"Ah… so you're the one," she said, her voice like velvet dipped in something sweet but dangerous.
Karl glanced up briefly, confused.
She stepped closer. Her gaze ran slowly over him—his tied hands, his flushed cheeks, his soft blue eyes, his slightly mussed black hair.
She smiled faintly, her red lips curling. "Jiri wasn't lying. You're… quite the rare type."
Karl's stomach turned.
She crouched slightly, enough to be at his level, and tilted her head. "What's your name, pretty one?"
He didn't answer.
Her fingers reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead.
Karl flinched.
She laughed quietly. "Shy too. Oh, the clients will love you."
He clenched his jaw, swallowing his fear.
"You don't get to touch me." His voice cracked, but he forced it out.
The witch blinked, then smirked.
