Rain began to patter slowly on the window pane as Tabitha sunk deeper into the overly-plush couch in the office of her aunt. She hated the ostentatious displays that the Matriarch always seemed to have a flair for. The entire castle was cloaked in only black furniture. Proud portraits of human slaughter hung on each wall. They'd passed two separate skulls just on the short walk to the office--one of the previous Matron of the coven and one of some random soul that her aunt had killed--both of which made Dacre nervously shutter behind her. She'd been forced to hold her tongue tightly between her two rows of teeth to keep from laughing out loud at his aversion to what her aunt considered decorations.
Her aunt had walked out of the room minutes before without warning, just as they'd walked in. Tabitha knew that she would be back, so she decided to just take a seat and wait out her return in order to give Dacre some time to adjust rather than chase after her. She was glad for the choice she made once she caught a glimpse of his pale features. Tabitha opened and closed her mouth several times, not knowing what to say or do to comfort him. After a long, painful moment of going back and forth with the consequences of what she was about to do next, Tabitha relented.
She carefully placed her palm over the back of his hand as it rested on his thigh. An electric shock jolted her skin at the contact and she felt him stiffen beside her, but she made no move to remove her touch from his. She stared absently at the connection between the two, afraid for the first time in her life to make eye contact with the man that sat next to her.
Her power to hold out against looking at him wilted, however, whenever his hand nimbly turned around and expertly intertwined her fingers between his own. She heard his heart begin to thrum loudly in his chest and the air emanating off of him smelled of a deep passion.
Too late did she realize that the scent of arousal that filled the air around them was coming from her own being. When Tabitha braved herself to glance up from their interlocked hands, she nearly winced at the intensity of the eyes that stared back at her. Dacre was looking at her in a way that she never thought possible. A harmonious symphony of emotions filled his green irises, the small flecks of brown that she'd first noted outside of a tavern glinting at her in the waning light of the dying fireplace.
Fervor for her was housed in his eyes, along with equal amounts of an unspeakable tenderness and warmth. But the most dangerous emotion she saw there was also the most thrilling--a savage, hungry lust.
Tabitha sucked in a breath as she watched Dacre's eyes trail slowly to her parted lips and stay there, as if transfixed by the sight in front of him. She allowed herself one achingly delicious moment of looking at his own lips, her own heart beating viciously in her chest at what she found there.
Dacre's tongue darted out and nimbly swept across the bottom lip, leaving a light sheen in its wake. She briefly considered bridging the gap between them and taking that same lip between her own, all while feeling her way up his bearded jawline with both hands. She quickly pushed the thought of running her hands down his face from her mind due to the fact that that would require her to remove her hand from his hold. She somehow knew that once she did that, the moment would be over. They'd be required to come to terms with who and what they were: two people that couldn't be together.
But she allowed herself to fantasize about what a kiss with Dacre would feel like for much, much longer.
Her own animalistic, predatory desire hit her like undulating waves. She had to physically force herself to stay put and not ravage him in the way that all of her instincts demanded of her to. Tabitha didn't think he'd mind, though, if the sexual desire that he was radiating was any indication.
"Tabitha," Dacre rumbled, drawling in a ragged breath. The sound of his voice made her bite her own lip, fighting against every savage instinct in her body that told her to claim him as hers. She came so close to caving, to throwing herself at him and letting every innate drive take over, when she heard her aunt's thundering footsteps closing the distance between herself and them in the hallway.
Tabitha was hyperaware of the disappointment and hurt that marred his countenance when she pulled away, both with her hand and with her entire body as well. Her heart ached at the sight as he sat there and dazedly tried to piece together where he'd went wrong. She subconsciously reached out her hand again, hoping to soothe the ache that signaled itself in the furrow of his brow and the hurt in his eyes, when she heard her aunt nearing closer than ever and quickly yanked her hand back. Just as the door to her aunts office was forcefully opened, she leaned in close to the man beside her and whispered, "Soon."
His eyes lit up before they both turned to face the Matriarch.
Dacre quickly made a move to stand like he was being presented in front of royalty as her aunt made her grandiose entrance, as she aways did. Tabitha shot him a look that stilled him completely. He pushed himself further back in his seat, staring blankly ahead so to avoid the knowing stare of her aunt.
"So," the Matriarch muttered, her eyes wide and amused as if she'd just been made privy to the juiciest bit of gossip in all of the Kingdom, "it seems that I must have been interrupting something. The aromas coming from this room are simply ... suffocating." She brushed the full-length of her black hair behind her shoulders, a wicked smile tightening her face.
Tabitha resisted the urge that she had to scream. She was so used to being the only witch around that she had completely forgotten that almost every other person in the castle had senses just as heightened as her own, save for Dacre. The last thing that she wanted was for the people that hated her most to find out her second to biggest weakness after her own little sister, Bexley.
Tabitha's heart ached as she thought about her innocent little sister. She was most likely rotting away in a filthy cell, scared and alone, while her older sister was almost making out with some human. A burning shame tore through Tabitha's chest as she considered the fact that she'd failed Bexley in the one aspect that she should be exceptional at: being a protector.
Tabitha didn't know what side her aunt would be on at the end of that discussion, but she couldn't risk letting the same thing happen to Dacre. If she had to lie about her feelings for the man to her aunt, then so be it.
If there was one thing that she could exceed at, it was denying what she honestly felt for Dacre.
Tabitha tsked loudly and straightened her back, hoping her persona of unflappable confidence was believable. "It seems that the years have dampened your senses, aunt. I'm not sure what you're smelling--the only scents I'm picking up on are all sourced from your decrepit bodily tissue."
Dacre coughed in a painfully-obvious attempt to cover up his laugh at her comment.
Her aunt forced a strained smile onto her face, but her pale-blue eyes were burning with rage as she considered the niece in front of her. A tweak of stinging pain implanted itself in the back of Tabitha's neck, the sure-fire sign of an oncoming headache that was never supposed ail a witch, but Tabitha knew that it wasn't a normal pain. She raised her chin higher and stared her aunt in the eyes, both of them unblinking and challenging, even as the tweak of a small ache in her neck flared up into an all-out miserable spasm.
Finally, her aunt blinked once and diverted her gaze. With the stare of the Matriarch no longer on her, the unbearable pain in her neck disappeared just as quickly as it had showed up. Tabitha wasn't surprised by this development.
"I see you're just as charmingly witty as ever," the Matron finally spoke with disdain evident in her voice, bridging a long silence amongst the three of them. "But I'm afraid that you wouldn't have ventured out so far just to relive some of our old trifles. What, gods above, could have coerced you into seeing the one person you made clear that you hate most?"
"I hate to break it to you," Tabitha chortled, "but I'm afraid you're mistaken--you are not, in fact, who I hate most in this castle. Your daughter is the honorary title holder for that one. Rest assured that you're a close second."
Dacre stiffened beside her, and Tabitha didn't miss the way his hand deftly moved to the dagger he had hidden beneath his cloak. He was anticipating having to fight their way out of the situation for the comment she made insulting her aunt's daughter, her cousin. She thought it was cute that he thought he'd stand a chance against her aunt, if only a little sad.
"You'll have to forgive my niece and her rudely blunt manners," the aunt chided. "She's been this way since she was first able to speak--unfortunately, it seems that she also never grew out of the childish competition that she has going with my own daughter, Mariposa."
Tabitha scoffed. "Childish competition? She tried to kill me."
"And she's still breathing?" Dacre spoke up in an incredulous voice. Tabitha knew that it was almost painful for him to keep to himself, so she wasn't too upset when he spoke up. She was nervous, however, that her aunt would somehow find a way to use it to her advantage.
"What, do you believe me to be so much of a savage that I must retaliate at every single indiscretion made against me?" Tabitha mocked in a facetiously-hurt tone, bringing her palms to her chest in a show of horror.
"Very smart man, although your judgement is called into question considering the fact that you willingly put yourself in the company of my niece," her aunt deadpanned as she plopped into a black leather seat, interrupting Dacre's reply. His face burned brightly but he slumped back in his seat rather than giving a response.
Tabitha sneered at her aunt before continuing. "Let's just get down to the real reason I'm here, shall we? I need the antidote to Felaria." At this, the red witch rolled back her sleeve and revealed to her audience the feverishly-red wound that was sitting stagnant on her skin. It had healed some since the attack, but not nearly as much as her body should have been able to heal it. Her near-decapitation wound from fighting off the Helios had made this one look like a paper cut, but it had still healed infinitely faster than the Felaria wound had been.
The Matriarch barked out a harsh laugh that Tabitha had to physically stop herself from growling at. Once her aunt had finally stopped her fit of chortling, she wiped a stray tear from under her eye and continued with a smile on her face. "How do I put this lightly? No."
Tabitha was out of her seat and crossing the distance between the two before she even realized it. She placed both of her palms on the wooden desk separating her from her aunt and lowered herself to eye level, feeling a boiling rage scratching at her surface, aching to get out and destroy her aunt. All of the pent-up rage wasn't just from that night, however. Some of it was from the years of pain and ridicule she'd endured thanks to the demon in witch's clothing that sat in the chair in front of her.
Her focus went into hyperdrive when she noticed the slow, steady throb of her aunt's pulse at her neck underneath her heavy-loaded orange Mark. For an honest moment, she considered the pros and cons of sinking her teeth into that pulse and ripping her Matriarch's neck clean from her body. The cons won out, eventually, and she took a calming breath, trying to restore what little sense of humanity that she had to begin with.
Tabitha realized just how little her sense of humanity was when she continued to want to kill her own aunt.
She sighed and returned to her seat, averting her glare away from her aunt so she wasn't forced to meet the smirk that the older witch was sending her way.
"And why not?" She asked in a forcefully-calm voice.
Her aunt gave a careless shrug that she knew was a move made purely to piss her off further. She bristled in her seat and clutched the cushion underneath her, mindlessly ripping it to shreds before Dacre placed a calming hand on her shoulder.
"I need to know more information before I begin to dole out my most valuable commodity; you know that," the Matriarch droned on. Tabitha fantasized about ripping her twin-blue eyes right out of her head as she rolled them.
"What information could I possibly give you in exchange?" Tabitha inquired through gritted teeth. A flash of amusement flashed across her aunt's dark complexion but it was quickly replaced with an air of superiority.
"First things first, let me inspect that wound closer," her aunt spoke finally. Tabitha crossed the short distance separating them, rolling up the sleeve of her cloak to give the Matriarch a better view. Her aunt seized her wrist with an unnecessary amount of force, but Tabitha kept her features cool as she looked down her nose at her fellow witch. She allowed herself to imagine ripping off the orange Mark that scaled her aunt's features rather than her eyes.
"It's practically healed," she announced in a tone filled with awe. Tabitha wrenched her arm out of her grasp, yanking the sleeve back into its rightful place. A retort was ready to fling off her tongue when she was cut off by Dacre instead.
"Healed?" He asked, thinly-veiled anger seeping into every second of it. Tabitha should have stopped him, but she allowed herself a moment of smug satisfaction at the fact that he was defending her. "I'd hardly call that healed. It's been hurting her since she got it. You're really willing to let your own niece continue to suffer just out of spite?"
Tabitha sucked in a breath as she watched her aunt narrow her eyes at the man sitting behind her. She instinctively moved between them, a searing pain running up and down her spine. She tightened her jaw and waited for the burning sensation to quiet down. After a few agonizing seconds, it finally did once her aunt relented. Tabitha turned and looked at Dacre as he sat behind her, confused but still blissfully unaware of what he'd almost incurred. She sighed in relief before turning back toward the Matriarch.
"I'll have you know, boy," her aunt spit the word out, "that the only reason she survived that bite is because of me. So instead of coming in here and insulting me, I think a simple 'thank you' would suffice."
"What is she talking about?" Dacre questioned, his green eyes piercing into Tabitha's own as he ignored her aunt altogether. Tabitha felt the Matron bristle at being ignored, but she just sighed and returned herself to her seat beside him. She bit her lip before explaining.
"I'll fill you in later," she promised. She watched him deflate a bit at being pushed to the side, but she knew that she had to get what she came for. "What else do you want to know?" She asked her aunt.
"The answer to the question that I asked you so many years ago." Tabitha's back went ram-rod straight with tension the second the words left the Matriarch's mouth. She was hoping to avoid that specific conversation altogether--hell, she'd hoped that her aunt had simply forgotten her request of Tabitha altogether.
"I've given it no thought," the red witch lied with a strained voice. Tabitha kept her gaze on the floor in front of her to avoid the two sets of eyes that tried to search her own.
"That's it," Dacre scoffed beside her, fury radiating from his entire being. He scooted a few more inches away from Tabitha; the distance stung her so much so that she sought out his gaze and was unsurprised to see it angrily focused on her. "No more cryptic wording, no more brushing off my questions--I demand to not be kept in the dark. What in gods names is going on here?"
Her aunt began to rise out of her chair, an accusatory smile tugging on her lips. Tabitha forced herself to not laugh over the distance between them and end her aunt before she said anything further. "Are you saying that my sweet niece hasn't told you?"
"Told me what?" He insisted, his deep voice growing more and more desperate by the syllable.
"Well, well, Tabitha," her aunt purred, enjoying being the bearer of bad news much too highly for Tabitha's liking, "I must truly have misunderstood the situation I walked into earlier. I thought you two to be lovers, but I thought it was well known that you don't keep things from those you love." She pursed her lips and wagged her finger at the younger witch in fake reprimand. "Since my rude niece never thought to fill in the details, I'll do the honors: Tabitha is the rightful heir to the Demetrian coven and the next in line for Matriarch of the clan after yours truly."