Page 21 of Cursed

No. Never.

These apparitions clawed at my heart, reminding me of the bloodline I could never outrun.

“Stop it! Stop!” I cried, the words bursting forth from my lips unbidden, raw and desperate. I thrashed against the confines of my bed, but the more I struggled, the tighter the sheets became, and they wrapped around me like silk from a spider’s web.

“Let go, darling,” Lucian’s voice crooned, his words were drenched in seduction and each one curled around my senses like smoke. “Just let it take you. This was meant for you. My bride—”

With a gut-wrenching gasp, I jolted awake, my body slick with perspiration. I gasped for breath. Ragged and shallow, the sound echoed in the still room. The storm roared outside, shaking the very walls of Withermarsh, but the darkness had broken and dawn’s pale light stained the sky even though the storm clouds remained.

I blinked against the dim light filtering through the rain-streaked window. The cold air brushed against my skin and grounded me yet again in the reality that seemed far too close to the nightmare I had just escaped.

I sat up and the luxurious coverlet and expensive sheets pooled around my waist.

The shadows in the corners of my room seemed to stretch and curl toward the shrouded lump on the floor at the foot of my bed.

The Bloodstone Grimoire, waiting for me like a predator only barely hidden in the underbrush.

What had Lucian intended by leaving it here?

The question made my stomach churn, a twisted knot that tightened with every heartbeat.

“Just look at me,” it seemed to whisper through the thick wool blanket. The words echoed in my thoughts. “Look—”

I didn’t want to touch it; I wanted to forget the book existed.

But how could I when it loomed there, taunting me—

I gripped the blankets tightly as dawn’s pale light seeped through the curtains.

I knew I couldn’t hide forever.

The storm outside was easing, and the heavy pelting rain had transformed into a gentle tap against the windows.

But I knew it wouldn’t be like this for long.

What was I supposed to do now?

The grimoire— I had to dosomething.

But what? —I wasn’t strong enough.

Lucian wanted me to give in—he wanted me to use it

My entire being recoiled at the thought. But I couldn’t help but feel the gnawing sensation— a morbid curiosity that churned in the pit of my stomach.

Tearing my gaze away from the blanketed lump at the foot of my bed, I looked out toward the window.

The dawn’s light was still weak and grey as it filtered through the bruised-looking clouds that hung low in the sky. The wind howled mournfully and I imagined how the trees bent as it whipped through their skeletal branches.

I hugged my knees to my chest and stifled a shiver as a chill seeped into the marrow of my bones.

The nightmares had seemed so real, so vivid, and they clung to me like tendrils of misty smoke.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside my room, and I stiffened instinctively. Sweat prickled at the small of my back, but I didn’t move. I listened as the footsteps grew louder, then softer again—drifting away. It was impossible to tell who it was or what their intentions were—friend or foe all sounded alike when they moved past, unseen and muffled by the protective spells that lay over the doors of my room.

I was a prisoner here.

And Lucian wouldn’t be satisfied until I submitted to the darkness, or it consumed me.

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