Page 15 of The Cursed

A wave of my hand called to the earth beneath its feet, roots extending from the forest floor to wrap around his hind canine legs that supported his weight. They wound around him, encircling his torso and catching his hands to pin at his side. Gray released him gradually, stepping away when he was certain that I held him firm.

He shifted behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist and molding himself to my spine. I shouldn't have relished the support or the way he made me feel grounded, giving my body an anchor as the magic threatened to consume me. "Give it what it wants," he murmured, nuzzling the side of my neck with his nose in something that brought me as much shame as it did comfort.

"It's too much," I said, shaking my head. My hand trembled at my side, the pull of the magic too much to ignore. I didn't want anything that could force me, that could strip me of my will with the magic taking control.

"Let it go. You'll drain yourself fighting this. The Madizza line is only one line of Green witches. There are two, which means the Madizzas only control half of the earth magic I gave. The Hecate line is the only necromancer line. All of it exists within you. You'll need time to adjust to the strength of that power," he said, wrapping his hand around my forearm. He raised it in front of me, pausing only a breath from the chest of the Cursed and leaving me to cross the final distance.

I felt the beating of his heart without touching him, felt the throbbing of it in pulse with the flow of his blood. His life hovered just out of reach, but it didn't call to me.

Because necromancy wasn't about death, but about giving life to those who had already lost it.

I touched my palm to his chest decisively, as a rush of black tendrils swarmed to absorb my hand. They surrounded me, pulsating from my flesh to wrap around his neck.

His eyes held my stare, something human lurking in that gaze as he yelped. That yelp, a plea, escalated into a howl, the sound echoing through the trees as he tossed his head back.

Fur fell to the forest floor, draping off his head and fluttering in the wind until it touched the leaves below. They enveloped it, taking his fur as an offering.

Watching in horror, I couldn't wrench my hand away as his skin followed, melting away as if it had been dipped in acid. His snout faded into shadow, blood dripping from his face as it shifted into that of a man. His form shrunk, his legs and arms twisting and the bones cracking. Nails retreated into his fingers as a human head of hair grew to replace his fur.

The tree roots retreated into the earth, returning to the place they belonged and leaving the man who had taken the place of the Cursed to sway on his feet. His arms raised, gripping my wrist gently as he dropped to his knees in front of me.

He was entirely nude, and a pulse of disapproval came in the form of Gray's warning growl.

The Cursed turned his stare up to my face, shocking violet eyes meeting mine from a handsome, human man.

"Consort," he said, his voice full of awe as he leaned forward and nuzzled his face against the hand he held. "I am yours."

9

GRAY

Willow froze, gazing down at the man kneeling before her in horror. A growl rumbled in my throat, watching him nuzzle my wife's hand like she hung the moon in the sky.

"Myconsort," I clarified from my position behind her. The bastard didn't so much as glance away from Willow, unable to tear that eerie gaze away from her. When Charlotte had imprisoned the Cursed within the woods, I hadn't thought it possible to undo. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, seeing as all magic had a price.

I just had to wonder what the cost would be to Willow; what she would do with the newfound knowledge that she could free those who remained in the woods.

I pressed myself tighter into her spine, making my presence known when she seemed inclined to forget me altogether.

She released a deep breath, sagging into my body as if it was suddenly too much for her to support herself. My arm squeezed around her waist, claiming her for myself even as the Cursed vaulted to his feet to assist her.

Willow accepted the help, her uncertainty about the male in front of her driving her to lean on the only support she had. If I had it my way, I wouldn't need to wait for the day when I was all she had left. When everyone she came to know and cared for was gone, that was the day that I knew Willow would be mine and mine alone.

"Your name," Willow said. The words weren't a question, more a breathy demand. The creature’s eyes pulsed with light, the violet shining as he rose to his feet and seemed completely unbothered by his own nudity.

"Jonathan," he said, his gaze shifting to one of confusion as if he had to focus to try to locate the memory of who he had been all those centuries prior. "Jonathan Hatt."

Willow righted her legs beneath her, pushing to her feet until she stood tall beneath the Cursed male. She reached up with a single hand as she shrugged off my touch, cupping Johnathan's cheek. I moved to the side ever so slightly, just far enough to observe what she did. Even though it physically pained me to allow her to touch another, the look on her face had nothing to do with carnal desires and everything to do with her recognizing her own capabilities.

"Your debt is not yet paid, Jonathan Hatt," she said, the words spoken gently. Even though they were barely more than a whisper in her exhaustion, there was no mistaking the power that thrummed in each note. Her violet eye glowed as she said the words.

"A debt like mine can never be paid in full, Consort," Jonathan said, the reverence in his voice making me clench my fist at my side.

Inky dark tendrils spread from Willow's fingertips, sinking into Jonathan's cheek. He didn't flinch back in spite of the way they bit into his skin, sinking deep. The hum of magic filled the clearing, making my blood echo the symphony of my wife.

Fur spread along his skin as she touched him, his back bowing and bones cracking as he dropped to all fours. It was far shorter than it had been in the form of his Cursed creature, a more smooth texture as his very being shrunk.

He grew smaller and smaller, his screams muffled as he fought to withhold them. They trailed off with time, the shrill sound fading into a distinctly feline yowl.

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