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“It’s never truly the darkness we fear, Ladybug, nor the things that lurk there. It is only the unknown. Once the darkness is known, it can’t hurt you. There’s nothing there to fear.”
“You do me a great honor,” he murmured, deep and pitch black, a hot caress against her neck. “Such a fair, delicate mate . . . and I swear it on my life, I will never bring you harm.”
“No other will mate you while I draw breath, little bug. I swear it to you.”
She’d asked, at some point the previous night, if araneaen heats always lasted this long, if he would ever find relief . . . only to be shocked by his answer. “It’s never been like this before,” he’d admitted darkly, remaking a portion of the great web to place her in a new angle. “They come on twice a year, but without a receptive female the urge quickly passes.”
“What do we say, little bug?” She twisted, needing his venom, the smell of his heat still fogging her mind. It would be over soon, she was certain, and then she would wait, wait for the smell of his arousal to reach her when the seasons changed again, and then she would not make him wait again. “Please.”
“Real magic requires sacrifice, every true witch knows this. If you’ve a spell that calls for rendered fat that must be human, you must carve it from your own belly. The sacrifice of another will not work in your stead, every true witch knows this. I would not compromise all I’ve been taught for the sake of their false smiles, so they cast me out.”
“I’m not going to let them stop me from practicing. I don’t miss them. A witch does not need a coven, and I am a witch.”
It didn’t matter if they went back to their separate existences after this night, for he would be just upstairs, a silent, comforting presence as he had been all this time. Alone, together.
“Prepare for your feast night, little bug.” Once the last of the water had drained from the tub, Anzan stood over her with the fluffiest towel from the linen closet, staring down at her bare form. “Just as beautiful as the nights you sing your strange songs to the moon.”
Ladybug breathed around tears as she stared up at the moon, full and luminous and ancient; stared up at the same moon that countless women like her had stared up at since time immemorial. The Aunts would be proud, she decided.
