The Witch’s eyes narrowed, gleaming like rubies in the molten light. Her steps were slow, deliberate, her black lace gown trailing like smoke. The crimson fire around her bent toward her body, coiling lovingly as though desperate to touch her. Heat rolled through the ruined theater, suffocating, sweet with the scent of burning roses and ash.
"Brave little fool," she purred, her voice low and melodic. "You walk into my den and dare to smile at me?"
Kael chuckled, the sound deep, rumbling, reckless. "Smile’s all I’ve got, sweetheart. I thought it might look better than screaming."
Her lips curved, exposing sharp white teeth. She lifted a hand, and fire licked from her fingertips, slithering across the air like serpents. They darted forward, curling around Kael’s bare forearm, dancing alon
