Page 79 of Cursed

I clenched my fists and took a breath as I tried to steady myself.

The eldest Romano brother was often in the library… While his brothers roared through the night on their motorcycles doing Lucian’s dark bidding, Titus studied ancient scrolls and manuscripts in the search of more power and arcane knowledge.

Of the three of them, I feared Titus the most.

Bastian was unpredictable and sadistic, but Titus seemed to revel in his cruelty.

The heavy oak door was open, and I lingered in the hallway and peered into the dimly lit interior.

My heart raced at the sight of towering shelves filled with ancient tomes, their spines cracked and leather-bound. Flickering candlelight made shadows that twisted like specters across the room.

The blackened silver dagger was heavy against my thigh, and I placed my hand against it to reassure myself of its presence.

You’ve already done this once, you can do it again.

I straightened my shoulders and stepped into the room, but every instinct was on high alert.

I was the one doing the hunting—but my prey was more than a little terrifying.

Titus was nestled in a shadowed corner of the library. He leaned against the bookshelf, his focus consumed by an ancient tome in his hands. The flickering candlelight danced around him and illuminated the sharp lines of his face and the dark chaos of his hair that curled over his collar and fell into his eyes.

The solid weight of the dagger knife against my thigh was both a comfort and a reminder of my reason for coming here.

I had taken only a sliver of Valen’s power, and yet it surged through me like tempestuous waves, and its ebb and flow left me unsteady and raw.

I couldn’t allow fear to take hold; I needed this spell to work.

Worrying about how Titus’ power would react to what I already held in my veins was tempting—but it would take my courage in an instant.

You can do this.

What if I can’t?

No time to think about that.

Titus looked up, and I wondered for the hundredth time if he could hear my thoughts.

I hope not.

I’d be dead.

“Avril,” he said. His voice was bitter. He didn’t like being interrupted.

The whispers in my mind buzzed like hornets as I forced myself to keep walking.

It would have been easier to freeze in place like a fawn—or run back to my room and forget all of my plans— so much easier to just… give in.

“What are you doing here?”

The question was simple, but my tongue was frozen in my mouth. Instead of answering, I continued to walk toward him, conscious of the sway of my hips and the way Titus’ gaze raked down my body.

“Looking for you,” I managed.

His eyebrow rose, but he didn’t close the book he was reading. “Oh, really. And why might that be?”

He was intrigued.

Better than nothing.

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