The Weaver's Source

Chapter 10

The rains had passed, leaving behind mud and puddles in abundance. I shivered at the wind the blew over the meadow, tugging at my thin shift, and stepped out onto the worn rain-swept steps of my home, my gaze sweeping over the dark world. Then I saw him, standing by the road, his attention utterly fixed on me and his magic swirling darkly, tugging me closer.

With bare feet, I followed the well-trodden path down to the road, my pulse quickening the closer I drew. My magic shimmered vibrantly through me, whispering heat and memories of those sensual dreams I've had so many times. Dreams of him devouring me, of his masculine hands and hungry kisses. And then I was before him, keeping some steps away. Grigore loomed, just as rugged as the last time I had seen him, thumb hooked in his belt and his body rigid with hostility and quiet danger. His stormy eyes observed me attentively, sweeping over the feminine curves my shift betrayed, the thin material rippling over my skin with every breath of the wind and likely revealing a little more of me than it should, before locking with my nervous gaze sharply.

"I thought you didn't want me near you." I said a little tersely, trying to scrabble back some sense of dignity after our last encounter.

He ran his thumb along his jaw irritably as he shifted his weight with impatience, his body rippling dangerously.

"I didn't." He growled. "I still don't."

Despite his dark tone, his stormy eyes flickered over my mouth and his song whispered over me sensually, splashing pink over my pale skin and a desire to touch him rise as my magic reacted. My hands itched to touch his face, to trace his scars and jaw, and my mouth hummed with curiosity to find out what he tasted like. I tangled my fingers together, hoping to push it down as I wrestled with my magic, urging it to stop whatever it was it was doing.

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm leaving." He announced.

My heart tightened.

"Leaving?" I glanced over my shoulder, trying to spy the river hidden behind the hill. "But the monsters..."

"I need magic. I'll hunt, feed, and return in a day or so."

Feed. There was something about that word that abruptly made me self-conscious, hyper aware I was wearing so little and that he was only mere steps away, my gaze snatched by the masculine lines of his throat bared by the collar of his shirt, the hardness of his jaw and the sensuality of his mouth.

My cheeks were flaming, realising I was beginning to make a fool out of myself already and that my magic was encouraging it by how it filled me, fanning those thoughts and nudging me to get closer to the man I was deeply attracted to.

A man who has already rejected me, I reminded myself sharply.

"Why come tell me?" I asked, pushing my hair nervously from my face.

A heated glimmer flickered over his features, tensing his body and etching his face into irritation.

"To make sure you stay put. I don't want to return to find a demon lurking in those waters."

I found myself fretting as my magic grew unhappy at the news, not wanting him to go, despite him having given me no reason to want him to stay. I stepped forward softly, drawing closer to him.

"Is there no way for you to gain magic here?" I asked thoughtfully, quietly wondering how I could offer my magic to him. If he was mine, he should be able to take it from me, but I hadn't a clue as to how and I had little doubt he'd refuse.

Grigore fell silent, his statue-like body somehow growing stiffer as he suddenly became guarded, his gaze flicking over me attentively.

"There's nothing near here that would give enough magic."