Page 53 of The Cursed

"This was a mistake," I said, shaking my head and retreating.

Gray caught me by the back of the neck, using his grip to turn me back to face him. His mouth came down on mine roughly, his tongue forcing me to open. He pulled away just as suddenly, leaving me following after him. "Say it."

"I hate that you made me love you," I said, the desperate words coming out as the barest of whispers. I couldn't deny the need that pulsed in my heart, the way that every sweet and thoughtful act of his had wormed his way beneath my skin. He might have been the devil and capable of great evil, but he also took care of me in ways I'd never had.

He showed me what I meant to him anytime he had the chance, and those moments more than anything, wore away at me until only that truth remained.

"I know you do, Witchling," he said, his mouth spreading into a dazzling smile. His eyes lit as if I'd given him more magic than he knew how to contain, the sun reflecting off him and making him appear like the angel he had once been.

"I'm pretty sure that's the part where you're supposed to say it back," I said, pouting up at him.

His grin widened as he leaned down, touching his mouth to mine far more gently. He lingered there, sharing breath with me and holding my stare. "I love you, Witchling. For everything you are and for everything you are not."

I sighed in relief, smiling through the bittersweet pain.

A single moment of happiness to call my own before the memory became agonizing.

I pressed onto my toes, kissing him as I wrapped my arms around his neck. Lucifer wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me from my feet and holding me tight.

I hoped he didn't see the knife coming later.

I hoped he felt no pain.

CHAPTER 29

WILLOW

Imade my way into the library, knocking on the secret door softly. Hoping no one in the main library rooms heard me as I waited impatiently to be let in.

Iban finally pushed open the door, hurrying to drag me inside before I could be spotted. The small space was far too crowded, with a representative from each legacy house huddled inside. But it was the blade in the center of the table that stole the breath from my lungs.

I'd come here knowing what I planned to do, but that didn't make seeing it any easier.

I strode into the room, never taking my eyes off the weapon. Sound filtered out, my head filling with static. I felt as if I'd plunged underwater, as if the only way to survive this was to go entirely numb. I was drowning, suffocating beneath the surface.

Standing at the head of the table beside Iban, I plastered the mask on my face. Nova caught my expression, her lips moving with sounds I couldn't hear. I shook my head, trying to shake off the feeling of being unable to breathe. It was worse than when Gray had choked me the night before.

The numbness was always worse than the fear.

The figure of a man appeared against the back wall, his form hazy as he cast a leisurely glance up and down my body. He studied me, assessed me, and found me severely lacking if the way he chuckled and turned his back to me was any indication. The faint shadow of white wings hid his eyes. Still, I found myself straining toward him regardless.

Iban touched my arm, jolting me out of the trance that had consumed me. Breath returned to my lungs, forcing me to slap a palm down on the table to catch myself as I sucked back greedy gulps of air.

“Are you okay?” Nova asked, stepping around the group of people who had gathered to watch me crumble.

I nodded my head, clearing my throat that felt hoarse. "I'm fine. Just a vision," I said, shaking it off as if it was inconsequential.

"Loralai used to have them too," an older witch said, her blue eyes shining as she studied me. I turned to stare at her, finding comfort in the fact that my aunt had been unable to hide the more mysterious side of the Hecate powers. Everyone assumed that we merely raised the dead, or brought back zombies without the memory of who they had once been.

Few knew the truth. We had to commune with the dead and know we were unable to give them the one thing that they wanted more than anything.

Life.

Loralai had often spoken about guiding those with unfinished business on their journey to peace. According to my father, she'd considered that her true calling and the real magic she had to offer.

"I'm glad to know I'm not alone," I said simply, trying to push aside my embarrassment at having been witnessed in the throes of a vision. Mainly since I knew that vision had been prompted by my agony over what I was about to do. "Iban told you all why you're here?"

Iban cleared his throat, nodding as he reached out to wrap his palm around the bone handle of the blade. I swallowed, hating the sight of him being the one to hold it. It felt like another layer to my betrayal, like working with Iban somehow made Gray's murder worse.

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