Sweet & Spicy Lesbian Short Stories (GirlxGirl)

The Witch of Lake Erie: Part 7

Her breath catches. She lets go of me and steps back, breathing hard, and she won't meet my eyes.

My heart is pounding. My feelings fill the room, and I need to know what she's thinking. Did I scare her? Or is that something else passing over her expression?

"Callisto, look at me," I say softly, stepping closer.

She won't do it.

"I'm sorry," I say, really meaning it. "I didn't realize the doll would be so dangerous. You're so calm and good at what you do. I guess I thought that fixing curses was easy for you, and it wouldn't be a big deal."

She shakes her head, scowling. "Angee, that was so..."

"I know." I step closer until we're inches apart.

She doesn't step away.

Finally, she meets my eyes.

There's a long silence. We're both struggling to catch our breath.

For the briefest moment, I swear her gaze flicks to my lips.

Is she thinking about the kiss? Because I haven't stopped thinking about it. I lay awake remembering the feel of her lips against mine, the sweet taste and smell of her, her soft skin beneath my palms.

Should I tell her, or will she not want to hear it?

My ears tingle, picking up on something before the sense of danger reaches my brain. In slow motion, Callisto's eyes widen, and she turns her head toward the half-melted doll on the table—and it hits me what I'm hearing.

Sizzling.

A light flashes.

With a whoosh, the melted doll bursts into flame, and Callisto throws herself at me before I can react.

I stumble back and hit the shelves on the opposite wall, the impact reverberating through the tiny house. The wooden shelves dig into my back, painful enough to make me gasp, and all of the items wobble. Jars topple and shatter on the floor. Books fall over with thuds.

All the while, Callisto's body is over mine, a shield between me and the fire.

The flames roar, the heat stinging my face, forcing me to close my eyes. I scrunch my face against the explosion, gasping for air.

I lean into Callisto, eyes shut tight, my cheek pressed into the crook of her neck.

A series of pops fills the house, and we both flinch. Something must hit Callisto, because she jerks and lets out a yelp.

We sink lower, curling into each other, with me safely between her and the bookshelf—but oh, god, what happened to make her cry out? Did she get hit with something cursed? What if a sharp object pierced her?

Finally, the explosion dies down, and our panicked breaths fill the living room.

There's smoke everywhere. I can hardly see.

I try to ask Callisto if she's okay, but no words come out. My throat is tight.

Heart slamming into my ribs, I run my hands over her back, praying I won't find an injury.

Her dress isn't torn. There's no wetness indicating blood.

"Thank god," I whisper. "You weren't hurt?"

"I think it was this tiny wooden clog that hit me." She picks up the doll's shoe on the floor beside us. At her touch, it crumbles into ash.

I swallow hard. "You could have been hit by something deadly."

"But I wasn't."

I run my hands over her again to be sure. Her head, neck, shoulders, arms, waist, hips, and back are intact. No blood, nothing protruding.

At the feel of her body beneath my palms, a totally inappropriate flutter passes through me.

We stay on our knees for a long moment, pressed against the bookshelf, broken glass around us, herbs and powder all over the floor. I'm wrapped safely in Callisto's arms, not a scratch on me.

Her breath tickles my lips as she looks at me.

"Please never endanger your life just to see me again," she whispers.

I nod, and we're so close that a lock of her white hair catches on my lips.

She brushes it away, then rests her hand on my neck.

I don't move. My breaths are shallow as I sit in her arms, not wanting her to let me go.

She moves her face closer, and then hesitates, like she's debating whether to pull back.

"Whatever choice you make is fine with me, Callisto," I whisper. "I want you to be happy."

It hurts, but as much as I want to be with her, I have to respect her decision if she doesn't want me in her life.

"That's the problem," she murmurs. "What makes me happy and what I'm supposed to do are two very different things."

Last part coming tomorrow! Read it now on patreon.com/tianawarner