Hooked [Complete]

41. Blind Urgency

Author's Note: So warning: this one is hot...and graphic. This feels like a Friday chapter, but here I am, posting it in the middle of the week! Yikes!

Song for this Chapter: Call Out My Name by The Weeknd

"Cerridwen, release me." Sean growled with all the witchtimbre he could muster.

Carrie ignored him. She'd been ignoring him for hours.

She had him magically tied into a straight back chair. She'd put him there as soon as Lana left. He wasn't even sure how long ago that was, because he'd been so lost in fantasies of returning the bondage favor to Carrie.

Which he assumed was the point of this—to exhaust the Sexwitch. Or for Carrie to increase her tolerance to his Witchtimbre.

Now that he had exhausted his kinky fantasies, he was paying attention to what Carrie was doing. He could smell fresh cardboard. He could hear the sound of package tape pulling off the roll, and the soft swoosh of Carrie's clothes being dumped into the boxes. Now that he realized what she was doing, he had begun to think she had a different reason for tying him up.

She was packing. She was leaving.

He was getting very worried that she wasn't planning on taking him with her.

"Finished," she muttered and then he heard the tiny little door creak open.

"Where does the door go, Carrie? Are you leaving me?" he asked softly.

"I should," she replied coldly. "You scared the shit out of me, Sean Faraday."

"What? Why?" Sean asked, trying to keep her talking. Anything was better than being in the dark, bound, and ignored.

"You made me think I was dying," she said softly.

"What!?!" Sean hissed. "Why would you think that?"

"Healing your eyes shouldn't even be a serious matter, but when I couldn't do it, I thought my power must be all but gone. I've been thinking I could crumble to dust at any second."

"Oh Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Sean murmured, his witchtimbre full of comfort. "I've been in my own head. I didn't realize. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I'm your goddess. It's my job to take care of you, ease your worries. Not the other way around."

Sean let out a ragged breath. "Well, come take care of me, then."

"Oh, now you want to be healed?" Carrie's voice was softer, the coldness melting away. He heard her boots clacking toward him a few steps.

"I never wanted to be blind, but I thought staying that way would prevent my vision from coming true. I thought being blind would keep Lana safe."

"It won't. It can't," Carrie assured him. "I will keep her safe. I will keep you safe. As long as I have power," she murmured.

Sean hated the doubt and worry in her voice. "Show me your power. Heal me."

"Yeah, I think it's time to heal you in the surest way I know how," she said softly. Still, she didn't come near him. He heard her boots unzip and drop heavily to the floor, one at a time. Then he heard a third zipper—a much shorter zipper. Carrie's tiny, short-waisted jeans, he imagined. He heard the soft rush of fabric as she pushed them off, and the heavy sound they made as she slung against the wall. And then the barely discernible sound of her shirt, falling to the floor.

He licked his lips. "What are you doing?" he asked, his witchtimbre thick in his words. He knew exactly what she was doing, he just wanted to hear her say it.