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I’m a Witch Who Bought a Strong Werewolf Slave Novel Cover

I’m a Witch Who Bought a Strong Werewolf Slave

After purchasing a strikingly handsome, muscular werewolf slave from a magic black market, a witch finds herself dealing with more than she bargained for. Her new captive exhibits alarming symptoms: a constant, low growl, a burning body temperature, and a golden, predatory gaze. Suspecting a case of wolfsbane fever, she seeks help from the seller. However, the truth is far more dangerous. Her werewolf isn't sick; he is driven by a primal hunger to mark his mistress.
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Chapter 2

"Stop shaking." I grabbed Bruce's wrist, but his skin was so hot I immediately pulled my hand back.

The skin beneath my fingers felt like searing iron, and his muscles were hard as rock.

I wasn't very experienced. Was this what a top-tier werewolf's body was like?

"Bruce, relax."

"I know it's your first time, so it's normal to be nervous. Once we get moving and you work up a sweat, you'll feel better."

"Come with me." I tried to make my voice gentle as I led him to the basement.

When I opened the door, the strong smell of sage, sulfur, and potion residue hit me in the face.

Bruce stopped in his tracks, taking in the room: herb scraps scattered across the floor, thick leather straps hanging from a heavy wooden beam, and a long, scorch-marked table in the center.

His expression turned a little strange. "In here?"

"That's right. There's plenty of space. It's a bit messy, but feel free to go wild," I said, pushing him toward the center of the room.

"And this is..."

I watched as he bumped his head against the dangling leather straps.

"Uh, if you want to use the straps, I guess you can," I said thoughtfully. "They're usually for holding things in place, but if you're afraid you can't control yourself..."

After all, some potions have side effects. It would be a real pain if he knocked something over.

He paused, then said, "If that is your command, I will comply."

I nodded, satisfied. This top-tier werewolf was obedient, just as advertised.

I turned and pulled a rag that had probably never been washed from a mountain of junk in the corner, shoving it into Bruce's hands.

Then I pointed to the giant brass cauldron next to us, which weighed at least half a ton and was caked with a thick layer of black potion residue.

"Alright, Bruce. Since you have so much stamina, let's not waste any time."

"See this cauldron? I want it shining like a mirror within the hour. Scrub hard, got it?"

"...Scrub...the cauldron?" The sight of the handsome Bruce holding that filthy rag was so absurd I almost laughed.

But he didn't move, his wolf ears standing ramrod straight.

After a full five seconds, he finally managed to speak. "You spent your life savings on me... just so I could scrub your cauldron?"

I blinked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of course. What else? Did you think I bought you just to look pretty?"

The air went still.

In that moment, I clearly heard the low growl that had been rumbling in his throat all day cut off, as if he had choked on it.

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