The King's Blood Witch

Bad blood

Salvatore had been going insane. Ever since he had caught scent of that goddess damned fabric his body was at war.

He couldn't sleep, his nights spent tossing and turning, a terrible and nauseating feeling of missing something. Of being alone in the world begging to be held by someone. His mate.

Some went their entire lives without being in contact with their mates, living life as nothing had changed. Many of those Salvatore knew to be lonely at times, but they lived just as well.

But there was no mistake when you met your mate, your entire body longed to be with them. Salvatore had only ever heard stories of the extreme feeling and he assumed it couldn't be the torture others described.

How wrong he was.

He couldn't sleep, he couldn't work, he could barely eat. Every moment of his life was dedicated to remembering that smell, of wondering where his mate was and what she was doing.

Was she hurt? Was she cold? Had something happened to her? Every second without her - this woman he had never met - was pure torture, as if he had been thrown into a fiery pit and his skin was being peeled from his body.

He didn't even know what the girl looked like and he was sure he'd already trade his life for her.

But she was a witch, that was one detail Salvatore knew for certain. He knew it wasn't the bastard king's treasure... no way in hell she would've been left unattended in the forest. Xavier must've seen it wrong, but she was still a witch.

Witches and wolves had bad blood.

Eventually he gave in and found the white torn cloth, bringing the fabric to his nose and inhaling the sweet scent. He would never admit it, but he took it with him almost everywhere, the fabric hidden in his pocket. It helped for a while.

Until it didn't. Until he could no longer rub the silk between his fingers when he felt his heart hurt. Instead the smell began to fade, and he was only left longing even more for something that had never been there.

Helping the witch would be a good distraction he decided. Until they transported to the cabin and he immediately smelled the painfully familiar scent of fresh roses and ancient books.

Salvatore rushed inside, all but breaking the door down and gaining a noise of protest form the witch. The trace got stronger, his eyes frantically searching the small room before they landed on a small figure huddled in the corner, shivering rapidly.

He wasted no time, the beast inside him demanding he comfort and protect his mate. He knelt next to her, taking the ice cold woman in his arms.

"How could you leave her like this?!" He demanded turning his head to the old witch.

She shrugged, walking further into the room and sitting on the old rocking chair. "I didn't tell her to sleep on the floor."

Salvatore wanted to argue - to yell at the witch, but he was quickly distracted by the scent of fresh and dried blood wafting from the girl in his arms.

He gently peeled the blankets off her, she made a rumble of protest but did nothing to stop him. Salvatore didn't think she was conscious enough to do so, and wasn't surprised when he peeled off the old bandage to see the wound.

The bone was peeking out of the torn flesh, dried blood sticking around the entire thing. There horrible peaks of yellow, red and some dark enough to look black. It was a weeping mess of venom, puss and blood. There was no single wonder why she looked half dead.

Salvatore tried not not to think about how the beast inside him wanted to murder both the witch and Xavier and instead focused on the task at hand.

"This will sting at first," he whispered to the barely alive girl.