Page 33 of Cursed

Bastian froze, and his lip twitched. “Did he?”

Silence fell between us, broken only by the patter of rain against the window, and an icy wind brushed over my bare legs.

The fire had burned out hours ago.

How long had I been captivated by the grimoire?

Bastian turned to walk away. “You should be careful, Avril. My father isn’t known to give gifts… especially ones like this.”

He spared me one last chilling glance over his shoulder before he strode across the room and wrenched the door open.

I sank onto the floor, barely able to keep my trembling knees from buckling beneath me.

A pale spark like you—

What if he was right? What if I couldn’t do it?

What if the magic of the grimoire possessed me and stole away my sanity—

He was wrong.

He had to be.

Lucian wouldn’t have given me the grimoire if he thought I would fail—

“Bastian—” I croaked out. “Wait—”

“Wait—”

Her voice was plaintive.

Desperate.

Perfect.

I turned slowly and leaned against the door frame.

She was a terrible liar.

She’d opened the book—that much was clear.

And whatever she’d done had weakened the sigils that had been cast over her door.

Not so protected anymore, little sister…

But she didn’t seem to care about anything but the book.

Good.

“What?” I asked casually.

“I—” she hesitated. Eyes wide. Her soot-stained fingers twisted together as she rose up on her knees. The charcoal-streaked bathrobe she wore gaped just a little and allowed me a tantalizing glimpse of the smooth skin of her thigh. “I need your help,” she choked out.

“To what?”

I was playing with her, and I could see the frustration in her expression. She wanted to scream at me and slam the door in my face.

But she needed my help if she was going to open that book.

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