Page 119 of Cursed

The harbor hummed with activity now—the sound of machinery and men, and the rumble of trucks and forklifts.

I had to get out of here.

My mind swirledwith dark thoughts as shadows twisted through the room.

I sat at the vanity. The Bloodstone Grimoire lay open before me, its pages whispered to me—and the secrets I could scarcely comprehend only a few days ago had begun to reveal themselves to me. The cryptic symbols glinted under the soft glow of the candles I’d lit, but they seemed to taunt me as my fingertips traced their jagged lines. A pulse of power thrummed through my veins—three distinct beats aside from that of my own heart—

The power I had stolen from my stepbrothers had woven around the magic that flowed through me, and now I worked feverishly to harness it.

But every page I turned felt like failure, and each time I drew the blackened silver dagger across my skin, the secrets revealed on the ancient pages offered no comfort and no solution.

With every delicate brush of my skin against the parchment, the unsettling whispers grew louder and coiled around me like tendrils of smoke—seductive and sinister. I read ancient spells filled with forbidden magic that promised the strength and control I yearned for, but I couldn’t forget the price it demanded. Each of my stepbrothers had been gifted this book—and each of them had bent it to their will. The horrifying images inked on the pages described painful rites that would strip a sorcerer of their power, and with it their life. Their soul.

That was how they had enhanced their powers—that was how Lucian had grown so powerful and taken control of the Necromi.

Of all Messana.

A sharp knock shattered my concentration and echoed through the stillness like a thunderclap.

I jerked back, breath caught in my throat, as the grimoire momentarily released its hold on me.

I waited, hoping that it was just my imagination—but the knock echoed again.

Harder this time.

“Avril?” Titus’s voice was muffled by the door.

Gods, he was strong. How could he get this close?

“Just— hang on,” I called out. I slapped the grimoire shut, though the image of the swirling sigils burned behind my eyelids. I took a breath, rubbed my palms against my thighs, and walked across the room to unlock the door. I forced a smile onto my lips, but I could feel how unsteady it was.

He stood on the threshold, his hands flexing at his sides.

“Titus—” I feigned surprise. I hadn’t seen him since the seduction in the library… when I’d stolen his magic.

In a brief moment of panic, I wondered if he could sense it on me.

Or if he could remember what had happened— I was hopeful that the spell had wiped their memories, but I couldn’t be sure. Not really.

“What— What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you,” he said. He moved to step into the room, but the sigils stopped him and he frowned. “Will you invite me in?”

“Oh— I’m sorry, someone must have refreshed the sigils… I didn’t realize.” I stepped back and nodded as my magic rose inside me—original and stolen. “You can come in.”

His mouth twisted, but after a moment, Titus stepped inside. His dark gaze swept over the room, and surprise flickered in his expression as he sensed the strength of the enchantments, and I hoped he wouldn’t question their origin.

“You’ve been busy,” he said. His voice was stiff, but the rumble of it sent a chill down my spine and tightened my stomach.

“Maybe,” I replied and forced nonchalance into my tone. His hand twitched, and the door swung closed behind him.

“You’re studying the grimoire,” he said. “I recall I offered to help you—”

“You did,” I replied.

Gods, he didn’t remember.

Or was he testing me?

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