The Bound Witch (The Osseous Chronicles, #3)

by Ivy Asher

I instruct my magic to relocate my little death ducklings

He tastes like the antidote to a poison that’s been threatening my very soul.

Well, hello, washboard abs, allow me to introduce you to my very eager clit.

It’s time to open my eyes and see the truth, regardless of how intimidating, final, or scary it might be. I’m a bound witch, and maybe, just maybe, that’s a good thing.

“I love you in the way that grows as we grow together. The kind of love worth fighting for, that has me waking up every day grateful and willing to do whatever it takes. I know what you did for Elon, because it’s the same thing you did for me. You’re the light in the darkness. The stars that guide you home when you’re lost. You carry the broken from battle and lift the drowning from the clawing cold that’s trying to claim them. You slay the demons.”

This is the be-all and end-all kind of love that can only be nurtured with patience and understanding. This is the good shit that takes work and time, but when you truly give it everything you have, it’s the epic kind of love that will sustain a soul even in the darkest of times.

“I just might love you more than your coffee maker,” I announce straight-faced. “It’s probably too early to tell. We are new to this whole love thing, but the potential is definitely there.”

“You cannot fuck me into a jelly-like state and then make me talk about your mom. I’m pretty sure there are rules against that,” I whine.

Get a hold of yourself, woman. We’ve got serious shit breathing down our necks. Now is not the time to daydream about nibbling on some beefy ass cheeks.

“Because I had met someone who made me want to run to them instead of away...and then I lost her. I was fed up with backing down and fleeing. It was time to make them pay.”

He was going to go to war for me. I’d died and he was going to burn it all to the ground, fed up and ready to dish out some much deserved retribution. Well, if that isn’t the most romantic damn thing.

lovesick smile stretches across his face. “You are the most beautiful soul I have ever seen,” he tells me, his tone serious and reverent. A current of tenderness flashes through me, and a fluttering sensation starts low in my stomach. “I just want to eat you,” he goes on, the words slightly slurred. Oh boy. “Especially that nose, no, definitely those lips. Your hair drives me beyond the brink of madness. I’ve never wanted to eat someone just because they’re so cute. Not just cute though, like cute in a sexy as fuck kind of way,” he announces on a titillating growl that sneaks into my body and settles warmly between my thighs. “Can I eat you?” he asks on an adorable pout, and I cover my mouth with my hand to try and trap in the laughter there. “I mean, not like that,” he adds, wagging his eyebrows. It clearly takes way more effort than it should, and he concentrates hard on the movement. “I wouldn’t actually eat your gorgeous face, but I would like to dine on that pussy. Table for one,” he announces, lifting a hand like he’s calling for a waiter. “Ooookaaayyy,” I exclaim

He turns to his friend. “Isn’t she just the most astonishing thing you’ve ever seen?” he asks Marx, and I chuckle at the weird high pitch to his voice. It has this goofy innocence to it that makes me want to say awww, but also makes me want to record it so I can make fun of him about this later. “And it’s not just outside, my frrriennnn,” Rogan implores, momentarily getting distracted by his finger for some reason. “No, sir, she’s stunning on the outside and on the inside. Bro, you should see her body!” he whisper yells, and I can’t help the twitter that escapes me. “What?” Rogan suddenly demands. “How dare you,” he accuses, as though Marx were the one to suggest checking out my body and not him. “I love you, Marx, but I will kick your ass. I already have to fuck up that wolf, Saaaxooon,” he announces, mocking the name. “Fucker kissed her twice, bro, twice,” he growls as he holds up three fingers. “Never wanted to kill someone so badly in my life, and my parents renounced me! That’s fucking legit, man!”

I gasp. “Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much,” I exclaim and then open my arms and sprint across the massive space. Rogan looks amused, and Elon looks momentarily confused before he opens his arms, clearly expecting my hug trajectory to take me to him. I run right past him, wrapping the espresso maker up in a bear hug so tight that it communicates how much I’ve missed her and that I never want to leave her again. “It’s you and me forever, you got that?” I promise her, closing my eyes to revel in the feel of her cool metal outside and the magic all her parts create inside. “What the hell just happened?” Elon mumbles. “Did I seriously just get pushed aside for the coffee maker?” “Don’t take it personally,” Rogan reassures him. “I barely make the cut. Pretty sure she was open to forgiving me because I read the instruction manual and know all its tricks.” “You’re not wrong,” I confirm, giving him my best puppy dog eyes. “Please make her scream my name,” I beg,

Do not gulp, Lennox. There will be no audible gulping to the offer of two dicks, a vagina, four hands, and a whole lotta enslavement.

he takes the clothes I was wearing and walks over to the garbage, chucking them inside almost violently. I’m a little taken aback by the level of aggression he just showed those clothes, and I watch him with concern as he comes back to check the temperature of the water. “Were they talking shit to you or something?” I ask after a beat, too curious to let it go. I mean, I did almost get in a fight with a drawer knob earlier, who am I to judge a sweatshirt beat down?

“Of course I still love you, Lennox. You’re it for me. Good days or bad, sleep or no sleep, cuddle slut or pouting on the other end of the couch. It’s you and me forever.”

Rogan loves the ever-loving shit out of me, and don’t I just love the ever-loving shit out of him right back.