The Witch Collector

“You should get very comfortable with me, Raina,” he says, voice tender. “We’re going to become the closest of friends.”

Like our first go around, I spit. This time I hit my mark, right on his ugly face.

“Raina Bloodgood is dead,” she informs him.

“Raina Bloodgood, your mouth will be my ruin.”

“Just say it,” I demand, every muscle in my body going taut. “What is this thing inside you?”

Without hesitance or preamble, the collision finally comes.

“It is Neri,” he signs.

“Immortality is a curious thing. One can live forever until someone manages to kill them.

He trails his fingertips along my jaw. “It would be best if you didn’t look at me like that.”

I lean closer and lick my lips. “Like what?”

He gives me a piercing look. “Like you want me to kiss you. Because I will.”

He trails his fingertips along my jaw. “It would be best if you didn’t look at me like that.”

I lean closer and lick my lips. “Like what?”

He gives me a piercing look. “Like you want me to kiss you. Because I will.”

Head tilted, he leans close, his dark hair falling around his serious face. “You’ve saved my life twice, Raina Bloodgood. Wise or not, I’m eternally indebted to you. The very least I can do is keep you warm.”

He’ll bleed out soon if I leave him like this.

I sigh. How many times will I save the Witch Collector’s life?

The prince looms there, a bloody nightmare, watching me.

And from the abyss of sleep, he smiles.