Brewing Them

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Callan wasn't joking when he said he had a room upstairs. It was a small apartment in the building where the bar was below. I guess it made sense to why I had seen the bar in my dreams. But I could be only sure about it after I would've seen the mark of the pentacle.

The sound of the water dripping from the shower made its way to my ears. I sank the clothes into the small bucket of water and let them rest while I lingered around.

It was odd that Callan was from the court.

What was he doing here?

Whoever stayed at the royal court was untouchable and beyond reach. He was closer to Alexandria than I could be. Why couldn't she figure it out on her own? She was one of the oldest witches alive.

I pushed the bucket of his clothes to the side and turned around to leave the room but before I could do, the doorway was blocked by Callan. He was only in his towel, his hair drenched from the water, and his eyes even brighter.

I swallowed hard as he placed a hand over the wall and leaned forward.

My eyes lowered to his bare chest. Nothing. His arms were clear as well. There was no mark of the pentacle. I was wrong. I had to be. But his legs were still covered by the towel.

God, he was hot.

I stepped back.

And he was dripping.

I had never seen a man shirtless before, at least not in reality. I looked away before any feelings rose inside me. This wasn't what I was here for.

"I soaked your clothes..." I trailed off, my heartbeat racing at his presence. It made me feel odd and cornered.

"No one is this clumsy," he drew his hand down from the doorway and stepped inside the room. "After living for more than a hundred years, there are a few things I picked up on the way and the first thing is never to believe a witch. What are you doing here, little girl? And what are your intentions?" He questioned, sounding a bit fumed. His gaze darkened as it sank into mine.

I swallowed hard, shaking my head, "Nothing. It was an—accident. I don't mean any harm." I clarified, but that didn't stop him from inching closer to me and trapping me against the wall.

Grabbing my wrist, he pulled away the glove my hand was inside. Even under the dim lights, the blackness in my veins could be seen. His eyes flicker down and then back up at me. A chill down my spine. His fingers tightened around my wrist as I tried to pull away from him but he didn't let me go.

"You practice black magic," He held onto me as if he was going to behead me himself. I didn't answer him. A moment passed and he dropped my hand. "Have you done something? I was meant to leave this place last night."

Last night.

But there was no mark on him. He couldn't be one of them. My magic couldn't have stopped him from leaving.

"I—I—" My throat closed.

His hand wrapped around my throat. My back pressed against the wall and at that moment I realized the trouble I had gotten myself into. This was just the beginning. I should never have taken Alexandria's offer. I should've let her kill me instead of a brutal death by a night eater.

His canines lengthened and his eyes brightened into a light shade of crimson red. I tried to flee but his grasp on me was strong and powerful.

A fucking royal.

"I didn't do anything," I shook my head, panicking. "I had seen a vision and that was all."

"What vision?" He questioned.

"I don't know," His fingers sank into my neck and I continued, "There was someone in the bar—I don't know if it was you or someone else, but I needed to find him. That was all." The words came out quickly. I nearly blurted everything out but kept some of the truth inside.

"I don't believe you."

"Please. Why would I lie?" I whispered, shaking my head.

"You've no idea what you've done walking to a night eater's house," His voice became different as he began lusting for my blood. I could see it in his eyes as they became lighter. "You're not leaving anywhere unless I have some taste of you."

My mind reeled with several thoughts. I couldn't think straight, not with his bare chest merely inches away from touching mine and certainly not with his hand around my throat.

"Take it," I offered, willingly. "But let me leave alive." It was the only way.

A witch was never meant to collide with a night eater ever. Our ancestors had turned them into who they were now and they despised us for what we did, for the blood lust.

"Not from your neck." He moved his hand away.

Something quivered inside me.

"Then where?" I asked, my voice breathy.

Fuck.

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