Page 57 of Cursed Beasts

“Our average life span is about one hundred and seventy-five years,” he said, laying my hand on my lap before he looked at my nose.

“Wow, that’s impressive,” I said, remembering that regular wolves only lived just past a hundred years.

“It’s impressive when you have someone to share your life with, but when you’re lonely or you haven’t found your mate, it feels like a lifetime.” Sadness had seeped back into his voice.

I laid my good hand on his arm that had solidified, giving him a small smile.

“I can’t wait for the day I get back to her and we get to spend our afterlife together. I’m ready to go home to her,” he said, looking more tired.

“You will. Hopefully sooner rather than later,” I said, adding one more reason to my list of why I had to break the spell. Mr. Potter needed to go home to his mate, and they could enjoy each other in the afterlife.

“Well, you seem to be doing good,” he said, closing his bag. “I left the sling off so you could shower. I’ll come back in an hour so I can put it back on. I would wear something loose, nothing too tight. Here are a few options for you.”

“Thank you, I desperately need a shower,” I said, swinging my legs over the bed to get up.

“Let me know if you feel any sharp pain or light-headedness in the shower. Just yell for me.” He smiled before he disappeared.

I stood up, worried my legs were going to give out, but once I stayed upright, my legs felt strong enough to walk slowly to the bathroom. I took a lantern with me into the bathroom. This bathroom was opulent and gorgeous.

These rooms were like night and day, making me angry again. I couldn’t believe those assholes had given me a shit room.

The bath was phenomenal, and whatever Mr. Potter put inside the water was heavenly. My muscles were relaxed, my mind was at ease and my pain was almost nonexistent.

Washing my hair and getting out of the bath was a little harder than I expected, but I just moved very slowly. The towel was warm when I grabbed it, realizing again that Mr. Potter didn’t leave any details untouched.

That man was probably the world’s greatest mate, and I was envious of her. What I wouldn’t give for a man to give me a fraction of the caring attention he gave this house.

Carefully drying myself off, I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror that was leaning against the wall. My body had bruises peppered all along my ribs and my shoulder. My face looked like someone had punched me with one eye looking pretty bad. Touching my nose as softly as I could I realized it was swollen but looked mostly straight. Most of the cuts on my body looked superficial but some on my side felt deep.

I wrapped a towel around myself when I heard a knock at the door.

“Yeah,” I called out to Mr. Potter as I walked into the room to grab my clothes.

The door opened, and I quickly turned, realizing it wasn’t Mr. Potter. Lucien walked into the room not noticing I was just in a towel. He looked hot in just a pair of pants that fit him a little snug with his bare chest on display.

When he finally spotted me, his eyes grew wide, but he didn’t turn away. He looked me up and down with heat in his gaze.

“Uh, I was just going to change,” I said, before I went back into the bathroom, shutting the door.

My heart was pounding as I leaned against the door. I gave myself a few seconds before I changed, wondering if he was still out there. The tank top was harder to get on, but I managed without too much pain.

What took me the longest was to get the nerve to walk out of the bathroom to face Lucien. I had been trying to talk to him for almost a week, but now that he was here, I was shy. It definitely wasn’t because he held me last night. His warm body felt comforting. He whispered reassuring words, and being in his arms felt like I was supposed to be there.

I was beginning to feel like I had Stockholm Syndrome, except they didn’t capture me. They just did mean things to me, but I still felt bad for them and—

No. I wasn’t going to go there. I exited the bathroom before my mind fucked with me more.

Lucien was still in my room, leaning against the wall with his arms across his chest, looking down until I walked into the room.

Why did seeing him always give me butterflies? Why did they all have to be so good looking? It would be much easier if I wasn’t attracted to them.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, running his hand through his hair, looking nervous.

“Better,” I said, walking to the bed.

He pushed off the wall, walking towards me silently.

“Mr. Potter said you needed help with your sling, and he sent me to give you this,” he said, pulling a few vials from his pocket.

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