Page 55 of Cursed to Be Mine
“Give me the key to room 241.”
He pulls out a resealable bag full of labeled packets of hair. “We’ve collected –” He stops as I stride towards him, his brows snapping together as he muses over what I said.
But I didn’t fucking stutter. A small smile curls my lipsas I stop at the counter. “Give me the key, Xander,” I say softly, “or it will be your hair we leave at the next crime scene.”
His eyes widen briefly. Then he drops his arm holding the bag of hair the cleaning crew here collected for the Family’s use. Business owners, visiting CEOs, politicians, and even celebrities that stay in the penthouse at the top – they’re all in there. All for us to blackmail or hurt with my magic. Manipulating the soul like I did with Cid’s requires a piece of that person’s physical body. This is how we collect most of them.
We have hotels all over our territory, which spreads up half the eastern coast, and each one collects hair left in the drains and on the pillows, the nails on the floor, the semen on the sheets.
But I don’t care about any of that right now. I just want the fucking key so I don’t freak out my girl by suddenly appearing in her room.
Xander spins on his heels, his arm reaching out before he’s turned all the way, muscle memory guiding him to the key I want.
He doesn’t ask me why I need it or why I’m here before the sun’s risen as he hands it over. He’s a good little soldier. Loyal and smart enough not to be any nosier than he’s paid to be.
“Maddox will collect in the morning,” I say over my shoulder on the way to the stairs, meaning for the bag of hair and other bits. I yank open the door and run up them three at a time.
On the second floor, I head left, towards the rooms 231-260. A door opens further down the hall, and my eyes narrow on the angry-faced man stepping out. He stomps over to his neighbor’s room and raises a heavy-handed fist.241.
“Knock and lose your hand,” I say without the slightest rise to my voice. I’m not far from him now, and my power pulses restlessly beneath my skin, latching onto his puny form, poised to take his hand.
“What the fuck did you sa–” He stops abruptly as he swings towards me. His face pales as he meets my gaze. A smile graces my lips.
He cowers against the wall, his bulk hitting it with athud. He reaches behind him, grasping for his door as I stop in front of 241.
“Go check out,” I order without looking at him. His lips spew spittle and fear as he mumbles something about having an early appointment anyway. Yanking open his door, he falls inside his room. The door slams shut.
I tap gently on 241. Despite the key in my hand, I don’t want to use it unless I have to. She’s on edge tonight, and me suddenly appearing in her room will most likely send her over.
“Scarlett?” I call out as silence burrows into the space between us. I know she’s awake, the pain and rage rolling off her too strong for her to be asleep.
“Khalid?” My name is muffled but coming closer, and I slip the key into my pocket.
The door parts, and she’s standing in front of me with a towel wrapped around her head. Damp patches darken her shirt where it clings to her skin, and in my peripherals I notice the two large circles around her nipples. She isn’t wearing a bra, and the urge to fill my palms with the beautiful weight of her has me digging my fingers into my thighs.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice a little broken. She stands to the side of the door, already half inviting me in, a desperate need not to be alone clear in her eyes.
The urge to pull her into my arms makes me take a step forward. “I saw you drive off earlier,” I say softly. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”
Her eyes are red and raw, and she glances away briefly. “I’m fine,” she mutters.
Cupping her cheek, I tilt her chin up. Wide eyes fly back to mine as she shuffles back. “What are you…what…”
I brush my thumb across her lips. She swallows, and the working of her throat brings my gaze to the angry bruises marking her skin.
My girl.
With another man’s fucking mark on her.
The fingers of my other hand dig into my thigh, but the ones on her face stay gentle. I will never hurt her, even in my own rage.
“You don’t look fine,” I say, my eyes purposely on her neck.
I kick the door shut behind me as I guide her further into the room.
“It’s...nothing,” she lies, and my gaze finds hers in the low light of the sun just now peeking through the blinds.
“Who did this?” I ask as if I don’t already know. As if I haven’t already taken him out like the garbage he was.
