood only an inch from me. I was glad that I'd clenched my jaw so tight. It kept me from screaming at her nearness, but I did stagger back. She gripped my wrist as she seemed fond of doing and dragged me close, taking a deep breath.

"You smell like the prince," she said. "But it seems you are full. Full of the prince and full of stew. Now it is off to bed with you."

She turned and dragged me into the dark of her cottage, to a room with an iron bed. It was neatly made, with many pillows and a coverlet edged with lace. A candle sat on a table nearby, but it had burned low and would soon go out.

The witch let go of my hand and pushed me farther into the room. I stumbled but caught myself before I could fall.

"Rest, pretty thing, for your belly is full. Nothing will harm you tonight, unless you wake before daylight."

She slammed the door, and the candle went out.

Alone, I placed my hands on the bed and recoiled instantly. The coverlet was damp, and so were the pillows. I would not rest there and instead lay down on the floor by the bed. It was like sleeping in the kitchen at home, and I suppose it was that familiarity—and my exhaustion from the evening spent with Lore—that helped me sleep despite my awful surroundings.

* * *

I was torn from slumber by a sudden, sharp kick to my side. I woke trying to catch my breath and full of terror as a terrible shriek filled the room and the witch crashed to the floor beside me. With horror, I realized I had forgotten the fox's final task. I had failed to stretch seven lengths of golden thread from the door to the bed.

Still gasping for breath, I rolled onto my hands and knees and tried to rise to my feet, but the witch wrapped her hands around my ankle, and it was then I realized that she had claws, for they were sharp and cut into my skin. I screamed as the pain sliced through me and she pulled me to the ground.

I fell flat, and my lungs felt paralyzed in my chest. I couldn't even scream as I lost the ability to take in air.

I tried to rise again, but the witch jerked me toward her.

"Pretty creature, full of vicious fae," the witch seethed. "I will cut them out of you. I will drain you dry, but first I will take your eyes."

I rolled onto my back. Though the witch still had her claws in my leg, my other was free, and I used it to kick her. I wasn't sure where my foot landed, maybe her hands or her arms, but she screamed and screeched and finally let me go. I scrambled to my feet, but my leg gave out as I tried to run, shredded by the witch's claws. I rose again and stumbled into the hallway, hitting the wall.

"Lore! Lore, please, help me!"

My scream broke into a sob.

"He cannot hear you, pretty thing," the witch sang in a shrill voice. "He is dead, dead asleep!"

But I knew otherwise. He had not taken her food or drink.

"Lore!"

My hand had just brushed the door when the witch's claws cut into my arms. I screamed as she threw me to the ground but was quickly silenced as my head struck the edge of the wall. My vision swam with explosions of black, and my stomach turned violently. I rolled onto my side and vomited.

"That is what you get for not listening, pretty thing. You are a fighter, and you are a liar," said the witch.

Her claws sunk into my wounded leg, and all I managed was a short wail. I did not fight her as she dragged me closer and closer to the hearth where a fire still raged.

When she dropped my leg, she turned her back to me, and it was then I caught sight of something glimmering on the floor.

It was the golden thread.

It must have slipped from my pocket.

I don't know what came over me, but something dark took hold, and all I felt was rage—rage toward everyone who had ever hurt me. It was like all the anger my mother had locked away inside me had suddenly been unleashed, and I felt…violent.

I reached for the thread and rose to my feet, stumbling toward the witch, whose back was still turned to me. With each step, I wound the thread around my hands and pulled it taut. As I came up behind her, I looped it around her neck and pulled it tight. I had meant to strangle her and was prepared for the struggle that would ensue, but the thread cut right through her, and her head slid completely off, falling into the empty sink. A second later, her body fell heavily to the floor.

My breathing was ragged and my ribs hurt, but I stood there numbly with the bloody thread dangling from my hands until I caught movement in the distance. Fox popped out from between the darkness of the trees, the glass ax clasped between his teeth, and Lore opened the stable door just as the sun peeked over the horizon.

Together they made their way across the freshly trimmed field toward the cottage.

I left the sink and went outside, making my way down the steps and to the edge of the garden. Lore raced to my side. He touched my face and then backed away to look at me from head to toe. I think he expected me to burst into tears, but right now, I was beyond that.

"Where is that fucking witch?" he hissed, reaching for his blade.

"She's dead," I said. "I killed her."

Lore's anger melted into shock. The only one who did not seem surprised was the fox, who turned his head to the side as he maneuvered the glass ax to the ground and propped it up against the fence.

"You did not listen, wild one," he said.

"No…I didn't," I said, and then I looked at Lore. "I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted to find the wishing tree."

Lore's brows slammed down over his eyes, and his jaw ticked. He didn't like what I'd said, but I assumed it was because he had not yet realized the witch could not tell us where the wishing tree would appear.

"Do not be so quick to presume," said the fox. "The witch can still show us the way to the tree, but first we must harvest her eyes and her claws."

I looked at Lore and handed him the thread.