The Five Cursed Witches: Volume 3 - Morana, the Witch of Life

Chapter 42 Morana's Samhain - part 2

Morana

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"What really is so special about him?" Dereck said. His voice somewhat drawling, and I opened my eyes. Before I had time to properly process what he had said, he continued. "He's just average. There's nothing special about him."

My head caught up, but it did not like what it heard for more than one reason. A major reason was the fact that Dereck was unkind to Alejo, but the other part of it was that what he said made it impossible for me to close my eyes to his feelings anymore.

I had done my best over the past month to not read in too much into Dereck's attitude towards Alejo. Tried to keep telling myself that Dereck only viewed me as a friend. But I could not keep up pretending to not know.

"He just shows up out of nowhere and suddenly he's the only one in your life," Dereck went on and I began shaking my head. Both to make him stop talking and to get rid of the obvious fact that he wanted to be more than friends with me.

Then my mind processed more of the current situation. I had my back against the arm of the couch, my legs pulled up to my chest. Dereck sat facing me, so close I could smell the alcohol on his breath and see the drunken glassiness in his eyes. So close that his chest almost touched my legs. What did touch me was his hand. It was under the skirt of my dress. Against my thigh.

I wanted to move away, get off the couch. But an icy feeling spread through my body that made me unable to move.

"And you've always been so private, but you're different with him. I've known you longer, why aren't you like that with me?" His words were slurred, and he reached a hand out to cup my cheek.

"Stop it," I mumbled and shook my head. To escape his words. To escape his touch. But either Dereck didn't hear me, didn't see me, or he didn't care.

"How far have you gone with him? Has he fucked you yet?" His voice was stronger and steadier. His hand wasn't on my thigh anymore, but up and on my waist.

"Stop," I said again, my voice a little louder.

"Was he good? Is that it?"

Dereck moved and forced my legs apart with his upper body. His hand, that wasn't under my clothes, went around my back to pull me to him. I placed my hands on his chest to push him away. But the force behind the push seemed to be too little for him to even notice.

The glassiness in his eyes was gone. Instead, they had gotten dark and hungry and wicked, and I knew what that look meant. 

My heart pounded, and I wanted to resist, wanted to scream. But the ice was in my whole body, my mouth parched, and my head repeated the same sentence over and over:

This isn't happening.

"Give me a chance," Dereck muttered before he pressed his lips against mine.

My body was still frozen, and my mind tried to deny it all as the scent of alcohol filled my nostrils. Dereck kept pressing his lips towards mine, his tongue was out, it licked and pressed, tried to open my lips. Then a sharp pain came as he bit my lower lip.

"Relax and give me a chance, Morana," he whispered into my ear, causing nausea that had nothing to do with that I had been drinking. "I promise you'll like it."

That comment finally made me unfreeze. I pushed and hit at his chest, tried to wriggle myself out of his grip.

"Let go!" I screamed at him. But his hold only tightened. He pushed me down, so I was on my back on the couch, he towered over me.

I was trapped, barely able to breathe, not able to move. He brought my arms over my head and held them there in an iron grip. My legs were under his, making it impossible for me to kick.