The Witch and Her Second Chance

4 | Let’s take this back to my place

Verin settled his bill and followed Celeste's swaying hips through the cobble-stoned streets to her home.

They lived in the city of Kancha, the capital of the warlock nation of Sharaya. Warlocks shared their world with other nations of Therien and took up more than a third of land. As a race, they lived in metropolitan hubs, with little agriculture. They had hazy relationships with those outworlder communities from the human realm and strained alliances with the other nations of Therien.

Celeste lived in one of the many community buildings, equivalent to an apartment building, the same as him. The building had six floors, and she lived on the third. They took the rickety lift up, its mechanism making a high-pitched squeal as the box lifted them.

Verin pursed his lips–this was what he'd wanted his new alloy to be used for, high use artifices could have lasted so much longer. Or by utilising it for military use, their army wouldn't co opt the existing resources away from the citizens that needed it.

"Mistress?" A voice called from her bedroom, as they entered, wavering with uncertainty.

"Yes, Victim. It's me."

There was a little sob. "Can I come out now?"

Verin gave her a questioning look as he removed his jacket, settling into her chaise lounge.

She grinned wickedly, "I might have tied him up… just a little."

"Go deal with him."

Celeste skipped to her room. Verin could hear her speaking soothingly to her toy. After a few minutes the man came out with her, settling by her feet as she sat next to Verin. Almost immediately, Tim's stomach grumbled.

"You feed him today?"

She flashed her hands. "I'll do it later."

Tim rested his head on her lap and closed his eyes. Verin could see he had bags under them. He felt tenderness towards him, considering what he'd done to him the night before. "Feed him now."

With a tick in her jaw, she angrily pushed Tim off her and stalked to her small kitchenette, grabbing bread and cheese.

"And don't forget the alcohol," he eyed the young man, who was sitting with his knees pressed to his chest, his eyes never leaving his mistress.

With a growl of frustration, she roughly searched through her cabinets for some wine and two glasses. The wine and glasses were teleported to the small table in her seating area. She carried the food back and unceremoniously dropped it next to Tim, then gently poured her and Verin a glass of wine.

"Thank you, mistress," Tim uttered between ravenous bites of bread and cheese. He was obviously struggling to swallow the dry food down. Verin sighed dramatically and got up to fetch him a glass of water.

“Do you have any tonic?”

Her eyebrows almost touched her hairline, “He’s fine, Verin. Humans are hardier than they seem.”

“Did you have him soak in a bath after…?”

“I’m not a monster, Verin,” wounded irritation laced her voice. “He had a soak. I soothed him. He’s fine.” When Verin remained standing in her kitchen area, she growled in exasperation and pointed to her cooler.

Verin obtained the small vial, pouring it into the glass of water before handing it to the large man, huddling at her feet. “It’ll just help if he needs it.”

"Thank Verin," she snapped at Tim.

"Thank you… sir." He gratefully accepted the water, "Thank you, thank you." He drank greedily, sighing before returning to the food.

With that over, Celeste relaxed, no longer angry–her emotions often changed swiftly.

Abruptly pushing Verin back, she undid the top two buttons of his collarless shirt, opening it wide so his smooth caramel chest could be seen. He tried to swat her away, but she snaked her hands to tussle his hair from its rigid, swept-back position, his fringe flopping down to tickle his forehead. "What in Boden are you doing?"

"We need a picture for your profile." She faced her mobile device around so he could see one she did for herself. She was wearing a red lace negligee, her n*****s visible through the sheer fabric, her finger in her mouth.

"Sweet Netherrealm," he couldn't help saying. He glanced at Tim, who was now slowing down his eating. Poor guy never had a chance.

She smiled with faux shyness. "Now sit back and give me that sexy, broody look." She took a picture and frowned. “Broody, not constipated."

He snatched the device off her and looked at the picture she'd taken. Okay yeah, he looked strained.

"Fine," he drained his glass of wine and refilled it, taking a couple of mouthfuls before resting back again, reclining slightly. He looked up at the ceiling for a second, trying to relax. This all felt ridiculous. Breathing out his tension he looked back at Celeste.

The tip of her tongue hit her bottom lip as she took the shot.

"Hot," she mumbled as she rapidly worked through her phone and created a new profile for him.

He watched over her shoulder as she worked. He caught a glimpse of the photo and had to admit it was better than the first one.

"Okay… what do you want as your bio?"

"What does yours say?"

"I like to fuck."

He laughed, collecting his wine and sipping it as a smile fought to stay on his lips. She took another picture of him.

"Hey," he chastised absentmindedly.

She grinned and got back to work. "How about… I'm serious enough I don't need to be in a serious relationship?"

He just shrugged, catching a slight edge to her voice. Even after all these years, he didn't understand how her brain worked.

Celeste and he had been lovers when they were younger, but they had been too much for each other, too quick to anger and jealousy, too hurtful. They had even been convinced they were mates when they were teenagers, before the age of the call, and they were bitterly disappointed when it turned out they weren't. Fated mates weren't common among warlocks, but they'd still foolishly had hoped.

Warlocks didn’t support monogamous relationships until later in life when some would settle into companion-based relationships or if they find their fated mates.

He watched the profile of her face as she worked. While Celeste came from a paired-up warlock couple, her home life had been less than a happy one–sadly, not uncommon in this society. Verin grew up as a ward, so he never had a family. He hadn’t been able to give her what she wanted then, and he still didn’t know what he wanted now.

Their enduring relationship had taken work, mainly from her, but they'd come to a sort of friendship. If it weren't for her, he'd not have anyone. The realisation wasn't new, but his fragile state and the alcohol were making him sappy, nostalgic for the stupid kids they'd been together.

She selected a bunch of options, but she did not check in with him.

"All done," she handed the device to him, twisting so she brought her legs up and nestled into his side. Tim shuffled closer to the lounge, resting his chin by her legs and watching her face with adoration.

Celeste explained the filtering options.

"Gender, couple? What does that mean?"

"Two people in a relationship."

Interesting, he thought. He did enjoy being with two people at once. He scanned through the other options, Celeste explaining what some of the unfamiliar terms meant. He selected couples thinking he'd look through the additional options another time.

They sipped their wines as they flicked through profiles. They even laughed together, the wine doing its job of loosening Verin up.

"Whoa," Celeste exclaimed as they came across a profile of two women. One was shorter with light brown skin and short edgy hair, she had dark brown eyes, framed by long, thick dark lashes–a smile playing over her lips. The taller one had her chin resting on the shorter woman's shoulder, her arms wrapped around her from behind. This woman was captivating. Her hair was red, but not like Celeste's rich auburn, but a bright copper red. Her freckles exploded across her skin, her large hazel eyes taking up much of her upper face, her large lips the lower.

Where the darker woman was staring off to the side, the redhead was staring right at the camera.

"What does FFM mean? Male unicorn..?" He was reading their bio.

"They're looking for a male…" Celeste glanced at his face noting his interest, "just for sex."

He swiped right.

~*~