Page 56 of The Cursed

The last time he would call me Witchling.

I stared down at him as his eyes fluttered open, releasing his face and placing my hands on the back of the sofa behind him. I used the leverage to take him deeper, rolling my hips more fervently. He moaned my name, his cock twitching inside me as a sign of his impending release.

I moved slowly, angling my hand into the bag and pulling the dagger free. Leaning in, I took his mouth with one last kiss; the gentle brush of my lips against his made him feel like he was already a ghost.

I knew there were tears in my eyes as I pulled back finally, placing the blade at my side. He opened his eyes, his head tilting in concern as he cupped my cheek. "What's wrong, my love?" he asked.

My bottom lip trembled as I gave in to the threat of tears, unable to hold them back any longer. "I'm sorry," I said, gasping through the breath that didn't come easy.

I fought for it, trying to quell my panic at the confusion in his stare.

Then I plunged the knife into his heart.

CHAPTER 31

WILLOW

Willow

He gasped a wet, ragged sound.

His brow furrowed as he peered down at the knife protruding from his ribs, angled just right to get to the fleshy organ beneath. He glanced back up at me, the hurt in his eyes drawing a strangled sob from me.

"I'm sorry," I said again, twisting the knife to take as much of his heart with me as I could.

He wheezed, sputtering beneath me. I pulled the dagger free, tossing it to the side as his blood poured free from the wound without obstruction. It pumped onto the sofa, staining the beige fabric with his life.

"Why?" he asked, his voice hoarse and rough. I couldn't bring myself to separate from him, to leave him on the sofa.

I didn't want him to be alone.

I’d needed to deceive him for this to work, so why did his question make me feel even worse? "You know why," I said, shaking my head as I stayed with him.

His blood continued to spill, his vision going unfocused. He raised a hand to my face, his palm stained with his blood. He cupped my cheek, the wetness of it smearing against my skin. "I love you," he said, the steely resolve in that voice taking me aback. There was no weakness I would have expected of a man close to death, only a firm warning wrapped in warm words.

He loved me, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t suffer for what I’d done…

I turned my gaze down to his wound, to the stain on his shirt and realized that the blood flow had stopped. My eyes flashed back to his, the calm fury in his gaze more terrifying than any outward rage could have been.

I pressed my hand to his wound in a panic, sinking my fingers into the slit in his shirt. There was no stab wound, only fresh skin covering what I'd done.

If it hadn't been for the puddle of blood staining the couch, I might have thought I had imagined it all.

I scrambled back, wincing when the movement freed him from me. He watched me go, sitting on that sofa as I stood in the living room. I didn't bother running, knowing I wouldn't get far before he sought out his revenge. I wouldn't allow anyone else to get caught up in his wrath.

Gray tucked himself back into his slacks, standing smoothly without any hint of pain. "Gray," I said, clamping my mouth shut. There was nothing I could say, nothing I could plead.

I'd tried to fucking kill him.

And I'd failed.

"Have I been that horrible to you?" he asked, approaching me slowly. Jonathan hissed and retreated beneath the couch, leaving me to my fate.

"That's not—"

"That's not what, Willow?" he asked, his anger pulsing off of him. "Why you tried to fucking kill me?"

"You used me!" I screamed, wincing when he jerked back. He'd thought we were beyond what he'd done to get us here, but I didn't think I was capable of moving past it. "And we both know you will do it again."

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