Page 115 of The Prince's Curse

She reached for him, left hand to his heart, and something shot through her like lightning. The world went white, her ears filled with the sound of cathedral bells. And as the pleasure swept through her, a storm of memory followed.

She saw him weeping over her. Saw him smiling from across a crowd. Saw him screaming at the sky with blood on his hands. Saw him at the end of a long aisle with a smile on his face. Saw him raising a glass with his brothers. Saw him rising from the bath. Saw him falling to his knees as he offered his life. Saw him begging her to stay as the world faded away.

The room spun, and she was still trying to make sense of it when he let out a clipped cry, hips jerking as he climaxed. She held him tight, fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders.

Don’t go.

She felt as if the world would break if he moved. He slowly lifted his head, kissed her brow, then looked down at her, his gaze tender. “Are you all right?”

Her voice trembled. “I remember things,” she said. His expression shifted. “I remember you. From before. I don’t know how.”

His eyes widened, and he started to withdraw, but she grabbed his shoulders.

“Stay. I need you close right now,” she said.

He nodded, stroking her cheek gently. “What do you remember?”

“You smiling. And…not smiling. I see you broken. It must have been when I— when she died,” she said, heart pounding. Then she raised her hand to toy with a loose curl of his hair. “I know you. Some part of me knows you completely.”

He caught her wrist, kissing the underside lightly. The faint suction against her wrist made her heart thump, the tiniest thread of fear twisting through her. His eyes lifted to her, and he smiled.

“Are you debating whether to bite me?” she asked.

At that, he laughed, released her wrist, then leaned in to kiss her throat.“I never bit you before. You used to offer, but it’s not the same.” His head lifted, and his eyes were solemn. “I like feeling your pulse. I feel connected to you.”

There were volumes in what he did not say. Instead of questioning, she took his hand and placed it over her breast, above her pounding heart. His eyes found hers, and then he closed his eyes as if he’d been struck.

Her brow furrowed. “Did you do this with anyone since we were together before?” Then her cheeks heated. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business, I was just?—”

“No,” he said calmly. “I swore myself to you. To Brigitte. And I meant it.”

“You must have been so lonely,” she said.

He nodded and averted his gaze. With a shift of that powerful upper body, he slid out of her, leaving her pleasantly achy. But instead of abandoning her, he slid into bed and wrapped his arms around her. Her left hand went to his heart, but he took it instead, toying lightly with her ring finger as if he was twisting a ring.

“Do you feel something?” he asked.

She nodded. “I felt it before.”

“That’s our bond,” he said. “Shoshanna talks about it all the time.”

When his strong fingers pressed her knuckle, she felt a jolt of sensation through her arm, and another flood of memories washed over her. Lying under a heavy quilt, snuggled up to a man who looked like Julian before the world had laid its burdens on his shoulders, walking her fingers over his broad chest. Reddish-stained wooden rafters vaulted above them, their cherry surface dancing with firelight that staved off winter’s chill.

And right on its heels, she felt the icy bite of a blade in her heart, a wet sensation crawling up her throat as she bled out. staring at the narrow bars of an alley, hearing his voice as she faded away.

She gasped and pulled her hand from his. He startled. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. I just see things when we’re touching that way,” she said.

He started to pull away. “Should I give you space?”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him back, prompting a little laugh. “I didn’t say that. Maybe we just avoid pulling on the red thread that supposedly binds us together across time and space and what, seven reincarnations?”

He laughed. “You’re awfully upbeat about all this.”

“I can either laugh or have an existential meltdown, and I did the second one already,” she said drily.

He shifted onto his side, stroking her hair gently. His eyes were still red, but she liked the warmth and vibrancy there; it made her think of the rich red of a ripe apple, of a glowing ruby. Something precious and alive, not death and destruction.

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