Black Moon Draw

My god, he smells like. . .night. And sweet clover. And horses. And . . . man. A combination I've never experienced before in the real world. It's strong and makes my mouth water, a tantalizing combination of his skin, dark musk, and a drop of sweetness that gives me the sudden urge to nibble on him. It reminds me a little of food, but I can't place what.

He takes my arm.

"You are newly come from the edge of the world," he says.

I look up and cringe. No matter how good he smells and how ripped his body is, he's got the head of a freaking monster.

Figures I find a man who looks like this and isn't human. If there's one thing LF has got spot on, it's my horrible luck with men.

"How do you know that?" I ask.

"'Tis obvious by your hysterics. You are behaving most unwitchly."

Pretty sure that's not a real word, LF. "A man with a monster head is making fun of me," I mumble.

He takes my forearm. His hand is huge, warm, and rough, and his touch sends a spark of electricity through me. For a fictional character, he's feeling like the real thing.

With his other hand, he lifts the axe.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I say, yanking at my arm. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Showing you that you are a witch," he replies calmly. "I will chop off your hand and you will watch it grown back. Then you will believe me."

"Chop off my hand?" I echo in astonishment. "No!"

"You wish me to chop off another part of your body?"

"What? No! What the hell is wrong with you?" I demand. "You can't go around chopping off pieces of me!"

"If you are a witch, which I suspect you are, it will grow back. If you are not, it will not," he reasons.

"But if it's not, I won't have a hand."

"You have another. Many men have survived with one hand before you."

My mouth drops open. "Fine. I'm a witch. You caught me. Now let's not chop me up!"

The hand around my forearm leaves and he wraps it around my neck.

I freeze, uncertain if being strangled is better than having parts of my body violently removed.

"First, witch, learn this. You will never, ever, ever lie to me." The sharpness of his tone makes me jump. He's gone tense, the veins of his forearms and neck standing out in a sign of visible agitation while the boar's nostrils flare. "I know when a man lies or deceives. Do you understand me?"

I nod quickly.