Page 4 of Grave Curse

God, how I’d hated him then.

I hated Tyr now, almost as much as I’d adored him when I was a small child and shared my very first kiss with him when I’d only been seven or so…

“What the actual fuck are you doing?”

The sharp, familiar voice barking at me made me jump. The jack’s hand crank slipped, and the jagged point sliced across my palm. I cried out, then immediately clamped my lips between my teeth, but it was too late.

Shit.

I’d made a sound.

Oh God, I’d made a sound of pain.

Right in front of a god.

Panic ballooned in my chest, irrational and all-consuming. Making a sound of pain was the absolute worst. It excited those who thought they were gods and only brought more pain raining down on me. I could never allow my pain to be seen or heard by a god who would delight in it. That way lay dragons.

“Fuck.” Tyr materialized beside me, crouched beside the car’s tire while I clutched my fisted hand to my chest. I found myself staring at the man I hated—dark blonde hair that was so naturally straight it looked silken; light brown eyes the color of whiskey; a beard so short and well-manicured it could almost be scruff. When he’d been a little boy, his cheeks had been cute and chipmunk-like, but that boy had long ago disappeared. Tyr hadbecome a granite-faced man a long, long time ago. The Night of Blood, as I always thought of it. That was the night he’d killed for the first time. He’d done it to save me.

Neither one of us had ever fully recovered from it.

My stomach rolled over hard. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on not throwing up. Think of kittens. Puppies. Rainbows, Silly, impossibly high heels that looked so cute, and if they had bows or sparkles, so much the better…

“Ginger.”

“Fuck off.” Honestly, didn’t he know how much I hated him?

“Let me see your hand.”

Goddamn it, Tyr, let me go to my mental happy place. “It’s fine.”

“Ginger, let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“It is.”

“It’s bleeding.You’rebleeding. Blood’s dripping from your hand like a leaky faucet. Let me see so I can take care of it.”

I almost whimpered, and I had to once again bite both my lips together from making another intolerable sound of weakness. My shoulder hit the car that I was crouched next to, telling me that I’d semi-swooned, but I still didn’t open my eyes. If I did, I might see the blood, and I couldn’t do that. No way. Not in front of Tyr. I’d throw up for sure, maybe even faint, and I couldn’t do any of that in front of him.

So at this point my plan was simple—I just had to keep my hand balled up and eyes shut for all eternity, and everything would be okay.

I could do that.

I could do anything if I set my mind to it.

“Snap, I need you to listen to my voice.”

Snap. Like Gingersnap. How long had it been since Tyr called me that? Before I hated him, I used to love it when he’d call me Snap.

“Listen to my voice, and do exactly as I tell you, yeah?” Some kind of woolly fabric wrapped around my hands, but I didn’t open my eyes to see what it was. “Take nice, deep breaths, slow and even. I’m here, so you know you’re safe from everything this world could ever throw at you.”

Um, I completely didnotknow that, actually. Yet at his words, for some reason my body let go of a bone-breaking tension I hadn’t even known was there.

“Good girl. Now, I’ve wrapped your hands up in my scarf so you won’t see the blood. Don’t look down at your clothes, just open your eyes and look at me.”

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