Claiming His Witch by Ellis Leigh

just maybe, he was thinking of me.
    I slid down the closed door and brought my knees to my chest. Focusing on reaching a place of peace and enlightenment, I slowed my breathing. The pain in my heart receded as I focused on nothing more than my next inhalation. Time rolled past without witness, allowing me my moment of calm and reflection. I opened myself to the love and guidance of the Goddess, to the energy of the element of air, Amber’s favored element. And while I had a stronger grip on water magick, air was the element of vision and voice. I needed to think, to pick my path. Needed to decide whether it was right to stay with my coven and fight for their acceptance or…something else. I needed to see a way to be rid of the hunter no matter my choice. So I breathed, and I called the air to me. And I was quiet.
    The inky darkness of my mind slowly opened, revealing lights and pictures from years past. Memories I’d not thought of for over a decade trickled in, bringing me back to my witchling years. The time before my powers truly developed, when I wanted to immerse myself in magick every day and my biggest dream was to master the elemental earth power like Sarah. My memories played through a random summer day, one when I’d snuck into the ritual room to spend time alone reading the coven grimoire. I’d done it often, sometimes dragging Scarlett and Amber with me.  
    But this memory played out with me alone, the heavy, leather-bound book resting in my lap as I read the spells, the rituals, the hand-written notes from witches recent and centuries past. I’d spend hours carefully flipping pages and devouring information. Yet in my memory, I wasn’t turning a page. I wasn’t mouthing words or chanting under my breath. I sat, stunned and still, my eyes scanning one particular page over and over again.
    “Oh, Zuri.” Sarah strolled into the remembered ritual room, and my younger self looked up at her with something like confusion on her face. “One of these days someone else is going to catch you and you’re really going to be in trouble.”
    “You’d never let me get into too much trouble.”
    Sarah laughed, coming to sit beside me. “Very true. There’ll never come a day that I won’t be there to save you or your sisters. I promise.” She pushed my dark hair behind my ear and gave me a watery smile. “You look so much like your mother.”
    “Her name is under these notes.” I held the book out to her. “Is that her handwriting?”
    Sarah seemed surprised by the question before focusing on the grimoire. “Yes, that’s her script. She always had much neater penmanship than I did.”
    Younger me traced the cursive words with a single finger, brow furrowed. “I’ve never seen her writing before. It looks a lot like mine.”
    Sarah smiled and pulled the book into her own lap. “Yes, it certainly does. We’ve all written notes and comments over the years, especially your mom. She had an obsession with researching obscure information and leaving notes in this book. Let’s see if we can find more from your mom.”
    As the two sat closer so they could share the grimoire, the memory faded and I returned to the present. My cheeks burned from the tears streaming down my face, and my breathing was harsh. She was dying. The woman who’d stepped in without complaint when our mother died in childbirth, clinging to Sarah’s hand and begging her to take care of us. And she did; Sarah had raised us as her own. She’d fought for us and protected us for over two decades.  
    For minutes that lasted long past the point of comfort, I sobbed, quieting the sounds with my knees pressed to my face. We had so little family; losing Sarah would be a huge blow to my sisters and me. Coven be damned, their loss of a friend and mentor would never compare to what the three of us were about to have ripped away.
    Without warning, a single solitary wolf howl sounded, breaking the silence of the night. A tingle raced down my spine as