Page 33 of The Cursed and the Broken
I might have lost myself in that moment. Rage still coursing through me, desire tearing through my blood. I was a careless, foolish creature, allowing the heat of my emotions to cloud my judgement.
Sensing my hesitation, he pulled back, tucking a stand of hair behind my ear as he gazed upon my face.
“I can’t do this,” I breathed, shoving him away. Already I missed his warmth around me, my body still pulsing with desire.
He tilted my chin up, commanding my attention. “You can do whatever you please, Freckles. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
I snorted with frustration. “I can’t do this”—I gestured between us—“whatever this is. I’m promised to another. If anyone saw us, my reputation would be ruined, my family’s name dishonoured. The marriage would be annulled.”
His teeth scraped my earlobe before he placed burning hot kisses down my neck, thumbs scraping my decolletage. I sucked in a breath, trying in vain not to sink into his touch. Never had I unravelled so quickly. His touch was sin, his kiss treacherous.
“Actually,” he purred, still kissing my neckline. “You’ve done nothing wrong, save for being unchaperoned with your intended.” He looked down his nose at me. “If that’s something you’re afraid of your little elders seeing.”
I blinked, his words dousing the pleasure vibrating through my body. A cold gust of air seemed to slam into my stomach. My mouth dried out and I licked my lips, staring at him incredulously.
“What did you say?” My voice was sharp as knives, low and dangerous. A feline smile curved his face as he let go, leaning once more against a tree. I ran a hand through my hair, pacing back and forth. “Is this a joke?”
“Actually …”
My punch silenced him, pummelling into his rock-hard stomach before his stupid mouth could spout anything further. Instead of shock I found a wide grin on his face, a new kind of intrigue twinkling in his dark eyes. Was this all some joke to him? I felt played, toyed with like a cat’s dinner. He wasn’t concerned for me. He was damned well playing his own game.
“You,” I snarled. “You knew who I was this whole time? Why didn’t you tell me? You lied.”
“Technically,” he said with a raised finger, “I simply omitted the truth. I wanted to get to know you without the shadow of this marriage impacting your behaviour. And I must say, I’m intrigued by what I’ve seen so far.”
“You can shove your technicalities up your ass. I hope you choke on them.” Anger roiled through me, the dark magic I inherited rising to my skin once again, the misty red now pluming around my body like a cape. He had the audacity to grin even further, not just one, but two dimples winking at me in encouragement. He was enjoying this, I realised. The insolent bastard.
“I know you’re angry,” he said, as if to a cornered animal. I couldn’t blame him, I suppose. I was ready to tear his head off. “But even you can’t deny I wouldn’t have seen the real you had we not met before tonight’s meeting.”
“Perhaps not,” I said grudgingly. “But it doesn’t excuse your behaviour, past and present. You should have told me when we first met in the woods, not to mention you were fooling around with another girl, who is now dead.” A wave of guilt roiled through me, followed by a sharp stab of jealousy, which angered me even more. Stupid, traitorous body. My nostrils flared as I looked at his spiteful, idiotic smirk. “Istilldon’t know your name!”
“Say please,” he crooned.
I wanted to rip that fucking grin off his face. Instead I crossed my arms, glaring daggers at that stupidly handsome smile.
He chuckled. “I suppose I owe you that much. Dante Sándor, son of Farkas Sándor and heir to the Wolfblood Clan.” He bowed low, perusing me with far too keen an eye than he had a right to.
“Well, Dante,” I said coolly, stepping so close my lips were but an inch from his own. I felt his eyes dip hungrily, his mouth parting on a breath. I turned, pressing myself against his pants, guiding his hands to my breasts. His arousal met my ass and I smirked, having achieved my goal. “I hope you’re not looking forward to an amorous marriage, because I’m going to make your life a living hell.”
I stalked away, leaving my husband-to-be alone under the starlit sky. Before I was out of reach, I heard his whisper on the breeze.
“I can’t wait.”
FOURTEEN
I sat cross-legged onmy bed, Laszlo’s head in my lap as I went over the night’s events. He looked so peaceful as I stroked his velvet ears. Utterly oblivious to my problems. What I wouldn’t do to feel such calm right now.
“What am I going to do, Laszlo?” I sighed, leaning back against my pillows. He cracked one eye open in answer, blinking lazily at me before dozing off again, soft, muffled snores sounding rhythmically.
In the space of a month my world had spiralled into a nightmare. Our haven was under threat of attack, our witches vulnerable to cultists wanting to spill their blood?or consume it. Tonight was … it was too much. My mother had lied to me. Keeping me in the dark about my true heritage and power. She was one of two people in my small world I had always been able to rely on and trust.
Betrayalhurt. Twisting like a knife in my heart, bruising my shoulders as reality hit hard and fast. I had never felt so alone, never felt sorrow so keenly. Tears filled my eyes again as I considered how my upbringing had been shrouded in lies. My very existence birthed from monstrosity.
A shiver rolled down my spine. My ancestral line dated back to Sylvie Morici. The Dark Queen of destruction and terror. A heretic who blasphemed the gifts from our gods, who corrupted pure magic, turning it dark and devilish.
My mother was a cultist. Revulsion coiled in my stomach at the thought, but even knowing what she was, I still felt the sting of abandonment. She hadn’t wanted me, leaving me as a baby for Nora to find instead. Why? Was it a way to protect me from the cultists or the act of carelessness? I sighed as I combed through my wet tangles. Even a fanatic had discarded me. It was no wonder I wasn’t good enough for anyone in this town. Indifference seemed to run in my blood.
My thoughts turned to Dante. I was still furious about his lies but, frustratingly, I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. Passionate and devouring. Was I imagining the fervent way he’d returned it? Why was I imagining it at all!?We hate him, Kitarni, I reminded myself. Sighing, I pressed my knuckles to my eyes. The thought of him filled me with confusion and annoyance. A good kisser he may be, but he was still an insolent ass.
