The Witch's Storm - reading sample / læseprøve

Her voice made him jump and come to an abrupt halt. “Damn it, Merian,” he said, turning halfway around to look up at her. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. You’ll give me a heart attack.”

“I wasn’t going to touch you, I promise.”

He pulled a face and then walked slowly on while groaning. “I hate that you say that. Hate that you have to say that.”

Merian took his slow stride as an invitation to tag along, so she hurried down the stairs and soon caught up with him.

“You look flushed,” he said, shooting her a sideways glance.

“Well, you were walking really fast. It was hard to keep up,” she explained and glanced down at his hand hanging rather carelessly down his side under that broad leather cuff with the roughly stitchedon suede star. She wanted so badly to slip her own hand into his, their fingers intertwined. How she wanted to pull him into her and nuzzle the back of his neck and kiss those lips. She gasped at her own thoughts. It made Kord fold his arms across his chest.

“I wasn’t going to,” she mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“I know. It’s all just making me a little paranoid.”

They turned left and walked through a short tunnel that led through to the garden. The abundance of roses was a sorry sight, the flowers all starting to wither and die.

“Have you figured out what to do? I mean with the Niolans?”

Merian asked.

Kord shook his head. “We’re wildly disagreeing on everything. We’ll probably all just end up being squashed to death by that goddamn black veil before reaching a consensus.” Kord glanced at her quickly, before squaring his shoulders. “I’m sorry. This whole curse seems to have made me a raging pessimist.”

Merian forced a smile. Her fingers were itching to get a hold of Parmona. How she would love to slowly torture her to death for