Page 94 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
“Will it hurt them?” the researcher asked the ledgermaster once the rest of the group had gone.
“It shouldn’t,” the ledgermaster replied, dragging a fingernail down the page of the magical book to which Noble’s Oath was bound. When the ledgermaster spoke next, it was in the language of the arcane, arhythmic chant that would unravel the magic that had woven the Order of the Morta together and tie off the threads that could not be severed completely.
Noble’s head began to pound with the rhythm of those words, an odd tearing sensation pulling through his chest like an overextended muscle. Itdidhurt. It felt like the very fabric of his soul was being shredded apart. The monster inside him began to thrash.
“RAAAAA!” he screamed again, shaking in his constraints.
Other test subjects in the dungeon answered his call, pounding on their bars and shrieking. Their agonized cries were proof that the unbinding of the Order of the Morta pained them, too. As magic seared through Noble’s veins, he wondered if his cursed brethren in the Western Wood felt this; he wondered what it would do to them.
As the ledgermaster worked, the remaining researcher watched on in silence, her brown eyes trained on Noble, wobbling with tears. Her pity made him feel small. It made him think about all the ways he’d let his loved ones down.
The ledgermaster’s chant became faster, more forceful. Noble’s heart slammed against his chest like a prisoner trying to break through a locked door.Thump, thump, thump. Noble screamed again as pain lanced through his temples.
Thump, thump, thump.
Thump, thump, thump.
Noble woke with a snarl.
His room at the Royal Inn of Fenrir was dark. The moon was high, shining blueish light through his window. Midnight. His naked body was slicked with sweat, heart frantic, breaths coming quick. It’d been a long time since his nightmares coalesced into true memory—in fact, he hadn’t dreamt of the research dungeon since before he’d traveled to Waldron.
Forcing a long sigh through his lungs, Noble rubbed his forehead. In his sleep, he’d kicked off the blankets. The heat of his panic was beginning to cool. His heart rate was dropping back to normal. He was alright.
So why did he still hear thumping?
Thump, thump, thump.
Thump, thump, thump.
Noble sat up, frowning. The thumping wasn’t his head or heart, it was coming from a fist on wood.
Someone was knocking on his door.
Over the past few months, Noble had encountered plenty of drunk travelers in the halls of the Royal Inn of Fenrir. Yelling, banging, cries of pleasure. It was hard enough getting a good night’s rest in his own mind, let alone the annoyances of other guests.
This thumping was making his head ache anew. Irritation rose. Noble flung himself out of bed and stomped to the door. With a quick twist of the knob, he yanked the door open, ready to confront the person inconsiderately waking him in the middle of the night.
His anger dissolved at the sight of her.
Hattie, on his threshold, all flushed cheeks and messy hair.
She paused with her fist in the air, eyes widening. Her attention dropped to his groin, then darted quickly back up to his face, her flush deepening from mauve to crimson. She cleared her throat, her forehead creasing as if it took great effort not to look down again.
Caught up in his irritation—with his mind still hazy from troubled sleep—Noble had forgotten to cover himself before answering the door. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to move, not when Hattie’s flush was now creeping down her neck to color her chest. She stared up at him with those oceanic eyes, and Noble felt as if he were caught in a net as she slid her tongue along her bottom lip, then bit down with visible restraint.
Sheknewhe was a monster, and still, she was here. Blushing.
His head couldn’t make sense of it, but his heart and groin didn’t care. Desire hit him with a force.
He smirked like he wasn’t clay in her hands, hers to shape. “May I help you?”
His voice seemed to break the spell between them.
Hattie held out a hand, blocking her view of his cock. Her gaze flew to crown molding. “Whyare you naked?” Her voice was shrill, agonized.
Noble chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
“Noble,” Hattie said to the ceiling.
