This woman was fresh.
Dripping with the fruity aroma of youth and the acidic scent of fear.
With the Change on me, I could make out each individual scent. The herb-like smell still clinging to her hair. The salt of sweat. The must of her clothing from being in a cold, enclosed space. And, finally, the fucking intoxicatingly sweet scent of her pussy. Even through the layers of clothes. Even though she wasn't turned on.
Fuck, I couldn't imagine what she would smell like if she was.
Not that I was thinking of fucking a witch.
It went against everything we believed in.
We were on different sides, after all.
Contrary to popular belief, witches weren't the evil ones. These tree-hugging, moon-dancing, earth-loving worshippers of the God and Goddess.
They were the good ones.
We were the bad guys.
There was no denying her beauty. It was in the creaminess of her flawless, milk-like skin, in the softly pointed chin, the delicate cupid's-bow mouth with fat, pouty lips, in the delicate nose with the slightly upturned tip, the high cheekbones, the proud forehead, the golden, honey-brown eyes framed by thick black lashes that almost looked fake.
But the witches didn't do fake.
No makeup, no manmade fabrics.
The only thing this witch had that she wasn't born with was that crescent moon tattoo high on her forehead, the tips sneaking up into her hair, small and delicate and a symbol of the life we had taken her away from.
"D-don't r-rape me," the witch stammered, her voice as sweet as the smell of her.
A hiss worked its way out of me, making a shiver course through her.
"Don't be disgusting." To that, those nicely arched brows of hers furrowed. "We don't fuck witches," I informed her, feeling my rage start to dissipate, my body Changing back into the human form that, after all this time, was somehow becoming more comfortable than my true form. Maybe because this environment was not conducive to supporting my true form. That was the only logical explanation.
"A-are you going to e-eat me?"
Well, there was an idea. Though, I was pretty sure the eating I had in mind was very different than what she meant. My fucking mouth salivated at my idea, though. My cock was hardening just thinking about it. That sweet taste on my tongue.
"If we wouldn't fuck you, why the hell would we eat you?" I shot back, watching the confusion and relief mix together on her face.
"Then what am I doing here?"
"If we don't want to fuck or eat you?" I clarified, snorting. "Because of the treaty."
"Well, yes. But what purpose do I have here?"
"Right now, your purpose is to stop being fucking sad so the goddamn rain will stop."
To that, I was surprised to see a spark of a flame dancing around in those unique eyes of hers.
"I'm supposed to stop being sad," she repeated, voice no longer quivering. If anything, it seemed to be getting stronger.
"When you tore me away from my mother? My family? My friends? My coven? My entire way of life? And then you stuck me in a cold and dingy basement with no way to bathe myself, feeding me animal flesh, and denying me any basic dignity? I'm not supposed to be sad over all of that?"
"Let me rephrase," I said, making my voice firm even if I appreciated the fact that she was all fire and spirit instead of crying and shaking. "I don't give a fuck if you're sad, but make the rain stop."
"I can't control it," she shot back.
"You're a witch. That's what you do."
"Yes, well, I am a very poor witch. That's why I'm here, isn't it? They wouldn't exactly send one of the ones destined for greatness now, would they?"
I'd never given that any thought. Of course they would send us their least talented, their most troublesome. Maybe that was why we'd had issues with so many of them.
"If you can't control it, how will it stop then?" I asked.
"A bath might be a good start."
"I've been down here for a week and haven't been able to get clean. I am starting to smell. It's making me miserable."
She was right about that.
Just wrong about the context.
Maybe humans wouldn't like her smell.
But I was finding it difficult to keep my cock from straining against the fly of my jeans at the heady sweetness emanating from her.
"If I let you go upstairs and bathe, you will stop the rain?"
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