Page 17 of Cursed

There was no warmth in his gaze, only the frigid hunger of a predator waiting to pounce. I swallowed hard and forced myself to meet his eyes. I didn’t know what I was searching for—perhaps any sign of humanity, any hint of mercy.

There was none.

“Choose wisely, Avril,” he warned as his voice dropped to a chilling whisper that echoed through the dimly lit study.

My heart lurched in my chest, and my hands itched to touch the grimoire he held—that malevolent entity waiting to ensnare me. As I stared at it, I felt the pull grow stronger, dragging me toward the abyss.

Lucian’s pale eyes narrowed, and he stepped back. I wondered if he could hear my frantic thoughts—or if he knew how close I was to giving in.

“Enough of this,” he snapped. “Return to your room and waste no more of my time.”

He gestured briefly, an irritated motion, and the heavy wooden door swung open.

His command hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I turned away. The urge to run as fast as I could was overwhelming, but I forced my feet to move forward, one step at a time. Slow and measured.

My heels clicked on the stone and I counted each step as I tried to keep my breaths, and my thoughts, as calm as I could.

I didn’t want Lucian to see how his words had wounded me, even though it felt as though I was bleeding from a thousand cuts.

As I stepped into the hallway, the door slammed shut behind me.

The silence of the corridor enveloped me, yet it felt anything but safe. My fingers brushed the cold stone walls, and I paused long enough to kick off the expensive heels I wore. The flagstones were cold under my bare feet, but I didn’t care. I bent to sweep up my shoes and rushed as quickly as I could—silent as a mouse—down the hallway, past the library, and up the grand staircase.

A voice whispered in my mind, taunting me like an unwelcome ghost.“Do you really think you’ll survive a marriage to Lucian?”

My heart raced as I stumbled up the stairs and gripped the bannister tight to keep myself from falling as my legs buckled. Each thought that spun through my mind brought new torment—the paintings of Lucian’s victims— twisted in eternal agony.

Would I become one of them? A pale shade trapped in his collection of souls?

I pressed my palm against my chest and felt the frantic thud of my heartbeat as panic rose inside me.

I didn’t want to end up like my mother.

Yet the allure of the dark grimoire pulled at me—what if that was my only choice? What if it was the only way I could survive this place? It promised strength and control—two things I had never possessed.

But at what cost?

I joltedawake as the sound of thunder crashed through my mind like a fist against glass.

The darkness clung to me, thick and oppressive, punctuated only by the occasional flash of lightning that slashed through the air, revealing fleeting glimpses of the room’s twisted shadows. I gasped for breath and tried desperately to shake off the nightmare I’d only barely escaped.

Each pulse of light cast a stark silhouette against the walls, and twisted familiar shapes into grotesque caricatures.

I blinked rapidly, trying to chase away the remnants of sleep, but unease had settled in my gut like an unwelcome guest.

Something was wrong—terribly wrong.

I sat up and rubbed my hands over my face.

What a pathetic thought.

Something was wrong— Something had been wrong since the day I’d stepped foot in this place.

I took a deep breath and winced at the metallic tang of the storm on my tongue. The heavy scent of rain seeped through the cracks in the windows—the storm should have been a comfort. I used to love the rain. And storms used to be comforting.

Now they were just… there.

Outside, the wind howled like a vengeful spirit and rattled the window panes as if it sought to invade my sanctuary.

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