NOVPUB
Chapter 47: Marked By A Witch... Again
The interior was well-lit and organized, rows of outfits neatly folded or hung on wooden racks.
A few other customers browsed the shelves, and a shopkeeper, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes, glanced up from behind the counter.
"Welcome," she said with a nod. "Let me know if you need anything."
Zayn gave a brief nod in return before heading toward the section with light armor and traveling clothes.
The Witch Princess followed, casually running her fingers over the fabrics. "Do you need help picking something out?"
"I can handle it," Zayn said.
She hummed, but didn’t press further.
Zayn flipped through a few jackets and tunics, testing the material between his fingers.
He wasn’t going to cheap out on quality.
If he was going to be dragged into some kind of trial for witches, he needed gear that wouldn’t fall apart after one fight.
He eventually settled on a dark, fitted tunic with reinforced leather padding, a matching cloak, and a pair of sturdy boots.
Nothing flashy, but durable.
As he examined the cloak, the Witch Princess suddenly spoke up.
"You should try a deep red or black," she suggested.
Zayn glanced at her. "Why?"
"It would match your eyes," she said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
For some stupid reason, his brain short-circuited for a moment.
Zayn cleared his throat, looking back at the cloak in his hands. "...I’ll think about it."
She smiled, but didn’t say anything else.
After gathering everything he needed, Zayn headed to the counter and paid with the pouch of silver Tobias had given him.
The shopkeeper wrapped everything neatly before handing it over.
As they stepped outside, the Witch Princess stretched her arms over her head, letting out a content sigh. "That was fun."
"Speak for yourself," Zayn muttered, adjusting his grip on the bag.
She giggled. "Oh, don’t be so grumpy. Shopping is an experience."
"More like a chore," he shot back.
The walk back to the inn was relatively quiet, save for the occasional chatter from the marketplace and the rhythmic tapping of Zayn’s boots against the cobblestone road.
The sun had begun its slow descent, casting a warm orange glow over the town.
Zayn adjusted the bag over his shoulder, feeling its weight settle against his back.
The Witch Princess walked beside him, her hands clasped behind her, swaying slightly as she moved. She glanced up at him with an expectant look.
"I want to mark you again," she said, her tone deceptively casual.
Zayn stopped mid-step, his lips pressing into a thin line. Of course she did.
"No."
She blinked at him. "No?"
"That’s right. No," he repeated, continuing his pace toward the inn.
She hurried to match his stride, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. "But you know how important it is."
"Oh, I know," Zayn muttered. "I also remember the last time you decided to brand me without asking first. Not happening again."
The Witch Princess pouted, puffing her cheeks like a child denied a treat. "I didn’t have a choice back then!"
"Uh-huh," Zayn said flatly.
She groaned, stepping in front of him to block his path. "Come on, at least let me explain! This time it won’t be a forceful brand — it’ll be something more refined, more... beneficial to you."
He crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Yeah? And what’s stopping you from tricking me again?"
She gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. "Zayn! Do you really think so little of me?"
"Yes," he said immediately.
The Witch Princess pouted even harder, but he simply walked around her, heading straight for the inn.
When they finally arrived, she let out a sigh, looking up at the building.
A crease formed between her brows as she studied its plain wooden structure, the slightly crooked sign swaying gently with the wind.
"This is where you stay?" she asked, blinking.
"Yeah," Zayn said, stepping up to the door.
She wrinkled her nose. "It’s kind of... ugly."
Zayn’s expression went blank.
"Not everyone is a princess and lives in a mansion," he said in a deadpan tone.
"It’s a castle, actually," she corrected, a smug grin creeping onto her lips.
Zayn sighed, running a hand down his face. "Of course it is."
He pushed open the door, stepping inside without another word. The inn was quiet, all of his party members would still be on the mission or heading back by now.
He set his bag down on the dining table, stretching his shoulders as he exhaled.
The Witch Princess followed him in, standing a few feet away, arms crossed.
"So," she said, "about the mark — "
Zayn groaned, rubbing his temples. "You’re not letting this go, are you?" 𝘯𝘰𝑣𝘱𝑢𝘣.𝑐𝑜𝑚
"Nope!" she said cheerfully.
He glanced at her, exasperated, and then at the wooden beams above, as if asking the heavens for patience.
After a moment, he exhaled sharply.
"Fine," he said, rolling his shoulders. "But if you try any funny business, I swear — "
"Great!" she cut him off, stepping forward with a pleased smile.
Zayn barely had time to process before she suddenly cupped his face, tilting his chin up.
His breath hitched as she leaned in, pressing her lips firmly against his.
His eyes widened.
’What the hell?!’
Before he could even react, a strange sensation spread through him — a tingling warmth, like fire dancing along his skin.
He felt something engraving onto his neck, burning to life with an intensity that made his breath hitch.
His knees buckled slightly, and in the next second, they both tumbled to the ground.
Zayn barely had time to curse before he realized she was on top of him, straddling his waist, her lips still moving against his with a slow, deliberate pressure.
His mind short-circuited for a moment.
She pulled back slightly, her golden eyes half-lidded, her breath warm against his skin.
It sent a chill down his spine.
"Voila," she whispered with a playful smirk, tracing a finger along his jaw. "A much more pleasurable way, don’t you think?"
