Page 25 of Beneath the Cursed Veil

I tilted my head. Her answer wasn’t what I expected. None of this was. It was strange to think that I knew her so intimately, and yet not at all.

“Then why did you?” I pushed, needing to know more. To know everything.

She laughed without humor. “I’m broke and desperate. Maybe not in that order.”

Her reason for being in Faerie was both understandable and disappointing. Some part of me had hoped that maybe she was there for me. If her shock at seeing me was anything to go by though, Meera had no idea who I was until I barged into that room.

Lost to my own thoughts, I didn’t notice her move until it was too late. Jaw locked tight, she pulled away from my loose embrace and sprinted toward the wall perpendicular. Surprise made me slow to react as she grabbed the handle of the dagger and pulled it from the wall.

She flipped it with a flick of her wrist, catching it by the tip.

I cocked an eyebrow. “Do not?—”

Too late.

I side-stepped the throw, but the edge of the blade grazed my cheek. The cut stung, but I suspected it was superficial at most. I looked from her to the blade. “Was that necessary?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her lips bobbed as she choked. She was trying to persuade me, but my own compulsion kept her from speaking.

She’d broken through my command to not move, but her energy was draining. Meera teetered on her feet.

“I . . . don’t . . . feel . . .” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, lids falling shut. Her knees gave out at the same time that I lunged.

Her limp body fell into me, held up entirely by the arms I wrapped around her waist.

Fuck.

I’d spent years looking for this woman, but I never could have guessed how I’d find her. Indecision warred in me as I debated my choices.

Stay here, wait until she wakes up, and then chance how long it took her to break my persuasion—again.

Or . . . I could bring her home.

The device on the floor buzzed again. A picture of her with another woman, both laughing against a backdrop of blue ocean waves. A world she had seen. One I was taking her from.

The decision snapped into place, like a click of a lock.

Kidnapping the prince was reason enough to bring her back. Everything else . . . I shook my head. It didn’t matter.

I picked Meera up, cradling her against my chest while I carried her bride-style. The tension in my body eased when her head lolled against my shoulder, duffel bag swinging with every step away from her apartment.

When I first saw her, I wanted answers.

Now? Something told me I wouldn’t stop there.

Chapter 10

Meera

I floated, weightless, wrapped in a warm, blissful embrace. My cheek pressed against something impossibly soft, and I let out a contented sigh. It was perfect—until I shifted, the need to move nagging at my limbs. Bones popped and cracked to the side as my skull rolled against what felt like a doughy cloud. Every muscle ached, as if they’d been stuck in the same position for too long.

My eyes fluttered open, my vision blurry despite my attempts to focus. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar, pale blue with hanging lights. I squinted trying to make out the shapes. They looked like . . . flowers? White flowers with petals that changed from dark blue at the tips to a brilliant white light at the center. They were mesmerizing.

Until I realized what should have been glaringly obvious. My apartment ceiling was the old popcorn stuff that went out of style thirty years ago. I had ‘boob lights’ as my sister called them—weird half spheres that tapered to the slightest dark point in the middle. That wasn’t the only thing that tripped up my senses. This mattress was divine,which meant it definitely wasn’t mine. That sucker had springs that creaked if I breathed too heavily.

Panic flickered at the edges of my thoughts. Had I gone to the bar last night?

I struggled to gather the scattered fragments of memory. There was wine. Someone’s lips against mine. Music that pulsed through my veins. A rush of energy, something electric beneath my skin. But everything was fractured, floating in and out of reach. The only thing I was sure of—besides the deep ache in my joints—was this odd pressure on my legs, an unfamiliar weight pressing down.

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