Page 140 of Cursed

That was all he had ever cared about.

Just then, the same door Lucian had entered from creaked open, drawing all attention. After a moment’s hush, Avril walked into the chamber.

She moved slowly; her gaze cast downward, each step hesitant, as though the stone floor might open up and swallow her whole. The atmosphere shifted palpably as whispers cascaded through the room, hushed tones that wrapped around us.

“—so beautiful—”

“Lucian’s new bride—”

“Another wedding will happen soon— Surely—”

Ghouls.

But I couldn’t deny that she was beautiful. Her auburn hair had been swept away from her face and secured with pins that were inset with dark gems that glittered in the torchlight like spider’s eyes. Her dark gray gown was tantalizingly sheer, and the neckline was cut daringly low. Her shoulders and cheeks were pale, but the dark lipstick she wore accentuated the softness of her lips and her eyes glowed with a strange light.

The darkness of the grimoire—it had to be.

Velvet gloves encased her delicate hands and covered her arms to hide the scars from her blood-letting.

Smart girl.

Bastian’s breath hissed through his teeth as his eyes roamed over her.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Even Titus shifted on his feet.

We all wanted her.

“Ah, my lovely Avril,” Lucian crooned in a voice that was poisonously sweet. “Come closer.”

A surge of protectiveness clawed at my insides. My heart raced as I observed her delicate form. Every subtle movement revealed her unease, but she was forcing herself to stay upright and keep her shoulders back—chin high. I glimpsed Titus shifting restlessly, concern etched into his features, while Bastian’s expression was filled with protectiveness and maybe even dread.

“What a beauty,” a Council member murmured, his tone dripping with admiration. “Such grace will surely strengthen our legacy. Imagine if she and Lucian—”

“She is destined for greatness,” another interjected. “I can feel it—”

“Despite her bloodline—”

“Perhaps because of it…”

What?

“Silence!” Lucian’s voice cut through the murmurs like a whip, silencing them instantly.

I watched, tense and anxious, as Avril drew nearer, her movements slow and deliberate. My instincts flared, yearning to reach out, to draw her close and shield her from this sinister gathering.

She stood in front of Lucian and faced the room. My father laid his hands upon her bare shoulders, slowly and deliberately. I noticed the subtle tightening of Avril’s hands as Lucian’s long fingers caressed her smooth skin. She wanted to flee, but she was trapped here—just like we all were.

The whispers surged through the room like a tide, rising and falling as the shadows clung to the stone walls of the catacombs.

A strangled cry echoed in the room, and I turned with the rest of the crowd to watch a young woman being dragged into the center of the gathering by two of Lucian’s guards. They wore black cloaks and hoods that hid their faces.

The young woman’s hands were bound with a coarse rope that shimmered with magic. Panic flared in her wide eyes, and her gaze darted from face to face, seeking a rescuer.

The Council members shifted uneasily and I could see morbid intrigue in their eyes as they stared at the young woman. She wore a grass-stained cotton nightgown, and her bare feet were crusted with dark mud. Her hay-colored hair was tangled and snarled with fragments of dead leaves, as though she’d been dragged through the woods on her way to this place.

A hasp of horror cut through the whispers—a noblewoman among the guests stood frozen at the edge of the gathered penitents. My eyes narrowed as I noticed a similarity in their features—the girl’s mother. The young woman spotted her at the same time and reached out for her, but her black-cloaked escorts held her back.

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