Page 152 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

“Be still.” I rubbed the liquid in my hands. “This may be cold.”

“What?” Anything else he might have said died on a sigh and a deep groan as I rubbed the salve over his shoulder and down his arm. The muscles tensed beneath my touch, but I saw the knots ease and the small bruises beneath disappear. “That is . . . amazing.”

I tried and failed to ignore the sounds he made as I moved across his back to his other shoulder, but I knew they would be burned into my brain like a brand. I also tried to deny the way my lower belly clenched, but I knew I’d probably touch myself while thinking about it when I bathed tonight.

“Camilla?”

“Hmm?” I asked, shaking away the illicit thoughts.

“I said, what is that?” He half turned toward me.

“Oh,” I said, “it’s a homemade salve I made from an herb I had. I found a few plants that are similar to the ones on Onuna. It heals through your pores and nerves . . . and I’m rambling.”

“You’re fine.” He chuckled softly. “You really are one of the smartest, strongest witches.”

I felt my face burn. “My family would proudly disagree.”

“Your family? You never talk about them.” He tipped his head forward, stretching his muscles as I rubbed my hand down his spine. His wet hair clung to his shoulder, inky black and heavy. He arched, the sound he was making more in pain than anything, and I wondered how much damage he’d done to his spine.

“You never talk about yours.”

I saw his jaw set in a hard line and felt the tension beneath my fingers. I knew he was about to shut down, so I went on.

“There isn’t much to say about mine. I grew up in a big home with a few siblings. We all competed for the head of the coven once we hit eighteen. That’s when our powers surge the brightest. I was considered the weakest of my siblings.”

“How many siblings did you have?”

“Just my older brother and sister.”

“What happened to them?”

I swallowed hard, my touch faltering. Leaning forward, I grabbed more salve, rubbing it between my palms before sliding them over his back. “I told you we competed. It was normal then. Most covens only had one child who would inherit their family’s powers, but all three of us inherited from my mom’s side. I wasn’t as popular growing up and was often bullied. My siblings were the cool kids, I guess. It wasn’t until I hit puberty that anyone even paid attention to me.”

Vincent grinned a very male grin and glanced over his shoulder at my breasts. “I can see why.”

I pressed a tad bit harder into his back, and he yelped. “Hey, I’m trying to tell you a story here. Pay attention!”

“I’m sorry.” He smiled softly, and I knew he wasn’t truly sorry. “You just looked sad for a second. That’s all.”

My hands paused on his shoulder before I pressed deeper into the muscle. “It wasn’t a happy childhood, but when do we villains have one?”

“You’re not a villain, Camilla. I have you beat by a mile.”

“Is that how you see yourself?”

He nodded. “Keep going with your story.”

I swallowed, returning to his aching muscles and a past I hated. “As I said, most covens only give power to one child, not three. In each generation, the families compete for control. Whoever is left standing is head of the covens for the next fifty years or so.”

“They made you fight each other?”

“It’s tradition,” I whispered. “It happened on El Donuma. The first trial separates us in the deep forest. We have to rely on magic to find our way to the main temple. You would think that whoever collects the gem would win, right? Wrong. You have to transport the gem all the way back to your family without using magic. That’s where it gets bloody. The contestants cheat, of course, but whoever makes it wins.” I paused, remembering the sounds of crackling bushes and screams rending the night. It had rained so hard, and I was soaked and muddy, trudging through that damn forest.

“We don’t have to talk about it—”

“Aguiniga,” I whispered. “That was his last name. His power rivaled mine and my family’s, and he knew it. The ones he allied with knew it, too. They planned to take us out first. I remember running with my siblings at my side, that damn jewel clutched in my hand, but he cheated, used magic, and not just any magic. He used a death curse. The ones they don’t teach us. I remember trying to give that damn jewel to my sister or my brother. They were stronger than me, more loved. They were needed, not me, but they refused. I used to think they hated me, you know? Like most siblings do, but . . .”

I didn’t realize I had stopped touching him, my hands resting in my lap as the memories took me. The lights flickered in the room, Vincent’s head whipping toward them.

---