This is a snippet from my upcoming book, in which Sabine, the notoriously Bad Witch, decides to take the assassin who tried to claim her life, and possess her always.
Orla looks at Sabine, fierce independence flashing through her veins, lighting her eyes with determination. “I will not be bound, witch. I will fight a hundred hordes before I allow myself to become one of your pets.”
“You fear not me, but connection to me,” Sabine says calmly. “But we have always been connected, and always will be. Fate has determined that.”
“Then you do not need to make me yours,” Orla says, neatly circling around the witch’s logic. “I will be mine and you will be yours and we will be ours and that will have to be enough.”
“You will be mine,” Sabine declares. “I have not offered you a choice in that.”
“Nonsense,” Orla replies. “You cannot claim me. You…”
Her words are cut off as Sabine uses her powerful magic to make the world tumble, or perhaps it is just Orla that tumbles, for she finds herself face down against the coverlet, her hips raised over a serpent’s ridge which has risen from the ether, a glittering familiar taking momentary wooden form. She is unable to move, shackled by Sabine’s sprites which wind themselves around her ankles and wrists, leaving her entirely at the witch’s mercy, her naked body bared, spread and held for Sabine’s pleasure.