Touch me tender, Break me wild: A Steamy Compilation
Shadows lengthened, twisting unnatural.
A shimmer by the hearth, air rippling like water. Then she was there—Elowen, not flesh but ghost, silver hair floating, eyes glowing faint. Tessa gasped, dropping a jar; it shattered, shards scattering. 'You,' Elowen whispered, voice echoing hollow, like from a cave. Her form drifted, ignoring me, fixed on Tessa. 'Not just herbs and shadows, child. Descendant of the first weaver—the witch who birthed the curse in blood and moon. Your line started the chains on wolves. And it can end them.'