"I–I–I–" My face burned. “I heard you crying, I thought you were in trouble.”
He peered around the tree trunk, his gaze shifting around me. "Is my father with you?"
He sounded terrified. I stared at him, confused. This wasn’t the reaction I’d expected, given I’d just saved his life.
"What? No. Simon, I–"
"Ada–"
Something rushed from the bushes behind Simon and grabbed me, pushing me to the ground. As my chest bounced on the dirt, the wind flew from my lungs, and I gasped for air. My limbs went slack, and whatever-it-was placed a knee in my back and pulled my torso up, bending my back in an awkward curve. I felt the cool blade of a knife pressed against my throat.
"She's going to tell, Simon." A voice hissed in my ear. "We have to silence her."
"Don't do that, Helmut," said Simon, his eyes wide. "She won't tell."
"She will. She's a friend of Rebekah. And you know what Rebekah is like - she will tell her father, and he'll have us both up before the council, and that scharfrichter will find another use for his tongs–"
I gulped as I realised I recognised the voice of my assailant. Helmut son of Ortrum? What was he doing here? He must've been the figure I saw run into the bushes. But he and Simon are friends, why would he be attacking him?
"You won't get away with this," I hissed at Helmut. "I saw you. You were hurting Simon. I'll tell everyone–"
"Ada.” Tears streamed down Simon's cheeks. "You can't tell anyone, please. Helmut hasn't hurting me. He was–"
"Be silent!" Helmut screamed. The knife bit deeper into my skin. I clamped my mouth shut. Please Goddess, save me. "You can't say any more, Simon."
But if Helmut wasn't attacking Simon, what was he doing …
Suddenly, it all made sense. The look on Simon's face told me everything I needed to know. They were not fighting. They were lovers. And I had interrupted their tryst. Even with that blade pressed against my throat, I felt my cheeks burn with my own foolishness.
"Simon, please. I'm sorry. I didn't know–"
“I said, be silent!”
"Helmut, just put down the knife," Simon inched away from behind the tree. He held one hand out in front of him, trembling. He now only had one hand to keep up his breeches, and they sagged down on one side, revealing a pasty white thigh grazed with red welts. Fingernail marks. "Ada isn't going to tell anyone."
"I won't. I promise." It was becoming difficult to breathe.
"This knife will be inside your pretty belly if you so much as breathe a word of it. And that includes Rebekah." Helmut hissed.
"I-I won't. I don't even really like Rebekah."
Helmut spat on the back of my hair. The insult stung, and my cheeks burned harder at the humiliation. To my relief, he pulled the knife away and threw me on the ground.
I landed hard on my side, skinning the palms of my hands as I flung them out to catch my fall. Sitting up, I rubbed my dry throat and wiped the dirt from around my mouth. Simon fled into Helmut's arms, burying his face in his lover's shoulder. Helmut stared down at me with a look of utter disdain. He didn't bother to help me up.
"What is she doing here, anyway?" Helmut stared from me to Simon. "Are you boning her behind my back?"
Simon blushed. "Why would you think such a thing? I'm sure Ada was just visiting–"
Helmut picked up my basket from where it had fallen and upturned it, scattering the meagre foods across the dirt. The pitcher broke, splashing the sticky mead over his boots. "She was bringing you food," Helmut said, his voice dripping with scorn. "Bread, mead, berries – the fruits of lovers." he sneered. "Ada thinks she has a chance with you, Simon. What's wrong, Ada? Tired of being the ugly stepsister of Princess Rebekah? Need a little action from Simon here to get your cunny all wet?"
My face felt as if it were on fire. I blinked, trying to push back the tears threatening to spill over. "Simon," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"Just leave, Ada," he said. "Please leave."
Helmut threw my empty basket at me. I grabbed it, turned on my heel and ran back across the field. Behind me, I heard Helmut laughing. He was laughing at me.
My face burned as I ran down the road and around the outside of the village. I wanted to run right over the edge of the world and on into oblivion. I interrupted Simon and Helmut right when … right as they … I couldn't bear to think of it. Of course they were angry with me. The church had denounced homosexuality as evil and immoral. If any of the village elders found out, they would both be driven away, or have their members cut off. I’m sure Ulrich of Donau-Ries would relish the job.
Tears of shame burned at the corners of my eyes, but I wiped them away angrily with the back of my hand. I was so stupid! How will I ever find a man to lay with me in only five days? I just wanted to get away from the village and forget this horrible day ever happened. I ran on past the section of the village wall that was crumbling down, and right past the old village well that had been dried up for years. I was so busy running that I wasn't looking where I was going, and I crashed straight into someone running the other way.
"Ooof!" I fell backward into the mud, cracking my tailbone against a rock. Pain shot up my back, and my vision blurred as red welts danced before my eyes. The pain and humiliation seemed too much. I burst into tears.
A hand reached down and helped me to my feet.
"I'm sorry," I wheezed at the stranger, wincing as I straightened my back. The tears had blurred my vision, and I couldn’t even see who it was that I had ploughed into. I wiped my eyes on the back of my sleeve, squinting to recognise the figure. "I seem to be making a fool of myself today–"
My breath caught in my throat as my vision cleared and I looked up at the face of my rescuer. It was Ulrich of Donau-Ries.
"H-hello," I stammered. "Brother Ulrich … I … I …"
He wasn’t wearing his mask. His face was exactly as I remembered it, hard and cold and utterly handsome. He had not shaved in several days, and the dark hair covered his jawline, making him appear even more wild and dangerous. The scar down his cheek glinted in the daylight. Ulrich held my hand in an iron grip. “Ada. I’ve been looking for you. The Widow Hildegard said she’d seen you walking toward Chlothar's cottage, but I hadn’t expected to meet you in quite these circumstance.” He snorted, in what might have been an approximation of a laugh, and wiped a smear of mud from his cheek.
“I’m sorry, Scharfrichter. I must go,” I tried to push past him, but he grabbed my shoulders and held me in place.
“We must talk," he said.
I shook my head. "We have nothing to talk about," I said. "Please let me go."
"You are crying." Ulrich reached up his hand toward my cheek. If I hadn’t known better, I would think the gesture was tender.
"Please," I sobbed. "Stay away from me."
"Ada–" His fingers grazed my cheek, and a jolt of fire shot through my body. I leapt away from him.
"You never said you were a witch hunter," I whispered.
Ulrich’s eyes bore into mine. "It didn't … come up. Ada, please, I must speak with you–"
"Go back to your torture chamber, Brother Ulrich. Go back to tearing skin and burning women. There is nothing you could say that I want to hear." I tore my gaze away from him, spun on my heel, and began limping back down the road. He called my name, but I didn't turn around. I couldn't let the witch hunter see me weeping.
Why? Why did he have to be so evil? Why did he have to be a man who'd burned hundreds of innocent women at the stake? Why couldn't he have been a witch himself, or a simple farmer, a man with no need for bloodshed and witch-hunts ,,,
All I wanted to do was fall into those powerful arms and feel the world melt away again. All I wanted was to be wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, to feel that powerful body moving as he ploughed into me. I wanted to wake each morning to see his figure sleeping beside me, to be the one to polish his armour every day, to feel his child growing in my belly …
Wait, why
was I thinking about Ulrich in such a way? Why did I imagine a life with him, a future? It's not as if I'd fallen in love with him. That’s impossible. Rebekah sleeps with men all the time and she doesn't care about any of them. We'd had one encounter, and it had been amazing. Or maybe it was mediocre – I guess I wouldn't know – but that doesn't mean I needed him again, or even that I care about him. Does it?
Does it?
Angrily, I wiped the tears from my cheeks, trying to force the images from my mind. It didn't matter if I wanted him or not. Ulrich was a witch hunter. Which meant I had to stay as far from him as possible.
Ulrich
Dammit. That didn’t go well.
I kicked the side of the crumbling old well in frustration. I’d only meant to warn Ada that she was being accused of witchcraft, and to tell her my plan to help her and her aunts escape. I thought that if I gave her some advice on what will happen, she might fare better in her trial. But just seeing her there, looking all upset and flustered and completely and utterly fuckable, my mind immediately went back to that day in the grove, and I couldn’t seem to formulate the words. I’d grabbed her, and it was as if lightning had struck my hands. She was so beautiful, so beguiling, those emerald eyes boring into mine … I wanted nothing more than to scoop her into my arms, take her back to my dungeon, and let my darkest desires take hold ...
And all of that must’ve shown in my eyes, because she took one look at me and ran. And now not only had I got myself all hot and flustered, it looked as if I had scared her away for good.
You did warn her, back in the grove. You said that you would be her doom, for to be with a witch hunter is dooming oneself to living apart. And now you were here in her village, bearing your sword and your black cloak. No wonder she’s afraid of you.
As I walked back toward the hall, my cock strained against my trousers. I was grateful for the long cloak of my office. No one in the village could see the bulge that Ada had encouraged.
My father’s voice drummed against my head. If she’s accused of being a witch, then she is a witch. Innocent, pious women don’t get mixed up with demons, and they certainly don’t have relations with a witch hunter. She must die, and it is your job to dispatch her … on and on he droned, as he always did when I felt weak and vulnerable.
It was all nonsense. Everything he’d ever said to me was a lie. There was no such thing as witches. It was all superstition and heresy. It was people like Heloise searching for meaning behind the tragedies of their lives.
My mind still on Ada and our entanglement in the grove, I returned to the dungeon, the only place where I could think. There, I had control. I was the master. No women could get inside my head.
Only this one could.
I stood at the door of the dungeon, fighting to regain control of my body, trying to remember the other women I’d had in my devices, the women I had fucked and saved and forgotten. But in every corner I saw Ada’s luscious, curvy body stretched out, trussed up, bound and gagged, her eyes gazing up at me in wilful submission-
If Ada gets accused of witchcraft, you’ll have her here, in the dungeon. You’ll be able to strap her to the rack, and-
A moan escaped my lips.
Glancing around to make sure no one was there, I reached down with one hand into my breaches and drew out my cock. It leapt against my fingers, hard as rock. I wrapped my fingers around it, and began to pump at myself as I surrendered to my fantasy. I needed release. I needed to get Ada out of my head so I could think straight once more.
As I slid my hand down the shaft, I stared down at the rack, imagining Ada’s naked body stretched out there, her hands and feet tied to the wooden table, a gag in her mouth. Her wide eyes staring up at me, pliant and submissive, as I ran my hands down her naked body, over her round, pert breasts, and down her voluptuous thighs. I imagined pulling apart her lips, touching the sweetness within once more, feeling her juices run down my fingers as she writhed in ecstasy below me …
I pumped faster, my mind constructing Ada’s body in excruciating detail. She felt so real to me that I could almost touch her soft skin, smell her unique, sweet scent, feel the wisps of her blonde hair fall across my face. She was right in front of me, kissing my lips with a hunger that mirrored my own.
I imagined Ada kneeling on the ground, her hands tied behind her, her eyes staring up at me, begging me for more. I could practically feel the warmth of Ada’s mouth around my shaft as I plumped myself into her mouth, feeling her tongue dance over me as she expertly brought me closer ...
I moaned again as I felt the pressure build inside of me. My cock strained against my hand, the shaft growing stiff before exploding with sensation, sending a wave of hot relief through my limbs. I closed my eyes as I came, bright white stars flashing across my vision. Ada ...
After I was finished, I washed my hands in the bowl Tjard set aside for me in the corner, dried them on my cloak, and used one of the rags to wipe down the mess from the rack. I moved slowly, my body feeling heavy with relief. I couldn’t believe I’d done that while thinking of Ada. I’d had many women over the years, most of whom enjoyed my peculiar tastes, but I’d never had one that got inside my head like Ada did.
I have to be careful, especially if Ada was the one who was going to be accused. I couldn’t allow myself to get attached. I was so close to my freedom. I was so close to escape from this life of butchery and lies, the life my father had chosen for me. All I had to do was finish this one last assignment, escape without being caught, and then I could fade into the forest and never return. But it wouldn’t work if I let myself be distracted by a pretty girl I barely knew.
But Ada, with her delicious curves and wide, innocent eyes, was going to make this the most difficult assignment yet.
Ada
Time was running out.
My failed encounter with Simon and Helmut had cost me a day, and meeting Ulrich had left me so shaken I needed some time to collect myself. But time was one thing I didn't have. I went back to the cabin and my aunts - Aunt Aubrey worried, Aunt Bernadine furious - ate barely a spoonful of broth, and went to bed to toss and turn with worry all night, tears of frustration and fear staining my face.
The next morning I set off again a-wooing. I walked a little way into the forest and sat by one of the mountain streams that ran past our village, a small offshoot of the stream that ran through the grove. Winter was fast approaching now, and ice had begun to form around the edges of the water. I splashed frigid water on my face, washing away the tears and the heat in my cheeks. I slumped against the trunk of an oak, unlaced my boots and dangled my feet in the water, wondering if I took off all my clothes and dived in, would it wash the flush from my body when I thought of Ulrich?
As much as I tried to force myself not to think of him, my mind couldn't help but fixate on our time in the grove, every detail, every touch, every sensation seemed etched into my vision. The way Ulrich lay me down in the water, the way my body curled around him, the feeling of his tongue probing deep inside me …
I plunged my feet deeper into the icy water. Forget it, Ada.
But I could not.
Why had he done it? He was a witch hunter, a man charged with a holy duty to destroy all witches. He was meant to be chaste, to obey the commandments of the Church in every aspect of his life, and he certainly wasn’t meant to copulate with a witch. But he'd come to me freely, of that I am certain. The spell had attracted him to the clearing, but it hadn't forced him to lay with me. Magic doesn't work like that. I cast the spell to call a man to me, and a man came, but magic can't make him do anything against his will.
So did that mean … surely it meant he found me attractive, that he'd wanted to be with me, that he'd enjoyed what he did to me? In the eyes of the Church, that was a terrible sin. Is that why Ulrich hadn’t turned me in, because his actions bring him shame?
Aunt Aubrey had said the same thing, that if Ulrich came forward and declared me a witch, it would throw his own indiscretion into question.
Perhaps he wasn't out to burn me at the stake after all. Perhaps I was hasty to run from him yesterday, and he only wanted my assurance that I wouldn't give away our secret.
No, no. Even if that were true, I couldn't take the chance. I remembered the coldness in the witch hunter’s eyes. That was a man who’d killed hundreds of women in the most cruel and heartless ways. He was not a man who felt any remorse for his actions. More likely, he planned to kill me anyway – that way he'd never risk his secret being revealed. Perhaps he'd simply wait until another villager accused me of witchcraft, or maybe he'd plant the idea into Rebekah's head as he was ploughing her …
"Urgh." I shook that image out of my head.
Maybe I could tell the elders the truth? The thought occurred to me that I could speak out against Ulrich first, reveal that he had lain with me, before he had the chance to bring any case against me? I could say that he found me by the grove and forced me, and no one could claim otherwise. But that path carried far more risk, for even if I did speak out against him, who would believe a woman over a witch hunter? Besides, I didn't want him to be punished. I wanted …
My head swum with all these conflicting thoughts. I was no closer to figuring out a solution. What had Ulrich said to me in the grove? "I have come for you, but it could be your doom." How true those words were turning out to be.
I glanced up. The sky was beginning to darken. I had tarried too long. Another day was passing and I was no closer to finding a man. I couldn't sit here and wallow about Ulrich. I had to forget about him, and focus on what had to be done. I had less than three days to find a man. If I wanted to keep my powers, I'd have to redouble my efforts.
How did my aunts do this for so many years? And right under my nose, too?
I walked back through the forest and crossed the fields toward the village. Candles flickered outside the walls. I saw several bodies gathered at the edge of the forest, and the sounds of corks being popped and a tune played on a whistle. Rebekah's tinkling laugh carried over the crisp night breeze.
Witch Hunter: dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 1) Page 8