Page 32 of The Cursed and the Broken
Before I knew it, I had crossed the treeline, finding myself surrounded by stalwart trees. Silent and steadfast. Their trunks blanketed the music in the distance and I slowed to a walk, eventually finding myself in the clearing.
Was it just yesterday I had been here, blades flashing and blood spilling? The earth was stained with scarlet, the only sign of a brawl now that the bodies had been taken away and burned. We always burned our dead and blessed them for their journey to the beyond, to the land of milk and honey the gods watched over. The cultists would have had no such service or ceremony. Erika must have seen to it last night.
May they rot in hell.
I should have been appalled, should have turned away from this place, now tainted with darkness. But instead I felt numb. Empty. Flopping to the ground, I lay on my back, staring up at the sea of stars above. It was a cloudless night and those jewels sparkled upon black velvet.
Boots sounded on the forest floor, loud and deliberate, and I knew who it was without looking. “Do I need to put a fucking bell on you?” I snapped.
He chuckled softly, stepping into the moonlight but, upon seeing my tear-streaked face, he halted, his eyes flashing with an emotion I couldn’t place. “Rough night?”
I sighed, feeling too emotionally spent to battle with him right now. “You have no idea.”
Leaning against a nearby tree, he surveyed me at length. “I might have an inkling.”
Groaning, I twisted to my side, noting his gaze dance over my bare legs. I could have sworn his eyes flashed gold. Hungry. “Does the whole village know, then?”
“About your heritage? No. But your mother is looking for you. And his lordship.”
Rising, I stepped towards the táltos, cocking my head. “And you came to collect like a loyal little messenger?”
His grin was devilish. “I come here of my own volition. I heard them talking, saw you sprint through the town like a hellhound. I wanted to see if you were all right.”
Frowning, I took a step closer to him. “As if you give a shit. Will your master give his loyal dog a bone if you deliver me to him?”
He smirked, but he said nothing. I wanted him to bait me, to send my blood boiling so I’d have an excuse to start a war. He only raised his brow, as if he could tell what I was thinking.
I sighed, levelling him with a stony stare. “I just found out I’m descended from a psychopath, I’m most likely going to be hunted by cultists, and I’m also supposed to meet my betrothed tonight. So, yeah, I’m fucking overjoyed.”
“There goes that dirty mouth again,” he purred.
I growled, raking my hands through my hair before storming over and prodding a finger at his muscly chest. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Why are you stalking me?”
“Believe it or not, little hellcat, but I don’t find much pleasure in tormenting people. Well,” he amended, “not when they’re already down. It takes the fun out of it.” He smiled slyly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
My skin heated, the power inside me building. Misty red began to swirl around my fists, and I opened my mouth to shoot a string of curses at him, but he went on, undeterred.
“I know what it is to feel lonely. To feel trapped, caged by the will of others, never free to make choices of your own. But it could be different for you, Freckles. You could run away now, elude your prison before the chains bind you and the cultists come to destroy all you hold dear.”
His honesty made the magic fizzle from my fingers. I gaped at him in surprise, staring into his dark eyes, searching for the trap. I found nothing untoward in the seriousness of his posture.
“What are you saying? You want me to forget my duty? Steal off in the night like a coward?” I scoffed. “I will not abandon my family, and I certainly will not leave my kith to fight the threat of these cultists on their own.”
His brow creased. “I’m not suggesting you run away. I’m saying I want you to make your own choices. While you still can.”
Why was he being nice to me? It was unnerving and I almost wished he’d say something snarky so I could snap back. Him seeing me like this, it made me feel vulnerable. Weak. Like any moment he could ensnare me while my guard was down.
I searched his brown eyes, emotions flashing one by one in those orbs. A fierceness colliding with fear and, deeper still,want. My blood warmed at that expression, something hot and heavy jolting through my core.
I saw myself reflected in the golden rings—wild eyes, tearstained cheeks. My skin tingled at his nearness and, damn it, I did want to do something for myself. Something wild and reckless and utterlystupid.
And before I knew what I was doing, my lips crashed into his own, bruising in my need. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. His arms wrapped around me, his lips answering my kiss with equal fervour.
He pressed me to his chest and swept his tongue across my lip before I opened for him. Our tongues searched each other’s, hungry for more and I fell into that bliss. His touch was fire to my skin, his kiss hot and heavy and all-consuming. I had kissed boys before but this? He devoured me, claiming my lips for his own and I answered with angry, passionate kisses. I drowned my rage, my sorrow, in this moment. My body sparked with desire, my core clenching as waves of pleasure swept downwards, erasing the thought of anything but this. Anything but us.
He groaned as I bit his lip and fisted my hand in his hair, tugging his head back. Not a lover’s gentle touch, but that of a woman who burned with anger.
One of his hands stroked my spine, the other curling round to my breast, his palm sliding between my bare skin and the dress. I gasped at the feel of his calloused hand and, even as my breasts begged for his touch, he didn’t dare tread any further.
