The Witch of the Prophecy

  The Witch of the Prophecy

  Victoria Jayne

  Copyright © 2018 by Victoria Jayne

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Art by Cover Couture

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy if strong sexual situations, violence, and explicit language offends you.

  Connect with Victoria,

  twitter.com/@authorvictoriaj

  AuthorVictoriaJayne@gmail.com

  authorvictoriajayne.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 1

  The fruity fragrance of the potted primrose tangled with the hints of sweat and fresh sex. The pillows and duvet coiled into a heap on the bed. However, the couple responsible for the disheveled state was no longer there.

  The glow from the moon shone through the large window, causing her ebony waves to shimmer, while he stroked his pale, slender fingers through her hair. He couldn’t recall another time in his life when he had felt as content as he did at that moment. His whole world was in this oversized chair.

  Her plump body curved in just the right places; her olive-toned, bare form lounged across his much paler lap. As she flipped through the leather-bound text, Rori leaned in, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. He savored the raw scent of the woman who had captured his formerly still heart. He couldn’t help but smile.

  Turning the page of the old leather-bound book, she read while resting her head against his chest. She was warmer than he was. She had far more life than he did. Perhaps his desire to possess her was something other than infatuation.

  Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he didn’t care the cause; he only wished to have her.

  How long had they sat there? How long had it been since he’d been inside her? How long had it been since she screamed his name?

  Having lost the concept of time long ago, he found it worse when with her. When she shifted her position even slightly, the stimulus stirred his hunger for her again.

  "I can't believe this stuff is so hidden." She broke through his thoughts.

  He smiled. There was much about the world he wanted to show Divina before reality set in.

  "Humans would not be able to handle such information." He stroked her arm with his fingertips. "Or perhaps I should say, they didn't, so we had to take it away and hide it. The world would be a much more violent place if humans knew."

  With a furrowed brow, she turned her glacier-colored eyes that burned his soul, toward him. "You trust me?"

  "You're not fully human," he reminded her, while playfully booping her nose before giving her a soft kiss on the forehead.

  Her innocence drew him in like ants to sugar. He cherished her. These intimate moments with her were more valuable to him than any jewel or treasure.

  "So you keep saying," she grumbled, and once more shifted her hips, eliciting a groan from him.

  He wondered if she knew how those full hips affected him.

  Her smirk told him all he needed to know about that.

  "In all my years, I have yet to be wrong," he whispered in her ear.

  Rolling her eyes before turning them back to the book, she sighed.

  "I'm not sure I can handle the responsibility," she admitted.

  There: her vulnerability. Sure, she was mortal, therefore vulnerable. That wasn't the vulnerability Rori liked. No, the uninhibited honesty she offered him showed her trust in him. How she offered him her true self without concern for self-preservation.

  Naivety.

  He loved her for it and hated himself for what he had to do with it.

  Closing his own eyes, he took in a deep breath of her beautiful scent. Relishing the moment, he pushed the future from his mind.

  In the end, the right now, would be all he had. There was no need to rush it. Right now could end at any moment, and he’d only have the memory to comfort him.

  "You are so much stronger than you know, Divina. I will show you," he said.

  Those wide, innocent blue eyes pinned him once more. He hated the Ember Witches at that moment. He hated prophecies. He hated the world for what it was making him do.

  "You've shown me so much already," she said with wonder in her eyes.

  He forced a smile on his face. "There is so much more."

  Three Years Later

  Rori awoke from his daytime slumber with longing in his heart. Sometimes memories were the worst form of torture. When he let her go, he’d made peace with not having Divina.

  Forced to walk away from her, avoiding her for three years, had helped in achieving that peace. With the prophecy set in motion, he no longer had that luxury. They sent him back to her.

  Chapter 2

  From the shadow of the tent, Rori stepped into the artificially lit fairgrounds. Using the tips of his thumb and forefinger, he cleaned blood from the corners of his mouth that had caught in his trimmed chestnut-colored goatee. The abundance of prey in this setting was a temptation he couldn’t avoid. With his hunger sated, he continued to hunt for Divina through the people overindulging in socially acceptable gluttony and gambling.

  Stalking through the crowd, he curled his finger to his cherub-like, rounded nose while his palm covered his mouth. Attempting to block the nauseating odors of sugary cotton candy and salted popcorn, Rori feared he’d lose his dinner. The melodic repetition of the carousel, joyful cries of children, and the calls of the game vendors impaired his enhanced hearing. Dressed in a charcoal vest over a crisp, white shirt tucked into his jeans, the dark-short-haired Rori didn’t particularly fit in with the crowd. He detested carnivals.

  As Rori rounded the corner of a ring toss, his target came into view. The hand over his deceivingly youthful face dropped, unveiling a sinister grin of triumph. On the fringe of the festival sat a brightly painted, handcrafted, wooden vardo. His cognac gaze fixated on the chalk sandwich board proclaiming five dollars for palm readings and fifteen dollar tarot card readings. Snorting, he rolled his eyes.

  The sounds of glee faded as Rori approached the bottom of the four stairs leading to the entrance of the reading wagon style vardo. Overhearing the muffled conversation within, he grinned delighted to hear her voice once more. Not wanting to inter
rupt her session with a client since he planned to request her assistance, his pale, slender digit trailed along the intricate carvings on the wagon.

  It didn’t take long for a frail, sickly looking woman clutching a tissue to her nose to exit and descend the stairs. Once at the bottom, she turned to repeat her thanks to the woman remaining at the opened entrance of the vardo. Smiling at Rori, the woman passed him and disappeared around the corner heading into the crowded carnival.

  Hands in his pockets, he lifted his attention to face his prey and was awestruck. Candles flickered behind her and offered a soft, golden glow, flattering her sun-kissed skin. The peasant blouse and flowing skirt hid her curvy body, but Rori remembered it. A breeze sent strands of her thick, wavy, ebony mane across her oblong face accented by angular cheeks. Memories of their time together danced through his mind, and he couldn’t help but grin fondly, longing for different circumstances.

  “No.” The quick and curt response cut through Rori’s thoughts.

  The object of his lust gathered the colorful linen of her ankle-length skirt as she descended the stairs toward her sandwich board.

  Rori’s smile remained, always appreciating a challenge. “I haven’t asked anything.”

  “The answer is still no,” she asserted closing the sign.

  “Oh good, you’re done for the night.” He strolled closer to her ignoring her negative response to him.

  Rori’s nose wrinkled when she stomped past him, lugging the cumbersome sign. The scent of patchouli, sage, and myrrh clung to her. The incense covered her natural, earthy scent. He wanted to scrub the artificial aromas from her. Instead, he plucked the sign from her grasp effortlessly.

  “You’ll cost me business,” she growled and tried to yank the sign back from him.

  He admired her fire. He missed it. It had been too long.

  “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have a business,” he said as he relented and released her sign.

  Thump. With the sign clutched in Divina’s hands, she fell back onto her behind. Rori chuckled.

  Flushing red, his raven-haired beauty glowered at Rori from the ground. Abandoning the sign, she clamored to her feet. Divina dusted herself off. “Won’t let me forget that, will you?” Rage flashed in her narrowed, icy blue eyes. “I’m not helping you!”

  Pointing an accusatory finger at him, she jabbed it as if to accentuate her point. That long slender digit had once been used to tease him. Was it possible to be attracted to a finger? He grinned.

  With a twitch to her reddened cheeks, she huffed. Lowering her hands, she balled the two into white knuckled fists at her sides. The natural beauty before him glowed when she was angry, and it only stirred more need for her.

  Attempting a neutral expression, he diverted his gaze and cleared his throat. “Can we move past your futile attempts at denying me the request—” When Divina’s mouth opened to interrupt him, he held up a hand. “That I have yet to make, and get to the point where I make it?”

  “You… you are—” She stammered with shaking fists.

  “Charming? Devastatingly handsome? Sexy?” He waggled his brows suggestively. His appreciative gaze swept over her. Licking his plump lower lip, he remembered her flavor. It had been too long since he tasted her.

  “Dangerous,” she spat. She bent to grab her sign. With purpose, she ascended the short staircase. “And an asshole,” she shot over her shoulder.

  “You seem mad,” he said while cheerily following behind her.

  “You seem not to understand the word no.” She dumped the sign inside the heavily adorned yet sparsely decorated vardo and turned to him. With her back to the inside of her wagon, Divina’s arm’s outstretched to take hold of the doorframe. Her curvaceous form, hidden by the loose, almost costume-like clothing she wore, blocked his entrance to her tiny home.

  “Dreadful word.” Remaining at the bottom step, forced to look up at her, Rori had to admit, it wasn’t a bad angle. Doubting there were any bad angles for this fiery witch, he took the opportunity to appreicate her features.

  Once again her effortless beauty stole his breath. How he wished he could comb his fingers through the tangled mass of dark hair. How he wished to bury his nose in the crook of her neck once more. His gaze lingered on the pulsing jugular vein, and his mouth watered.

  “I hate you,” she declared bringing him back to the present.

  Holding a hand to his barely beating heart, Rori gasped. “Why?” feigning shock. “I’m lovely.”

  “I trusted you.” Her anger seemed to waver, replaced with hurt and a crack to her voice.

  Momentarily, the pang of guilt stung. However, Rori’s mouth was quicker, and he said, “Well then, you can’t exactly blame me, can you? That was your mistake.”

  Silence.

  Shit. Guilt and regret swirled within Rori’s chest immediately raising his temperature, if that were possible. He bit his lip as if that could somehow pull back his words. Sucking in a breath through his tightly clenched teeth he braced himself for her reaction.

  Slowly, she shook her head back and forth, her jaw tight. Yep, hurt reflected in those eyes. It seemed she remembered, too. He focused on a particularly intricate rose carving in the vardo, unable to keep his gaze on her. He felt something. He wasn’t used to that. She had done that to him before, caused him to feel things. Maybe things were better this way.

  He was a vampire. A vampire with feelings was weak. Feelings could be exploited and used against him. He couldn’t be weak anymore.

  He shoved his hands back into the pockets of his dark washed, cuffed, blue jeans and looked toward the sky. He had gone too far with that last quip. It wasn’t fun anymore.

  “Can we put a pin in that hate?” he asked before actually looking at her. “I really do have something I need to discuss with you.”

  Chapter 3

  Divina could spit nails at the way Rori spoke so casually to her, so nonchalantly, so flippantly. As if they didn’t have a history together; had he forgotten what he put her through last time?

  Folding her arms over her chest, she tried to hide her flipping from fury at his mere presence to pain at having him show up in her life once more. The thump bump of her heart thundered in her ears just from seeing him. Seeming to race, she vibrated where she stood. Battling with her fight or flight instincts, she glared at the man with the deceiving babyface.

  With fingers twitching, she held back the urge to punch him. Barely restraining the desire to ram her knee into his groin, she scowled at him. As her ire festered within her, the prickle of nature coursed through her, and her mind ran through a short catalogue of spells to hobble him.

  Yet, the more she glowered into his youthful features with the alabaster skin and plump lips, a warmth blossomed in her chest. She wanted to hurt him, but if she was honest with herself, a small part of her wanted to kiss him. Fuck! She had loved him once. He threw that away.

  He took one more step up, joining her on the landing, just in front of her door. The button of his tailored vest grazed her arm, and it felt like lightening rocketing her heart. Sucking in an audible breath as he closed in on her, trapping her on the landing, Divina felt like a gazelle cornered by a lion.

  Holding her ground, attempting to appear stronger than she felt, Divina’s arms fell and she flexed her fingers, balling them into fists and relaxing. The thought of summoning the wind, to throw him back away from her had her fingertips itching. A hint of cool pine, what was left of his cologne, twirled in the air wafting its way to her nose and brought back memories of snuggling with him and the comfort he had once given her.

  Crowding her as if he belonged there, he took ownership of that tiny platform, made smaller by his presence in her space. Placing his soft hands on her upper arms, Divina jolted and her eyes snapped open. Narrowing them, she scanned his face again, for something, an intention. Why was he there? What did he want?

  “Divina, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t feel it necessary,” he said with tenderness. The
softness in his large, brown eyes reminded her of a puppy begging for food.

  Ill prepared for the conflict of emotions triggered by his touch, she wriggled out of his grasp. Glaring at him, she took half a step back and hit the door of her wagon. The warmth in his touch evidenced he’d fed recently, and as much as she warred with the idea of the old romance they once had, his lips had touched someone else. If she could focus on that, she’d be able to hold onto the anger she desperately needed not to succumb to his charm.

  Seeing no avenue of escape without the use of spells, which would be ill-advised with the amount of humans lingering about, she sighed in resignation. Hearing him out would be the only way to get him out of her hair. Reaching behind her, while keeping her eye on him, she turned the knob and pushed the door in.

  Stepping inside her wagon gave her some space to breathe freely again. Though the space was tight, the few feet between her and Rori released the tether he seemed to have around her. Making her way inside, Divina sat behind the small, foldable, wall table upon a pillowed couch which doubled as a bed. With a wave of her hand, she gestured for him to take a seat opposite her.

  Though she had just backed herself into a corner in a sense, the table offered a barrier between them. Preventing him from invading her personal space, she hoped it would keep her head clear.