Otherworldly Discipline: A Witch's Lesson (25 page)

“And just think!” Charlotte chirped proudly when Alice r
aised
her head
out of
the water. “Moriarty and Ashcroft were never going to let me touch you! Thought I’d screw you all up or that you’d go into some murderous, desperate rage to kill me or use me to get back to your hive!”

Alice shook her head, still astounded by how she felt—like she was
normal
! But she could still remember how she did feel. Maybe she would have used Charlotte, if she had enough strength to? “Well, I’m happy you’re comfortable with breaking the rules,” Alice admitted.

“Of course I am,” Charlotte said, and then added with a wink, “I’m an American.”

“You think they’ll figure out it was you who caused the fire?” Alice asked, looking a bit worried for Charlotte, although she doubted that a witch would be so easily chided, or even kicked out.

“They can bite me,” Charlotte replied confidently. “I’m a total success. Besides, once they see you, how can they possibly be upset with me?” She gave an honest, innocent shrug. “Besides, Moriarty needs to get back to his old self. It’s been forever now since I’ve been berated
by him
, and I’m actually beginning to miss it. I mean, what are they gonna do? Give me a spanking for bending the rules a little?”

Alice giggled at the idea, blushing slightly as she recalled Moriarty spanking her as play over a month ago. But she couldn’t help but notice that Charlotte was blushing, too.

*
*
*

Moriarty was exhausted when he came back into the room. Of course, he was exhausted before he ran outside to take care of a fire, and then track down a whole barn full of animals in sub-freezing temperatures.

And then he came into a miracle: Alice was sleeping, peacefully. She wasn’t shuddering nor convulsing. She was just lightly breathing, as if she wasn’t in any pain at all. In fact, she was sleeping deeply enough that she hadn’t heard him come in.

He felt ridiculous with how slow he was moving as he sat down to tug off his hunting boots, hung up his coat and wool cap, and then got into bed with her, never taking his eyes off of her. But his paranoia must have worked, because she didn’t wake.

He rolled over to be as close to her as he dared and took a breath of her. Lord, she smelt heavenly, and her body was radiating warmth. He would have killed to be able to put his arms around her, but he couldn’t risk waking her and restarting her nightmare.

Sleep came quickly to him, anyway. Last time he’d been so tired he was fighting in a war, one battle after another for a string of two months as he barely ate and slept on the ground. That being said, even in that scenario he’d probably slept more than he had in this one. Alice had emotionally drained him. He couldn’t help feeling bad for her, wishing that he could just take her pain and give it to himself. But he was absolutely worthless to help her.

Needless to say, he was absolutely flabbergasted when he woke up, feeling light, fluttery kisses on his shoulder. Alice’s hand was petting his stomach over his shirt, slowly trying to put her arms around him.

Maybe it felt nice for a moment, but then he worried that she was going to make a move to kill him. It had happened before—Moriarty wouldn’t be the first man seduced and killed by a recovering Nymph, after all. Nymphs would commonly find strength and power they didn’t even know they had.

He grabbed her hand before his eyes opened, but then sat up and looked down at Alice’s wide, embarrassed eyes.

Her hand was so still in his hand. It wasn’t shaking; it was warm
,
not cold or clammy. And Alice didn’t have a fever, now. She looked just as healthy as the first time he had seen her. Her skin was smooth, silky, and golden; not pink and flushed.

Well, now her cheeks were pink. She was blushing. “I’m sorry!” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I know you’re tired…”

He let go of her hand and then leaned across the bed and over
her
body. He was very aware; ready to pounce at the slightest sign of her turning on him, and put his hand over her forehead. “You don’t have a fever,” he said aloud with the discovery. He lowered his eyebrows. “How is that possible?”

Alice’s hands gently pushed him out of her personal space. “Charlotte,” Alice crossed her legs, Indian style and then rested her chin on her hands and her elbows on her knees. “Her experiment worked! I feel really, really well.”

He blinked. That couldn’t have been true—it was too good to be true. “Charlotte was in here?” was all he could say.

“Don’t be angry at her!” Alice quickly chided, looking like she judged his expression as worried or angry. “She took a risk, but look at me!” She opened her arms and gestured at herself, at how healthy she looked. “I could climb a mountain right now. I haven’t felt so good in years! No more nectar
sickness.”

He shook his head dubiously. Well, at least she was no longer crying. But there was no way that Charlotte could have found the cure to nectar
sickness. She was still a baby, for god sakes. Ashcroft was over a millennia old and didn’t think there was a cure in sight—and he’d have known. Ashcroft did nothing if not kept a close ear to the ground to all the wizarding factions.

“Really! And I can’t harvest anymore, anyway.
My Q
ueen would simply have me killed if I went back.”

“Most nymphs would prefer that option,” he admitted.

She shrugged. “Well, I’ve always been sort of odd,” she admitted. “I’m only a half-blood honey
nymph.”

He squinted and snorted, sure she had to be lying. “There’s no such thing. They wouldn’t allow a half-blood into the hive. Your mother would have been killed long before you were born, just to prevent the birth, and then they’d have hunted down and killed the father.” Nymphs weren’t known to be open
minded. They kept their race pure. It was easy enough; they would only breed with the elusive male nymphs, who took several brides at once. Immortals could only breed with other immortals, anyway.

But then again—there was a reason he’d been so shocked that she was a honey
nymph. She was different. She was blonde. She had cute little imperfections, even a few freckles on her nose.

And then Alice grew animated, quickly going into the story of her life—how her father was her mother’s greatest secret—not even Alice knew who it was. She talked about her growing up in the kitchens, scorned, and rejected… Although she didn’t seem too sad about it. She didn’t even wince during the story; she spoke about her life and her mother’s recent execution almost as if it happened to someone else’s family. But she looked like she couldn’t have been happier than she was at this very moment, curling her fingers around his as she spoke even about her own imprisonment.

He found he didn’t know what to say to her story. It was so sad to him, and he had heard some real horrible stories in his lifetime. 

“What?” he found himself asking, looking hard at her.

“Do you like puns?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, confused. “Why?”

She smirked. “Well, because I was about to say, ‘biting you was a bit below
the-belt’, but then you look sort of not in the mood for humor…” She jumped up enthusiastically to her knees. “Moriarty, I’m better! Aren’t you happy! Be happy with me!” She bounced cutely on the mattress.

“Forgive me for seeming leery,” Moriarty finally said, trying his best not to smile. He did want to believe she was better. She just seemed much more child
like, much more innocent…

Much more sexy in every way.

“But I don’t want to get my hopes up if it turns out I’m dreaming, or in case you’re planning to kill me in my sleep.”

“I’m really not a killer,” she assured. “I’ve never killed even a spider before. Not on purpose, anyway. I just pick them up and put them outside.” She looked around the room and said thoughtfully. “I am famished. How ab
out you take me to the kitchens?
I’ll make us up a huge supper, and then we can talk about what we’re going to
do
with me now that I’m all better.”

There was something about the last part of that sentence—the cute way she said it— that made him grab her face with both hands and kiss her. He almost couldn’t control himself. He wanted to be in her. He wanted to push her to orgasm, he wanted to come inside of her, and then hold her, and then do it all over again.

He put his hand to her soft breast, but he felt her body tug away from under his. When he stopped kissing her, he saw that she was blushing profusely. She gave an embarrassed chuckle and averted her eyes like a shy schoolgirl.

It was in that moment that he was absolutely sure that she was cured. “Moriarty—I might be a nymph, but… But I’ve never had a boyfriend before. So, I… I don’t…”

And as she said that, playing with a button on her pajamas nervously, he realized that he didn’t want to be her boyfriend. He wanted much more than that. He made a cooing, shushing sound. “It’s alright. Just let me…” He kissed her much more tenderly, much more deeply. He never wanted this to end.

And that terrified the ever living hell out of him! What was he thinking of? He was Moriarty Miles—a man who’d pleasured thousands of women and never spent more than one night with any of them, and now he wanted to just hold up with one girl?

He needed time to think. Time to be alone, not taunted by the sexy little vixen. He needed to talk to Ashcroft—surely that man could talk him back to his senses. He would tell him that he had to let the nymph free; that a long
term relationship was impossible for a man like Moriarty to hold. That he needed to cut ties. Yes—that’s what he needed to hear!

“I’ve got to go to work, Darling,” he said, breaking the kiss so short that he felt like he was reeling and still panting from it. She let out a little moan, but then her eyes snapped open wide when his words came through to her. She had the expression of someone who’d just been slapped. “I do,” he assured. “I’ll be back, however. I promise. If I’m long, I’ll send up some food for you. We’ll talk later. Just don’t leave, or move, or anything like that. Just… Just catch up on your rest.”

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, biting her lip as she watched him get up and start tugging his boots on.

He sighed and turned over to her and put a hand on her cheek. “No, Darling. Not at all.” Abruptly, he turned and continued to tug on his boots.

“Well, something’s changed in the last moment, and I—”

He retied his tie and rebuttoned his vest. “It’s not you. Let me just… clear my mind,” he begged, although he couldn’t keep from his frustration from straining his voice. He was frustrated. Alice, the cute little devil, was out to ruin everything he’d ever known.

“You can’t clear your mind with me around?” she fretted, her voice small.

“No,” he admitted. “I need to be by myself, Alice. Just… Just I need a moment.”

She sat on the backs of her feet and watched. “Oh. I understand…”

“Thank you,” he said, and then kissed her forehead quickly. With that, he walked from the room and locked the door behind him.

*
*
*

Ashcroft slammed the book he was holding shut. “I knew it! I absolutely knew it! Charlotte started that goddamned fire on purpose.”

Moriarty’s expression was blank with confusion. “I didn’t say that. I just said that Charlotte did something to Alice that made her… better. She seems absolutely perfectly fine now. She’s not in any pain, she has strength, and she’s slept the afternoon away! We both did.”

Ashcroft locked his teeth, looking like he was grinding them. “She made that fire to distract us! The servants said that she was the last one seen going towards the barn, but it
didn’t make sense to m
e until just now! I specifically told her not to go into your bedroom and try out her spells on Alice. She can’t even know enough to—” Ashcroft’s eyes suddenly glazed over with thought. “You mean it worked?”

“Precisely, Master,” Moriarty sighed. “And now I’m real
ly in a predicament, because
—” he stopped midsentence when he saw a sickly expression come upon Ashcroft’s face. The man was paling in front of him. “What? What’s wrong with her spell working?”

“She
ha
s never
attempted
a new spell before,” Ashcroft replied quietly. He shook his head, his eyebrow lowering with confusion. “That would be far,
far
beyond
her level. Don’t you see? She shouldn’t be working up spells for at least another century! If not much longer!”

No, Moriarty didn’t ‘see’. He didn’t understand at all. “Isn’t that… well… good?” he finally asked.

“No. It doesn’t make
sense
, Moriarty.” He shook his head. “I don’t lik
e this at all…” He began to appear like
he was about to get lost into a long train of thought.

Moriarty stepped forward. “Wait, wait—what about my problem?”

Ashcroft raised an eyebrow, as if blaming him for something. “What problem would that be?”