Chapter 3: Games

Nathaniel’s heart pounded in his chest, the sound deafening in the tense silence of the room. His breathing was shallow, his mind racing, struggling to comprehend the situation he had found himself in. The Witch’s touch lingered on his skin, sending confusing jolts of heat through him, making it hard to focus on anything other than her wicked smile. His eyes darted between her and the pale, silent man in the corner—the one she called her companion. His presence was unnerving, his gaze cold and analytical, as if Nathaniel was some kind of experiment they were about to dissect.

The Witch stood in front of him again, her fingers lightly trailing down his chest. “You’re quite the catch, aren’t you?” she mused, her voice almost teasing. “It’s not every day someone comes stumbling into our little haven. It’s been too long since I’ve had someone to play with.”

Nathaniel swallowed hard, trying to steel himself against the growing fear—and something else—that was coursing through him. “Let me go,” he demanded, though his voice was shaky and weak. “I don’t know what you want, but I won’t be part of it.”

The Witch’s smile widened, as if his words were a private joke only she could understand. “Oh, Nathaniel,” she cooed softly, leaning closer until her lips were mere inches from his. “I think you’ll find that resisting me is the last thing you’ll want to do.”

Her hand moved lower, tracing the lines of his abdomen, her nails leaving a faint trail of fire across his skin. Nathaniel jerked against the chains, trying to pull away from her touch, but the enchanted shackles tightened again, holding him firmly in place. His body felt like it was betraying him—the heat she had stirred within him earlier flared back to life, making it hard to think clearly. A small gasp escaped his lips before he could stop it.

“There it is,” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck. “That fear, that desire, all tangled together.” Her voice was a seductive whisper, each word dripping with control. “You’ll find that in this place, we blur the lines between what you want and what you fear.”

Nathaniel’s pulse quickened, his mind spinning in confusion. He didn’t want this. He couldn’t want this. But the way her magic wound around him, wrapping him in its tendrils, was starting to twist his body’s responses into something he couldn’t control. His skin burned wherever she touched him, and every soft word she whispered sent shivers down his spine.

“What… are you doing to me?” he rasped, his voice hoarse.

The Witch stepped back, tilting her head as she studied him, her expression unreadable. “Oh, it’s just a little enchantment,” she said with a casual wave of her hand. “Nothing too powerful—just enough to make sure you’re… receptive.” Her eyes flicked to the man in the corner again, her smile turning darker. “We enjoy watching you struggle, Nathaniel. There’s something so delicious about a man who fights against what he craves.”

Nathaniel’s stomach turned. He forced his eyes away from the pale figure who watched silently from the shadows, his hands clasped in front of him as if he were observing some mundane spectacle. “I’m not—” Nathaniel began, but his words faltered as the Witch closed the distance between them once again.

“Shh,” she whispered, placing a single finger against his lips. “You don’t have to lie. You’re in my world now. Everything you feel—every desire, every fear—I can taste it.” Her eyes gleamed with dark amusement. “And I’ll make sure you feel everything.”

Her fingers moved lower, teasingly brushing over the waistband of his pants. Nathaniel’s entire body went rigid, a mix of shame, panic, and unwanted arousal bubbling up inside him. He gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the confusing sensations that warred within him.

The Witch’s eyes sparkled as if she could sense the battle raging in his mind. She stepped back, her hands finally leaving his body, but the sudden absence of her touch left a strange void in its place. “Let’s play a little game,” she said, her voice sweet, but there was nothing innocent about the glint in her eyes. “I’ll give you a chance to escape.”

Nathaniel blinked, confusion swirling through him. “Escape?” he repeated, unsure if he had heard her correctly.

She nodded, the chains around his wrists and ankles glowing faintly before falling away, clattering against the stone floor. His legs buckled, but he managed to stay upright, his muscles aching from the strain of being bound. For a fleeting moment, hope surged through him—maybe this was his chance. Maybe she was toying with him, but if he could just get out of the room—

“Run, Nathaniel,” the Witch purred, stepping back into the shadows. “If you can make it out of this room, I’ll let you go.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Without waiting for an explanation, Nathaniel bolted, his legs carrying him toward the door on the far side of the room. His mind raced, adrenaline flooding his system, as the door loomed closer and closer. His heart leaped into his throat—escape was within reach.

But as his hand touched the door handle, the world around him shifted.

The door disappeared.

Nathaniel stumbled forward, crashing into what should have been a way out but was now a solid stone wall. He spun around, panic seizing him as the room itself began to warp and change. The floor beneath him rippled like water, and the walls seemed to breathe, pulsating with a strange energy.

“What the—?” Nathaniel gasped, his eyes darting around the room. The Witch’s laughter echoed from the shadows, light and mocking.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she said, her voice carrying from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Did you think it would be that easy?”

The room twisted again, and Nathaniel stumbled, trying to regain his balance. The space seemed to stretch and shrink all at once, the walls rippling like fabric. He turned around, desperately looking for any way out, but the door was gone—vanished without a trace. The symbols on the walls pulsed brighter, casting an eerie glow over everything.

The Witch appeared before him again, materializing from the darkness like a specter. “You’re in my world now,” she whispered, her voice wrapping around him like silk. “There is no escape, Nathaniel. You belong to me.”

Nathaniel’s chest heaved, his breath coming in short, desperate bursts. He could feel her magic pulling at him, tugging at the edges of his mind, twisting his thoughts. His legs felt heavy, his body betraying him again as it responded to her presence, the heat stirring in his core once more.

The Witch circled him slowly, her fingers trailing along his skin as she walked. “The more you resist,” she murmured, “the more you’ll want to give in.”

Nathaniel closed his eyes, his fists clenching as he tried to block her out, tried to fight against the growing pull of her magic. But it was everywhere—seeping into his skin, clouding his thoughts, making it harder and harder to remember why he had to resist in the first place.

And all the while, the man in the corner watched. Silent. Patient. Waiting.