Page 10 of The Prince's Curse

Good wine and a lonely few nights had made Scarlett bold enough to ask the handsome man to dance. And with the taste of him on her lips, she was pleased to do more than move to the music. His modest clothing masked the fine musculature of his frame, downplayed the rounded curves of broad shoulders. But now, the sweeping lines of muscle across his hips drew her eyes down and down as he shed his trousers.

In the light, she saw those lovely sharp teeth. They didn’t frighten her. She knew of the night creatures, had ever since she was a girl and her mother explained why she was faster and stronger than the other children. And so she welcomed him, drawing him down by his hand to lie with her on the soft, lavender-and-cedar-scented quilt.

She remembered him somehow. Though she didn’t know his name, her body recognized him, invited him inside as he spread her thighs, gazing down at her like she was his personal feast for a high holy day. Warm lips blazed across the sensitive skin there, and then his tongue laved her, those sharp teeth grazing now and again as he teased and tormented with the sweetest, unrelenting pleasure.

Her giggles were still echoing from the rough-hewn walls when he buried himself in her, groaning in pleasure as their bodies met. And she knew him, knew every inch of him, had always known him. It was as if her body had been made for him. Without seeing, her fingers slid up his back to a twisted scar, tracing the edges of that familiar landmark as he plunged into her.

“Brigitte,” he murmured into her ear. “I love you. Come to me. Come home. Come back to me.”

“I’m right here,” she whispered between gasps.

“Come home,” he said again.

His head lifted suddenly, and his pretty green eyes had gone devilish, void-black. She shrieked, and the world splintered. Those lovely hands that had so gently caressed her now gripped her throat, throttling her as she begged him to let go.

A hand struck her across the face, then again. Cold air whipped around her, and she sat bolt upright to see Tante Mina standing at the end of her bed, arms outstretched. She spoke rapidly, and the room itself vibrated with the power of her voice. Searing red marks licked up the witch’s thin arms and across her chest.

“Tante Mina?” she asked hesitantly. God, had she seen? Had she been moaning and panting in her sleep? Scarlett was relieved to see that she at least still had her clothes on despite the dream of?—

Julian.

Oh God. Now that she was fully awake, she realized that she’d been having quite a lovely sex dream about the man she planned to kill, the one who had left her orphaned. She might have been sick if she wasn’t so worried about her aunt, who was swaying on her feet.

Scarlett rose, but Mina put out a hand and sheer force pushed her back into her bed. “Almost got the little bitch,” the older woman hissed before crumpling into a heap, her breathing sharp and ragged.

The force holding Scarlett back fell away, and she scrambled out of bed. Panic swept through her as she knelt and examined her aunt’s face. Her fine features were too sharp, the shadows more prominent around her dark eyes. “Tante Mina,” she said quietly, gently jostling the woman’s shoulder.

Her aunt stirred and smiled up at her. ““Are you all right, my sweet girl?”

“I’m fine,” Scarlett breathed. “What was that?”

“The vampire witch attacked you,” Mina said. She tried to sit up, then winced and fell back. There were still angry red lines on her chest, licking up her neck as if her skin had split open along the veins.

An unusual scent lingered in the air; not the usual dark smell that clung to her aunt, but the unmistakable, welcoming aroma of vanilla.She found herself looking for the source until her aunt coughed roughly.

Snapping back to reality, Scarlett scooped up her aunt, fretting at how light she felt.

“I’m all right, dear,” the witch said.

But Scarlett ignored her protests and carried her outside. Deep, quiet darkness hung over their home, what her aunt called the witching hour. Wet footprints stretched across the lawn from the main house to her cottage. She followed their trail back, shouting, “Lux! Stella!”

“Don’t wake them all. I’m fine,” Mina scolded.

“You’re sick,” Scarlett said. When she reached the house, the back doors were already swinging open. But her mouth went dry at the sight of Carrigan Shea’s silhouette filling the open doorway. He had healed considerably, his brawny frame far more intimidating now that he wasn’t bristling with broken concrete and shards of glass. Bindings glowed on his wrists as he stood aside for Scarlett to pass, but she felt the weight of his gaze on her.

She didn’t trust him. Kova was different; she’d known him her whole life. But this vampire smelled off, and he looked at her like she was prey, not a friend.

By the time she reached the stairs leading up to Mina’s room, Stella was hurrying down the hall, a short bathrobe fluttering around her legs. The apprentice was maybe Scarlett’s age, with a petite frame and dark hair in a messy bun. Her warm brown eyes widened in concern. “What happened?”

“The witch attacked her in her dreams,” Mina said. She met Stella’s eyes, nodded, then reached slowly for her bed as Scarlett eased her small frame down slowly. Scarlett stood back and stared at her aunt with fear creeping up her spine.

“Ms. Voss…do you need some water? Something to eat?” Stella asked.

Mina nodded. “Stella, dear, get me some tea with a restorative. You know the one I like. I’ll be fine after I catch my breath.”

“Scarlett?” Stella asked.

“Huh?”

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