Page 13 of Cursed

But I couldn’t— I couldn’t be like them.

My stomach churned, and I tried to remember the last time I’d eaten a full meal without throwing up.

I couldn’t.

I took one breath, then another, and forced myself to stand up straighter.

They’d be coming to fetch me soon. I had to get ready.

Lucian didn’t like it when his commands were ignored… I’d learned the hard way that Lucian didn’t let disobedience slide. And I had already pushed him far enough.

* * *

Showered,dressed as modestly as possible—which was a lofty feat. Daringly cut, sheer, or shimmering clothes filled my closets; they were made of luxurious, sensual fabrics I would never have chosen for myself.

My mother had relished this opulence. But I hated every single piece of clothing that I was forced to choose from.

The deep aubergine dress I’d finally settled on covered my chest, but its low back prevented me from wearing a bra, and a high side slit revealed far more than I liked.

This was what Lucian wanted.

To see me on display.

But he didn’t want to see me cower. He expected me to behave as my mother had—eagerly preening for his gaze alone.

My heels clicked on the stone floors as I followed the silent servant who had come to fetch me.

I didn’t dare ask questions.

And I didn’t really want to find out the reason I’d been summoned.

And I dreaded what lay behind that heavy wooden door.

My heart thudded against my ribs as the dark, polished surface gleamed ominously under the flickering lantern light.

I could almost hear it whispering to me, taunting me with memories of betrayal and humiliation.

The last time I had crossed that threshold, my stepbrothers had reveled in my disgrace while Lucian watched, an amused spectator to my torment.

A shiver crept down my spine, but I forced myself to breathe deeply as the servant knocked on the door.

It swung open under her hand and I bit down on my cheek to keep myself steady. There was blood on my tongue and my hands clenched into fists at my sides. The sleeves of the gown were long enough to hide my hands, and I was grateful for that small mercy. I didn’t want him to see my fear. I was certain that he could smell it.

Titus seemed to think he could.

Why would Lucian be any different?

I hesitated, but only for a moment.

What awaited me in that room?

Would this be another act of cruelty, another display of power meant to remind me of my place beneath his boot? With a final, shaky breath, I forced my legs into motion and walked past the silent servant and into Lucian’s study.

The moment I stepped into the room, the air seemed to shift around me.

The oppressive scent of the room enveloped me—sweet and acrid, like burnt sugar mixed with decay.

It curled into my lungs and dragged me deeper into the suffocating atmosphere.

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