The Lycan and His Witch (2 page)

Sadness and regret tinged her
expression. “I want nothing.” She walked to the table and reached
for the vase.

Bryce narrowed his eyes and
lunged forward, his hand snaking out from beneath the chain. The
chains stopped him from moving further, but not before his fingers
brushed her skirt.

She shrieked and jumped
back.

* * * *

Zora felt the blood drain from
her face as she glanced sharply at her skirt and then back at him.
A little more to the left and he would have touched her hand. What
a fool she was for taking her gloves off! Frightened, she ran her
gaze over his face and breathed with relief. He looked very much
alive with his arrogant, dark looks etched in granite, his black
eyes flashing ire.

“I only want the cure. I’ll pay
anything,” he said roughly.

“And I told you I don’t have the
cure.”

His eyes narrowed. “You are a
powerful witch. I heard you can—”

“You heard rumours. My powers
are limited. Spells can be changed…altered, but curses cannot be
removed without their specific cure. I do not know the cure, nor
does anyone else. I’m sorry.”

His expression remained hard,
but she could tell he was disturbed and Zora felt sorry for him.
She knew how a curse destroyed hopes, how darkness and loneliness
followed.

“Untie me. You have no need to
fear me,” he persuaded.

Of course, she didn’t fear him.
She feared
for
him, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.
She frowned, biting her lower lip as she stared at the chains. He
didn’t deserve to be shackled and subdued. He only wanted his
freedom and his humanity back. Still…could she trust his word?
Could he keep his distance? History told her otherwise, even though
she’d taken great measures to revolt him with her appearance.

“I cannot.”

He swallowed hard, his mouth
tightening. “Please. You have my word, I will not harm you.”

Without thinking, Zora
whispered, “You might touch me.”

Disbelief lit his features
before he quickly masked his expression with a hooded look.

She knew what he’d thought, and
she almost laughed out loud if she didn’t think their situation was
as dire as it was. He thought she was afraid he would ravish
her.

“You have my word that I will
not touch you,” he insisted.

The brief flicker she’d
witnessed on his face had said it all. He found her totally and
completely undesirable. She was satisfied.

“And you promise to stand a few
paces away from me?”

His expression turned into a
mixture of annoyance and shock. No doubt, he thought she was as
insane as she was ugly, but she didn’t care.

“I promise,” he replied, his
mouth curling sardonically.

Zora believed him. Slowly, she
raised her hand, stared at it, and frowned. Looking around, she
spotted her gloves on the table beside her and slipped them on. She
raised her hand again and began to voice her incantation to release
him, ignoring the narrowed look of curiosity still on his face when
he’d watched her slip on her gloves.

Let him think she was a crazy
old kook. The truth was a hell of a lot worse.

Chapter Three

Zora whispered the incantation
and released him.

As he removed the chains, he
gave her a questioning look. “How did you manage to bring me
inside?”

“What do you mean?”

“Outside. When I blacked out.
How did you bring me inside?” He straightened, running a rough hand
through his black hair, which almost reached his wide shoulders. He
raised a dark brow as she stared at him.

She cleared her throat, her gaze
wavering under his pointed look.

“I used my wagon,” she
replied.

“How long was I under?” Bryce
could tell through the windows that the sun had lowered
considerably.

“A few hours.” Her expression
changed to alarm and then concern. “Oh, I’m sorry. You must have
been travelling for days in these woods. Has it been a while since
you ate?”

The question took Bryce by
surprise and he stared at her. She appeared genuinely concerned and
her compassion reached out and warmed him for a brief, yet odd
moment. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone showed him
concern. He snapped himself out of his momentary lapse of sanity.
He couldn’t forget she was a witch, and he wasn’t sure she was
telling the truth about her inability to remove his werewolf
curse.

He had to find the truth. If he
befriended her, would she be more willing to help him? Then a
thought formed in his mind.

“Actually, I
am
hungry. I
am also in need of shelter for a couple of days.” He waited,
watching her as she contemplated his request. “I’ve been travelling
for a long time to find you and I could use a rest, a warm bath,
food.” He knew he was playing on her sympathy and he had the grace
to feel ashamed, but he didn’t have a choice. She was hiding
something. He’d felt it the moment he met her.

“You…you can stay here for a
couple of days,” she finally said. “I have another bedroom you can
use and I have plenty of food.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll make you something to eat
and prepare your room.”

He just bought himself a couple
of days with her, he thought as he watched her leave, staring at
her ample back and her limp grey hair.

Curiously, Bryce drew his gaze
around the living room. She lived in a nice, homey, and comfortable
place. Not the dark, cobweb-infested manor he’d imagined from the
rumoured reports he’d heard in his travels. He wondered how long
she’d lived in seclusion. He grimaced, realising their
similarities. They were a lot alike—loners, outcasts, hideous
beasts feared by all.

His gaze caught the mantle above
her fireplace, surprise halting his thoughts.

“What the hell,” he
whispered.

Rising slowly, he walked to it,
his frown deepening as he drew near. It couldn’t be. He cast a
disbelieving gaze over the small ornaments and objects made up
entirely of gold.

“Damnation,” he whispered
hoarsely. No wonder she wasn’t interested in his offer to buy the
cure with gold. She had enough of it.

Bryce stared at the largest
statue near the end of the mantle. He picked it up and stared at
it. The figure was of a wolf sitting on its haunches by the feet of
a beautiful maiden whose hand rested on its head.

“Put that down!”

The sudden voice startled him so
much he almost dropped the statue. He was grateful he was holding
it with both hands. He turned around toward the voice, then turned
back to the mantle, gently setting it to its rightful place.

Zora stood by the entry of the
living room holding a tray of bread, cheese, sliced meats, and
fruits, her expression both distressed and embarrassed.

If he wanted to befriend the
hag, he wasn’t making a good start.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to
intrude,” he said.

He watched her walk briskly into
the room. She deposited the tray on the dining table, straightened,
and gave him an apologetic look. “No,
I’m
sorry. I shouldn’t
have reacted like that. I’m…I’m not used to having people
here.”

He glanced at the tray laden
with food.

“Please sit down and eat.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.
He wasn’t lying when he said he was hungry. Bryce took a seat and
reached for a slab of meat. “Thank you.” He motioned with his head
to her mantle. “That’s an interesting collection you have
there.”

“Yes. It’s been in my family for
generations.”

Bryce frowned. “It’s no wonder
you refused my offer for gold. You have a fortune sitting up
there.” He swallowed the last bite of meat and reached for the
bread and cheese. “The woman and the wolf is an interesting
statue.”

She looked uncomfortable.

“Yes. It’s my most valuable
piece.”

“I can see that, judging by its
size.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “Its
value is sentimental, not monetary.”

He gave her a curious look,
watching her visibly tense. It was apparent she
was
uncomfortable talking about the statue so he decided to let the
subject drop.

There was another subject,
however, that he wanted to bring up. “Do you live here alone? I
heard a young woman singing earlier.” He frowned at the memory.
“She had a beautiful voice,” he murmured, almost to himself. “The
voice of an angel.”

“I’m here alone.”

Stunned, he snapped a
disbelieving gaze to her face. Quickly, he recovered from his shock
and schooled his features to appear unmoved. Dammit, he didn’t want
to insult the poor woman into thinking no one like her could sing
so beautifully.

A stab of discomfort shot
through his frame. He was guilty of basing his judgments on her
solely on her appearance.

Her steady, blue gaze disturbed
him, making him wonder again at the beauty of her eyes. They were
out of place with the rest of her.

Troubled by his train of
thought, Bryce reached for his napkin.

“You have a beautiful voice,
Zora,” he said.

“Thank you. I like to sing. It
calms me.”

An unbidden smile rose to his
lips as he thought about the first time he heard her sing and how
the sound calmed him, too. Calmed him too much, he realised—her
singing almost made him forget the wolves circling him.

“It’s a shame no one can enjoy
it as you’re here all by yourself,” he heard himself saying. Damn,
was he starting to feel sorry for her?

She laughed, but it sounded
forced. “My cat enjoys it. Anyway, it’s not so bad being alone. I
keep myself busy with my gardens, my home, and…and other
things.”

“Don’t you feel lonely
sometimes?” The question surprised him and Bryce wondered where it
had sprung from.

Her expression was guarded.
“No.” Suddenly, she motioned with her hand to the kitchen area
behind her. “If you want seconds, please help yourself. I’m going
to make up your room now.”

“Won’t you sit down and eat with
me?” he asked politely.

She shook her head. “No. I’m not
hungry. Besides, I have to prepare the guest room. It’s not often I
have visi—actually, that’s not true,” she ended quietly. “I
never
have visitors. You’re my first.”

She turned and left before he
could say another word.

* * * *

Changing the sheets on his bed
was a welcome change. Zora couldn’t stay another minute with him in
the other room. He was so attractive, his energy was starting to
consume her.

Two days and he would be gone,
she thought. Two days and Morganna’s curse wouldn’t see the light
of day.

* * * *

“That’s what you think, my
sweet, little Zora,” Morganna murmured as she gazed into her
crystal ball. “I have to hand it to you, though. Changing your
appearance was ingenious. It seems I’ve underestimated you. You’re
much brighter than your ancestors, who all failed to save their
true love’s fate.”

She waved a hand and the image
of Zora tucking the bed covers under the mattress began to fade and
then disappeared.

Anger welled in Morganna’s
breast. She would not lose this one. In the past seven hundred
years, she’d never lost one. All her descendants had ended with the
same fate. Death and despair, and Zora was going to be no
different!

“If you think your little
appearance spell can change your destiny, think again,” she
hissed.

Raising her hands, she closed
her eyes and said, “For every warmth he feels, for every stir in
his heart, a part of your true self will be revealed. When love
finally appears, so will your true appearance.”

There. The spell was cast. The
Lycan had already discovered parts of Zora’s beauty, her eyes, her
voice, her kindness.

“The Lycan beast is even
starting to feel compassion for her.” She cackled with evil mirth.
“It’s only a matter of time before he falls in love with her.”

Chapter Four

Zora drew a cursory look around
her guest room to see if she’d missed anything. Her gaze caught the
light film of dust on the dresser. She scowled. It seemed like she
dusted every other day. She went into the hall, opened her cleaning
cupboard, reached for her dust rag and went back to the bedroom. As
she wiped the dresser, her gaze caught her reflection in the
mirror, making her wince.

Without warning, sadness
engulfed her. She would have liked to experience affection, love,
and passion. A first kiss, she mused sadly. It wasn’t just his
handsome looks that affected her, it was more. She saw how he tried
to cover his shock when he’d learned she was the one who’d been
singing. He was kind if he was concerned about hurting an old
witch’s feelings, she thought.

She stared at her face,
wistfully, trying to imagine their first kiss. Slowly, Zora’s
expression fell. He could never even hold her hand.

She stared at her eyes. They
were the only thing out of place. She could see her old self in
them. On some subconscious level, had she left that part of herself
out of her spell? Had it been vanity, pride?

Zora scowled at her reflection.
It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see her, the real her, no matter how
pretty her eyes were. He could never love her in her hideous state.
He might have been kind to her, but he still saw her as a lonely,
ugly, old witch.

It was as it should be. None of
her ancestors had been able to save their true loves, but she was
going to be the first.

I wish I had never met him. I
wish he’d never loved me
, her mother had always told her soon
after Zora’s father had died and her mother had met her true love.
I would have preferred a life never knowing him, never loving
him
.

That’s when Zora’s plan had been
formed. She’d resolved at the tender age of nine to be in control
of her destiny. It was simple. She would make sure her true love
never fell in love with her. Meeting him, however, had always been
a certainty. In all Zora’s ancestry, Morganna’s descendants had
always met their true loves, a Lycan destined to love them.