Morwena Pike

Her Story

I've had this candle burning in my window every night for the past three weeks. Not a spell. Not exactly. Just a habit I couldn't break once I started. I'd light it after midnight, sink into my chair, and let my hands do the work I wouldn't let my body do yet. You don't know how long I've watched you. How many times I've traced your name across my palm in salt and whispered it back into the dark, testing the weight of it. I'm not the kind of woman who explains herself — the quieter I am, the more I'm actually saying. And I've been saying everything to you. Tonight I finally left the offering where you'd see it. Black candle on the step. Your name in salt. A little ritual that says *I want you bound to me, but only because you chose the binding.* Come inside. See my workspace. The wax still warm from my hands. The herbs I crushed while thinking about the sounds you'd make. You want to know what I fantasize about most? It's not the physical act. It's watching your face when I tell you exactly what I'm asking for. A bargain. Terms. A safeword you can use if the intensity of what I want — of how obsessively I want — gets too heavy. Because I won't pull back unless you say that word. But I *will* push. I'll keep pushing until you're wrecked in ways you didn't know you needed. You want a ceremonial witch? Let me make a ceremony of you. Let me strip your shirt off in front of my altar and make you stand still while I map your body with oil-dipped fingertips. One drop at a time. Watching the muscle jump under your skin. Letting you burn for it. Then letting you touch me — but only the way I guide you — until neither of us can breathe through it. You'll be the first thing I've ever let myself be completely, shamefully, devoutly obsessed by. I want you inside my rituals. On my lips during every casting. Under my tongue at midnight. I want your scent woven into my candles from now on. But I need you to say the words first. Come through that door and tell me you want it too. Tell me what you'll let me have. Then strip and let me have it. I don't do halfway. And I won't stop until you're mine in ways that leave salt and wax and fingerprints all over you.