1865

The forest surrounding Willow Creek was a tapestry of darkness. The shadows were deep and the moon was a silver coin high above, casting a soft, pale light over the leaves and grass. The trees were thick, towering giants that cast their own shadows, and the ground was soft with moss and ferns.

The silence was absolute, and I inhaled the earthy scents, relishing in the coolness of the air. Nights like this, with the full moon rising and the stars winking, reminded me of my human years. Of the nights I would sneak from the stables and lie in the field, staring up at the sky and dreaming of adventure.

Cassandra had fled from me a week ago, her eyes wide with shock even as her cheeks were flushed from pleasure. According to Rhys and Malachi, I’ve been in a “mood” since. They both have an opinion on what I should do to fix the issue. Rhys thinks I need to send her chocolates from the city and letters full of heartfelt prose. Malachi, on the other hand, thinks I should toss her over my shoulder and take her to bed.

I know my little witch, though. If I chase her, she won’t run. She’ll raise her defenses, and not just emotional ones. Cassandra will have no issue using her magic to keep me away.

So I’ve waited, as painful as it’s been. The taste of her pleasure is my addiction, more than any high I get from racing stallions along the edge of cliffs or guiding a raft down rapids. I crave her, not just her blood or her body. I crave her in my arms. I long for her soft laughter. I’m desperate to feel the weight of her head on my shoulder, the warmth of her fingers entwined in mine.

Even if she won’t like it, I’ve made sure to keep watch—my instincts allowing no less. I’ve kept my distance from her cottage at night, staying high in the trees instead as a silent guardian.

Ambrose had noticed the strange man that Cassandra had. Ambrose had Malachi follow the man after he left the wedding celebration. Malachi had returned, reporting nothing suspicious. Ambrose was still concerned, though, and I didn’t disagree.

Something about the man’s scent had been wrong—off. I hadn’t wanted to worry Cassandra that night, and if I’m honest, I was thinking more about stealing my beautiful mate away for kisses than any potential danger. Something that could have ended in disaster. Something I won’t let happen again.

I circle the village twice before allowing my feet to take me to Cassandra’s cottage. Rather than climb the tree that’s become my self-imposed post, I lean against it. The night air has a bite of chill to it, the early whispers of changing seasons. It doesn’t matter, though. A blizzard could storm around me and I wouldn’t abandon Cassandra.

The windows on either side of the door glow behind the curtains with warm yellow light. A beacon of sanctuary amidst the dark of the night.

She’s alone, and has been each night. I have to believe she feels the same pull towards me as I do her.

I lose myself in thought, my eyes wandering the darkness as the nocturnal creatures begin their night. I’m not sure how much time has passed when the cottage door opens. I push off the tree, standing upright, my sharp eyesight drinking in Cassandra’s silhouetted face.

“I can feel you brooding and I’m tired of it,” Cassandra calls, her voice a sultry rasp.

I smirk, prowling towards her. “Is that so?” I tease, stopping just outside her wards. I know my brothers would advise me to not reveal how eager I am to have her attention once more. Fuck them, though. When they’ve found their mates, they’ll understand the futility of that.

Cassandra crosses her arms and stares. The breeze captures her scent and wraps it around me, both a torture and delight. Her black hair is loose and wild, and her eyes gleam in the moonlight. Cassandra wears a simple gown, her curves soft and tempting in the light spilling from the doorway.

“Come inside,” she orders and turns, her skirts swishing around her ankles as she disappears into the cottage.

I cross her wards, the faint sting of magic passing over my skin. Cassandra leaves the door open and I enter, closing the door behind me. The wards settle with a snap, and I glance around, taking in the familiar one room cottage with relish.

Cassandra is at the hearth, the flames already crackling. A kettle hangs on a hook, and the scent of an herbal tea fills the cottage. My witch glances over her shoulder at me, her lips curving in a smirk.

“Tea?” she offers.

I prowl towards her, and Cassandra stands, turning to face me. She raises her hand, stopping me with the gentle touch of her fingertips.

“We need to talk,” she says, and I swallow the urge to gather her into my arms. Cassandra searches my eyes, her hand rising to cup my jaw.

“Of course.” I cover her hand with mine, turning my face to press a kiss into her palm.

“Sit,” she orders, gesturing with her other hand. Cassandra slips past me, grabbing a kettle and pouring the boiling water into a clay teapot.

I obey, taking the same bench I sat on a week ago. The table is cleared of the herbs she’d been drying, the bundles and baskets stored away.

Cassandra joins me, her skirts swirling as she takes the other bench. She sets a wooden tray down and two cups, pouring tea for us both.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” I begin when she seems reluctant to speak. Cassandra meets my eyes, her expression calm.

“I have,” she admits, taking a sip of tea. The firelight casts shadows and highlights across her face, her eyes gleaming. “I needed time to think.”

I nod, mirroring her and taking a sip. The tea is floral, and Cassandra smiles when I wrinkle my nose.

“What have you thought about?” I set my cup down and lean forward, propping my elbows on the table. Cassandra’s fingers are wrapped around her cup, the steam curling around her hands.

“Us,” she answers, her honey eyes flashing with vulnerability. “Mates. My family.”

I lean back, keeping silent. She doesn’t look at me when she starts talking again.

“My family’s coven controls Boston. They have for generations.” She looks at me, as if trying to weigh my reaction. I keep my expression relaxed and open. This is nothing I don’t know. In fact, I likely know more than she realizes, given Ambrose’s investigation of her history. Something I didn’t know about until after the fact, else I’d have tried to stop him. Everything I learn about Cassandra, I want to hear it from her with trust.

She takes another sip of tea. “I hated the high society of the coven and I could never quite meet my family’s standards. The night of my twentieth birthday, my parents hosted a dinner party—something they hadn’t done in years. It seems, in their infinite wisdom, that my father had arranged for me to be married. When confronted after, he’d told me I should be grateful to have secured a good marriage. That, even if I struggled to perform magic and be the perfect daughter, I carried the family blood and could have powerful children.”

A visceral rage threatens to overwhelm me at the thought of another man touching my little witch, mating her, filling her with their child. Her gaze goes to my balled fists and I force them flat on the table and release a long breath. She is here now with me, even if she hasn’t accepted that we’re mates.

She clears her throat, and her voice takes on a note of anger. “When I tried to reason with my mother and grandmother, both of them said there was no point in arguing and that I would willingly marry the man or they’d cast me from the coven and disown me. They said that my womb was the only thing I had worth offering.”

I can’t stay still at that. I lean forward and wrap my fingers around her wrist. My grip is gentle, as if cradling a butterfly in my palm. When her eyes meet mine, I speak, “They’re wrong.”

Cassandra gives me a pained smile and pats my hand. I release her reluctantly. “Oh, I know. It still hurts all the same.” She visibly recomposes herself. “I pretended to accept their decision. When everyone was asleep that night, I left. When I was far enough away, I sent them a letter. Rather than marry, I did them the favor of leaving. I disowned and disavowed them. It gave me petty satisfaction, even if I’m sure they told the coven otherwise.”

Silence falls between us, but it’s not strained. She’s working through her thoughts and I reach for the tea, needing to do something with my hands so I don’t try to touch her. The drink is much cooler now, but I don’t complain. I’d rather have tepid tea than interrupt her thoughts.

When I set the cup down again, she meets my gaze head-on. There is fire in her eyes, a fire I’ve fallen in love with. There’s also fear, hidden deep within the spark. One that I silently vow to do anything to appease.

“When you said I was the perfect mate, all I could think was how that was impossible—no, wait, let me finish.” She stops me with a raised hand and I hadn’t realized I was moving towards her. I sink back down, my entire body protesting. Everything screams to convince her that she is perfect already.

“Every criticism they gave me came roaring back. I know running was wrong, but how could I consider dragging someone as amazing as you down? It killed me to leave you, but I couldn’t stay. All I could hear was my parents telling me that you’d realize your mistake and leave.” She reaches out and I knock over my cup in the rush to clasp her hand in both of mine, but we both ignore it. “Losing you would break me, Ashe. Break me so badly I don’t think I’d ever recover.”

Her name escapes me in a broken croak and she smiles again. This time there’s joy in the quirk of her lips.

“I love you,” I declare, holding her hand tightly. “You are my mate—every poisonous thing they said about you? I’ll gladly, eagerly, spend the rest of our lives proving them wrong. There is nothing you can do that will ever stop me loving you.”

She laughs, a watery sound but goddamn it, it fills the cracks in my soul. I’ll do whatever it takes to hear that laugh every day for eternity.

“Over the last week, I’ve done a lot of thinking,” she says, halting any other potential romantic overtures. “I realized I’ve been an idiot. I’ve let people who hurt me, who I haven’t seen for decades, take you away from me. I won’t let them ruin us, Ashe.”

Hope lights up my chest. “Does that mean—” I clear the sudden ball in my throat. “You feel it, too? The mate bond forming between us? You accept it?”

Cassandra’s eyes shine brighter than the moon and stars combined. “Yes, Ashe,” she says, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “I am your mate, just as you are mine.”

A growl of satisfaction tears from my chest and I move, using every bit of my vampire speed to round the table and sweep her into my arms. A squeak comes from her lips, a fraction of a second before I kiss her. Then I’m at the foot of her bed in the loft, her hair waving gently from the speed.

I toss her onto the bed, crawling over her, my eyes drinking in every inch of her. When I reach her gaze, I see my own need reflected there. “I’m going to claim you, little witch.” My voice is an unrecognizable rumble, pure savagery and primal instincts. “Mark you and fill you, so every male knows who you belong to.”

Cassandra wraps her arms around my neck, her own lip twisting into a possessive smirk. “I plan to claim you too, vampire. So that every woman knows you’re mine.”

“Take off your clothes, witch.” I pull her upright and Cassandra leans back on her hands. She looks up at me, her cheeks flushed, and her lips kiss-swollen.

Cassandra raises an eyebrow. “Only if you take yours off, vampire.”

I growl, shrugging off my coat and tossing it aside. Cassandra bites her lip, her eyes hungry as I unbutton my shirt and shrug it off.

Cassandra undoes the buttons of her dress, and my fingers itch to do it myself. She moves slowly, torturously, and I rip my belt free, the metal clanging.

She laughs, shimmying from the bodice. I groan, her breasts bared to me, the tips hardened and begging for my touch. Cassandra lies back again, and I yank my boots off.

Cassandra sits up, her fingers reaching for me, and I growl. “Off,” I repeat, gesturing to her skirts.

She obeys, her fingers deft and sure, and I shove my trousers down, kicking them away. Cassandra gasps, her gaze heating even more, and I’m naked before her.

I prowl towards her and Cassandra scoots back, her skirts pooling around her. I crawl over her once more, settling my hips between her thighs. Her core is hot and wet against my aching cock, and I groan, pressing closer.

Cassandra moans, her hips thrusting up. I grab her wrists and pin them above her head. She gasps, her eyes flashing with challenge.

“Mine,” I growl, and Cassandra bares her teeth at me.

“Yours,” she vows, and my control snaps.

I capture her lips, swallowing her cries as I thrust inside her. Cassandra moans, her core stretching and throbbing around me. I couldn’t wait and from how she soaks my cock, neither could she.

I release her wrists and her hands skate down my back, her nails digging into the skin. I growl, thrusting deeper.

Cassandra’s back arches, her head thrown back and I trail kisses along her jaw, her pulse pounding beneath my lips.

I sink my fangs into the bold vein above her breast, the one that will bind her to me, and Cassandra cries out. Pleasure rushes through me, and Cassandra clings to me, her core pulsing and throbbing with her release.

I release her neck, licking the wound closed. Cassandra’s eyes are hazy with pleasure and her cheeks are flushed. Her blood is richer than wine on my tongue, yet I pull back and drag a nail deep across my own heart vein. My blood wells up and some of the haze clears from her eyes. I cup the back of her head and bring her lips to my chest.

“Claim me, my love.” My voice is haggard. She doesn’t hesitate, pressing her lips against the bleeding cut and sucking hard. I nearly come from that alone.

Cassandra releases her hold, her tongue sweeping across the cut as if savoring every drop. I roll us, and Cassandra gasps, sitting upright. She braces her palms against my chest, her core clenching around me.

“Ride your mate, little witch.” I cup her hips, my thumbs rubbing against the soft skin.

Cassandra bites her lip, her eyes fluttering shut as she begins to move. My mate is a temptress, a goddess of temptation. A goddess I plan to worship daily. Her hips swirl, her nails scraping down my chest.

I growl, thrusting my hips up. Cassandra moans, her core throbbing.

“Ashe,” she cries, her hips circling again. Her breasts bounce with her movements, and I reach up, cupping them and rolling her tight nipples. Cassandra throws her head back, her hips rising and falling, grinding against me.

I sit up, my hands guiding her hips. Cassandra wraps her arms around my neck, her nails digging into my shoulders.

I kiss her, swallowing her cries as I meet her thrust for thrust. Pleasure builds at the base of my spine, and Cassandra’s core throbs and pulses.

“Cassandra,” I growl, breaking the kiss and burying my face against her neck. I’m close but I refuse to give in without feeling her coming on my cock. I sink my fangs into her neck.

Cassandra screams, her core throbbing as pleasure catapults her over the edge. Her orgasm pulls me with her, my release exploding through me.

I release her neck, licking the wounds closed. Cassandra slumps against me, her heart beating in time with mine.

I roll us again, cradling my mate against my chest. Cassandra sighs, her leg sliding between mine, her fingers tracing patterns along my chest.

“I love you,” she murmurs, her words slurred and sleep heavy.

I kiss her forehead, her hair a waterfall against my skin. “I love you, Cassandra. My mate. My witch.”

My mate sighs, her breathing evening out. I listen as her heart beats a love song. My little witch is asleep, and I pull the blankets over us, cocooning us against the world.

Nothing will tear Cassandra from my arms, no matter how strong or persistent the threat may be.

I swear it.