Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

W histling happily, I skip by my little witch's side as she does her best to ignore me, but I got a reaction. She screamed, drawing eyes, and I can't help but laugh. Sometimes her will is so strong, even I cannot bend it—me, a higher demon. I am one of the most powerful of my kind, but sometimes, when I whisper in her ear enough, she gives in out of frustration and anger.

Right now, we are back to her ignoring me, as if that will make me go away. She should have learned after twenty years that it won't work.

We are bound together, my witch and I, and one day, her soul will be mine.

"Good morn." She nods respectfully at a passing couple. Men are allowed to visit for the night but must be gone by morning. The walk of shame they do is hilarious.

Leaning in, I whisper wickedly, enjoying her shiver at my closeness, "Did you know he's fucking her brother? Quite scandalous. I watched them going at it the other night under the moon."

"You are a pervert," she hisses, and a passing child's eyes widen.

She sighs as she runs away and tugs her hood closer, doing her best to ignore me, but I've already cracked her, and she knows it. My little witch hates not having the last word, and more than that, she hates having me at her side.

It's a fun little game we play.

"You're just jealous I wasn't watching you play with yourself." Her magic smacks into me, throwing me well past her barrier. I laugh as I cut through it. She's getting stronger. Most others wouldn't dare strike me, but they also couldn't succeed in doing so. It is only because I allow her to.

I pop back to her side, and she sighs.

"Look, who am I going to tell that you get yourself off to manga? Or that you have a tentacle dildo?" She waves her hand, and my lips are suddenly sewn shut. Laughing, I snake my tongue through the magic, the forked muscle drawing her gaze as it cuts through the spell woven into my skin. My body heats at the sudden lust in her gaze, and I move closer, letting her feel the warmth flowing from me as my tongue flicks in the air, tasting her. This is a new game we play. It started recently, but it's quickly becoming my favourite.

She swallows and turns away with a swish of her cloak as I smirk.

The little witch wants me, and it will be her undoing.

Sauntering by her side, I wave and jump at the passing witches, not that they can see me, only she can. It's another perk of the deal I made.

"Can you stop?" she mutters under her breath.

I sigh. "They cannot see me."

"But they can feel you," she points out as a green, big-breasted witch looks around after I spank her ass. Her eyes land on my little witch and narrow, and she hurries along, making me laugh.

"She was cute. Maybe you should break your vow with her," I press. "You've had women before. It was hot to watch."

"Which is exactly why I made the vow. I was sick of you popping up while I was mi?—"

"Eating pussy? Sucking dick? Getting fucked into oblivion? Doing the horizontal mambo?" I supply helpfully. Though I've watched, I've never gotten to touch. I've grown stronger over the years, but sometimes I ache for more.

I ache to feel her skin pressed against mine .

I yearn to taste the darkness and evil that hides within her.

She is very beautiful for a human.

It's something I realised as she grew up. That fact became hard to ignore, and my own desire for her made it that much harder not to take what I want. Demons are not patient creatures, but for her, I am, so instead, I resigned myself to watching her pleasure and feasting on it with others, until she took that away from me too.

Cruel little witch.

She turns her gaze to me, and as usual, I am lost in her beauty.

Her heart-shaped face screams of innocence, and her dark eyes, almost bordering on black with flecks of purple within, are captivating. Her long black hair always smells of wet earth in the best way, and those thick locks are my new obsession. There are natural purple streaks throughout, which I love. Her cheeks dimple with every smile, and I ache to lick the creases within her cheeks. Her lips are plump and always painted black, and her eyes are sharp and lined with makeup. She's small, even for a witch, barely five feet, but her curves make my mouth water—delicious plump breasts, thick waist, and round hips.

She is the epitome of nights well spent, sweaty and fucked.

Her skin is as pale as the moonlight, something she constantly moans about and tries to change with her magic, but if she knew how she would glow while I fucked her under a blood moon, she would never complain again.

It is the darkness in her gaze, however, that draws me, speaking of death and decay. It is the taste of her magic, of blood and ruin, that makes me obsessed.

My little witch does not know the truth, but she will soon enough, and I cannot wait to watch.

She will be magnificent.

Gods, save me.