Witchtryst: Book One by Sable Cross

Author:Sable Cross [Cross, Sable]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

Nyx

October looks up at me, her eyes reflecting the dance of candlelight, and in them, I see the reflection of my own unyielding determination. I close the doors behind us, shutting out the night, and all the threats it holds, sealing us within the walls of my ancient abode, where the promise of dawn is just a distant dream.

Ushering October down the long corridor, our steps are muffled by the plush carpet that runs like a river of shadows beneath us. We pass portraits of those who've come before, their eyes etched with secrets and silent judgments. I feel October's curiosity, her gaze darting from one painting to the next, but she says nothing, trusting me to lead the way.

“Here,” I murmur as we reach a heavy oak door at the end of the hall. With a gentle push, it swings open, revealing my sanctuary, my fortress within these walls.

The room greets us with an air of solemn purpose. Steel glints from every corner—swords, daggers, crossbows—all meticulously arranged, their lethal edges promising pain and protection. The scent of leather hangs thickly, emanating from holsters, belts, and sheaths that adorn the mannequin forms standing around the room. They are my silent army, ready to be awakened at a moment's notice.

At the very center sitting atop a wooden platform is my coffin, but under the window is a chaise lounge where I often read or relax whenever I have a spare moment.

October's breath catches, and I know she feels it—the weight of centuries, the countless battles fought and yet to be fought, contained within these four walls.

“Each weapon here has tasted blood,” I say, my voice low and resonant in the charged air. “They're not just tools; they're extensions of myself. Every blade, every bolt is a piece of the puzzle when facing The Evil that haunts our nights.”

I walk over to a glass cabinet, fingers trailing across the surface before I select a slender, silver knife. The metal sings as I draw it from its velvet-lined home, catching the light in a deadly dance.

“Being prepared is more than wielding steel and shadow. It's about understanding your enemy, predicting their moves.” My gaze locks on hers, fierce, unyielding. “And when the time comes, striking without hesitation or mercy.”

October nods, her eyes wide but determined, reflecting the flicker of candles that dot the room, casting dramatic plays of light and darkness upon us. Her courage fuels my own, and I feel the pulse of the night thrumming through my veins—a call to arms, the song of the huntress.

The air is an intoxicating mix of danger and desire, laden with the weight of our shared secrets. October's gaze holds mine, a challenge and an invitation all at once. I can feel the pull, an invisible thread taut between us, vibrating with the energy of suppressed yearnings.

I take a step closer, my movements smooth and deliberate. The distance closes between us, each inch thrumming with the promise of what's to come. Her breath hitches, and I reach out, my fingers tracing the line of her jaw before settling against the warmth of her cheek.

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