Page 23 of A Curse for True Love (Once Upon a Broken Heart)

Evangeline should never have lost her guards. She probably shouldn’t have gotten so close to the well, but she never thought someone wouldpushher. Who would have done this?

She hadn’t seen anyone, but she wondered blearily if her attacker had been one of the people that Apollo had warned her about.

She used what remained of her strength to kick toward the side of the well. She tried to grip a stone to climb out, but it was too slick and her fingers were numb. She fell back into the freezing water with a splash.

“Evangeline!” someone cried. The voice sounded male and unfamiliar. “Evangeline!”

“I’m… down… here…” she tried to call, but it came out like a whisper.

The stranger cursed.

Evangeline attempted to see up and out of the well. But she had fallen too far, and the walls were too high—all she could see was the golden bucket, lowering toward her.

“Grab it,” commanded the voice. It was the sort of voice she would have obeyed even if her life hadn’t depended on it. It wasn’t kind, but it was full of power and sharp as an arrow’s tip.

Evangeline wrapped her frozen hands around the bucket. It was more difficult than it should have been. Her fingers were so cold they could barely grip.

“Don’t let go!” demanded the voice.

Evangeline shivered violently, but she obeyed. She closed her eyes as she held on to the bucket while the stranger worked the rope, lifting her from the water and up, up, up toward the top. Her wet chemise clung to her skin. Then there were arms—powerful, solid arms—wrapping around her waist.

“You can let go of the bucket now.” He yanked her a little roughly, pulling her from the well.

Evangeline continued to shake, but her rescuer held on to her like a promise he intended to keep. His arms encircled her waist, keeping her close to his chest. She could feel his chest.Pounding. Pounding. Pounding.

She felt a strange, possibly delirious need to reassure him. “I’m fine.”

He laughed, the sound a little raspy, broken. “If this is fine, I’d hate to see your definition of half dead.”

“I’m just cold.” She shivered against him as she craned her neck to see his face. Wet hair covered her eyes and rain obscured her vision. But when she finally glimpsed her rescuer, the world was suddenly brighter.

He was beautiful. Inhuman. A warrior angel with blue eyes and golden hair and a face that made Evangeline think that writing poetry should be her new hobby. He almost appeared to be glowing. It made her wonder if he was right, if maybe she really was half dead and he was the angel taking her to heaven.

“I’m not taking you to heaven,” he muttered as he hauled her farther away from the well. His heart was still pounding against her.

Then her world was spinning. The rain whipped around her like a cyclone, blurring the garden and her golden angel until she was somewhere else—she was inside a memory that looked like a soft candlelit corridor.

He held her so tightly it hurt, but this pain she didn’t mind. She’d let him crush her, let him break her, just as long as he never let her go. This was what she wanted, and she refused to believe that he didn’t want it, too.

She could feel his heart pound against her chest as he carried her into the room next door to hers. It was a mess. There were apples andcores all over the desk. The sheets on the bed were thrashed. The fire was burning more than just logs.

The memory was so real Evangeline almost felt warm from the fire.

Until, just as suddenly as she was plunged into the memory, she was taken out of it by the feeling of hard wet ground beneath her, followed by the gruff sound of voices.

“What happened?”

“Who did this?”

The rain-drenched faces of two unfamiliar guards hovered over her. Water dripped from their mustaches to the ground.

She looked past them for signs of the golden-haired angel who had pulled her from the well, but there was no one else there.

All the blankets and the fires in Wolf Hall couldn’t ward off Evangeline’s chills. The cold had seeped into her bones and her veins.

After Evangeline had been carried into her room, her maids quickly helped her out of her soaking slip. There was some debate after that as to if they should put her in a hot bath, but Evangeline had feared just the thought of being submerged in more water. She’d opted for a soft robe and the bed.

But now, as she lay there shivering, she wondered if that was a mistake.

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