Page 17 of The Prince's Curse

Focus, he told himself.

A blur of movement caught his eye as Shoshanna threw up her hands, which glowed with strange, lacelike markings. Liquid fire spiraled out of her palms and speared through him like bullets. The impact knocked him back, and he felt the vague shift of something inside him, of blood pouring down his back. Thanks to the curse, he felt no pain, but he was keenly aware that he couldn’t go on like this indefinitely, especially if she severed his spinal cord.

She sprang to her feet and ran into the kitchen. Drawers rattled as she cursed under her breath.

As he got to the kitchen island, thunder cracked, and a bullet ripped through his shoulder, then another into his chest. His left hand went limp, and he imagined she must have exploded through a nerve. “Fuck!” he swore. He felt no pain, but his frustration flared like hot blood between his lips.He reached for her with his good hand.

“Kova, stop it!” she screamed. “You don’t understand!”

He faltered. She knew his name?

He feinted right, and she swung toward him. The witch was clever and powerful, but she was still human, and therefore painfully slow. By the time she shifted her weight again, he was on her. Sliding across the counter, he caught her bythe hair and yanked her back against him. She screamed, both hands finding his. “It’ll be quick. I promise. I’m so sorry.”

Heat licked against his skin, but instead of burning him, her power seemed to push into him, shoving its way up his arms, into his chest, up his spine, and blooming in his head like smoke. Chimes rang, and he felt as if he was standing inside a church bell as it echoed its morning call.

And then he saw her in the darkness of his mind, the prettiest dream he could conjure.

Lucia. Blonde hair falling in soft waves around her face, running toward him across cobblestone streets. “My Kova!” she cried.

He tried to wrench away, suddenly aware that the witch was in his head. Her vanilla-sage scent crammed itself up his nose, overpowering him.“Stop it!” he shouted as she pried at his hands.

One twist of his arms and she would be dead instantly. Just one little flick.

He didn’t.

He hesitated.

Why was he fucking hesitating?

“Kova, listen to me,” she said, her voice shaking with every word. “Lucia is alive.”

“You lie,” he seethed, fingers twitching, ready to break her fragile little neck.

“Listen to me. She was a stone statue, and I broke the curse on her months ago,” she protested, trying to turn her body with him to spare her neck. “Please just let me go. I’ll get her on the phone right now. You don’t have to do this.”

Just kill her. Don’t let her get in your head.

“I don’t know if you know this, but Lucia is your soulmate,” the witch said. Her heart pounded so hard it echoed back into his chest, as if it was his own. “She’s bonded to you by magic, and she turned into stone because you were cursed and Armina made it so your soulmate would be affected. It happened to me with Alistair. It happened to your brother, Sasha, too.”

At that, he jolted. “Soulmate?”

“I swear. I know Armina is controlling you somehow, and I don’t think you want to kill me,” she said.

Keeping one hand on her thin wrist, he whirled her around, still holding his gun with his free hand.

Her big brown eyes searched him. Tears streaked her cheeks, but she still stared at him, her gaze intense. “Did you kill Alistair? I still feel him.”

He shook his head. “He’s incapacitated. I…I wanted to give him the choice when you were gone.”

“Okay,” she said calmly. “I appreciate you not killing my soulmate.”

His whole body trembled as he stared down at her. Any chance of seeing her as a faceless target was gone. Now he took her in; the warm brown eyes, the dark curls mussed around her face from the struggle, the scorched marks on her skin from her own magic. And he hated himself more than he thought possible; if someone had touched Lucia like this, he would have killed them.

Despite everything, she smiled at him and said, “Please put your gun down. I want to help you. Okay?”

“You promise you know where she is? And she’s not cursed?” he dared to ask.

“I promise,” she said. “Just put the gun down.”

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