Page 102 of The Rogue's Curse

“I shouldn’t sleep,” Misha said.

“It’s happening when you’re awake, too,” Paris said. “You might as well get some rest to regain your strength. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“I guess,” he said hesitantly.

Paris left him, and he listened closely for voices in the hall. Muffled through the walls, he heard Rhys say, “She’s all right, but no magic for a while. She’s not in great shape.”

Guilt plunged another knife into his gut, and he was on the verge of getting up to find Shoshanna when Paris walked in with a loaded syringe.

“Normally I’m not a fan of the hard stuff,” Paris said. “Rhys said this should knock you out for a while. Lay down.”

Misha lay back, staring up at him. “I was supposed to save all of you from Shea.”

“You still will. You didn’t anticipate any of this.” He gently stroked Misha’s brow and said, “I’ll be here while you sleep. Nothing will hurt you.”

He nodded, closing his eyes as Paris slid the needle into the side of his neck. A sense of cold heaviness washed over him, and the world went blissfully dark.

* * *

When he woke to a soft beeping, he stared up at a familiar face. Blue eyes, and a gentle smile. He closed his eyes again, then looked again to find Paris still there. “Is this real?” he asked.

“If you were dreaming, I’d probably still say yes,” Paris said. He bent and kissed Misha’s brow. “But yes, it’s real.” He gently helped Misha sit up, then handed him a mug full of warm blood. “Drink up.”

After taking a long drink, he closed his eyes and channeled his focus. The wildness of his magic seemed to have settled since yesterday, though he still felt a sort of unsettled queasiness deep in his gut. “Did anything happen?”

“One little outburst,” Paris said. Before Misha could apologize, Paris shushed him. “It was tiny compared to what I’ve seen. Really, you should be ashamed of yourself for producing such pitiful monstrosities. I’ve seen more frightening newborn kittens.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “And Shoshanna?”

Paris’s playful smile faded slightly. “She’s all right. She wanted us to come by whenever you woke up. Are you feeling up for it?”

“Let me get a quick shower,” he said. They took a detour, and he stood under the warm spray with his eyes closed, thankful for the grogginess of the drugs that kept his mind dulled. After he washed up, he dressed in fresh clothes and followed Paris back to Shoshanna’s workroom.

The workshop still smelled of smoke and decay, like curse magic had billowed through the room and hadn’t entirely aired out. Shoshanna and Alistair were both scrubbing at the floor, cleaning up the painted lines. The lines of white paint had turned to piles of ash, leaving charred scars here and there.

Alistair glanced up at him and frowned. “Are you all right?” he asked. The tone of his voice made the question sound more suspicious than concerned.

“I’m good,” Misha said. He hesitantly approached Shoshanna, who rose to meet him. “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

She shook her head and said, “It’s all right.”

But she didn’t look entirely ‘all right.’ Her skin had a gray pallor to it, and the essence of her magic was different. It was too bright, as if the temperature had turned way up and was still blazing hot. It pulsed slightly, and it made his eyes hurt to look at her.

“Do you know what went wrong?” he asked.

She gestured to the big, plush cushions on the other side of the room, which had already been cleaned up from the malfunctioning spell. As they sat, Alistair hurried to offer his hand to his mate. Once she was seated, he shot Misha an accusatory look, then went back to scrubbing at the lines.

“I’m not entirely sure,” she said. “The bond is there, but it didn’t seem as strong as some of the others. It could be that we tried too soon. Or I might have screwed something up in my measurements.”

Paris looked like he’d been gutted. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure about anything. This is all new territory,” Shoshanna said. “There’s also the fact that Misha is a witch, too. From the minute I started the spell, your power was fighting against mine. I think the curse is tangled with your magic, since it’s a core part of who you are. When I was breaking Lucia’s curse, my first few attempts accelerated the effects of Alistair’s curse on me. I think that’s why you’re having more issues whenyou use your magic. Once my spell went active and reached full power, it was like trying to hold a live wire. And the more I fought you, the stronger you got.”

“So what do we do?” Misha asked.

She sighed, rubbing her temples slowly. “I’ve got to figure something else out. We have to figure out how to dampen your power, for sure. I’m strong, but I can’t keep my focus to break the curse while your magic is battering me,” she said. “Do you know of anything?”

He nodded. “I do. I can mix a potion called a pagos. It’s essentially a paralytic for magic.”

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