His Captive Mate
Maggie turns pale, and stares at Celine.
“Okay,” She still sounded Scottish, but it was much more restrained. “May I hold my hand to your head?” She looked at Celine intently, waiting for permission. Celine lets her gifting focus on Maggie, and she feels worry and shame, which seems to be more about the fact that a witch had done something quite so cruel. Celine nods and sits still. Maggie places her palm across Celine’s forehead and closes her eyes. A moment or two passes, then she shouts, “Fucking Ava!”
She let her hand drop; she was shaking all over. She stands and walks to the liquor cabinet and gets herself a glass and a bottle of whiskey before coming back to the group. She pours herse
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