spellbound (18+)

Sixteenth Candle

Adrik set his coat down, watching a black cat dart between his legs. It purred, and he sighed, picking it up.

Just like its owner, he'd reluctantly gotten used to it's presence.

"Stay out of my sight," he grumbled, setting it down, he paused, inhaling.

"Something smells good," he whispered.

He walked into the kitchen, finding her, her hands covered in flour, his marble cabinets covered in flour bowls and spoons piled up on one side of his farmhouse sink, s she shaped something in the oven.

He rarely used his kitchen.

"Baking? Seems domestic for the undercover federal agent."

She glanced back at him. She's in a underwear now, no bra, hair in bonnet, barefaced. He thought, surely this should lower her charm.

Uncast whatever spell had taken hold of him?

No. If anything it's roots dig deeper. Oddly, this was what he didn't want anyone to see.

This part of her seemed secret. He'd already roped it off in his mind as forbidden.

"I like baking," she said simply.

His hands resting on her waist. "Baking. Hm." She ignored him, as he looked at the counter.

"What's with all this shit? Where'd you get from?"

"Farmers market. I'm careful what I put in my body."

"You put me in your body," he smirked.

She glanced back. "My body is a temple. Men are only let inside to sacrifice."

He blinked. "You gotta chill with that witchy shit. Sometimes I think it's real."

She just smiled, going back to her task. Adrik sat down, as she watched the oven. Watched it. Such an innocent thing to do.

It infuriated him. He didn't know why, but the small smile on her face as she watched her dough rise in the oven snuck under skin, and set fire to his bones.

"I think you think you're better than me," he said softly.

She didn't take her eyes off the stove. "Why would you'd say that?"

His lips pursed. Hurt her. That's what he wanted. To hurt her. Why it compelled him he didn't know.

"You think I'm...a villain. You think you're holier than me, that by some chance, you'll see the pearly gates while I rot in hell."

She let her shoulder rise and fall nonchalantly. She was so...unaffected. And yet he he found his airway constricting around her.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. It wasn't him.

"Aren't you?" She whispered.

"Just say it," he grinned. "There's no shame right? Just say it. You think you're better than me."

She stood, her back to him. "I am better than you," she said softly.

"Then why were you so easy to catch?"

She froze. He smiled. He'd gotten to her. Broken her facade. He wanted to see her. See her face. She turned around, her eyes on the floor.

He looked away.

Oh.

That wasn't as satisfying as he thought he would be.

"I don't know," she said softly, a self-depreciating smile on her face.

His eyes widened. "It's because you're stupid, Princess. You're book smart but you're not smart where it counts."

She looked up at him. An emptiness showed her face he'd never seen. It send a shiver down his spine.

Then her lips quirked up. "Hm...maybe."

How? She managed to get the upper hand in everything. With a smile. A look. A scrunch of her nose.

A word.

Poison.

Poison she said.

He shifted. "Why are you smiling?"

She cocked her head. "Can't I smile?"

He swallowed, stepping forward. "You're never going home again. You're mine now."

She smiled. "Your what?"

He looked over her face. "Just mine."

She smiled wider.

"I don't know why you're smiling. I don't even treat you that well," he smirked. Her smile fell.

He felt triumphant for a moment. Then her hands snaked up his neck resting on the back of his neck, nestled into his hair.

"I see it now. You want to destroy me, don't you. You enjoy the chase. But if you mix up what you love with what you hate, when it's gone, all you'll have is a ghost of regret."

She pulled back with a smile. "It's nice to wipe a smile off someone's face, until they don't smile anymore."

He held his breath, his body shaking despite himself. Something about her was evil, it just instilled it deeper in his bones how dangerous she was.

Bht that was okay. Witch. Fed. She was his. And they belonged together. She was much too dangerous otherwise.

"Look at you, you're melting aren't you?" she whispered. "Melting right in my hands."

Yes...she was evil. His hands gripped her hips, picking her up, settling her on his waist.

Demonic, that's what she was. But that was exactly the kind of woman he needed. There was a reason she walked into his town.

She walked in his town for him.

And she was never walking out.

Her lips fastened to his neck, as he walked then to the bedroom, fingers unbuttoning his shirt, hands on his bulge.

He could hear soft breaths, fanning the flames inside of him, the smell of her, the taste of her skin.

She may be the devil. In fact he was sure she was.

But he was going to hell anyway.