Page 58 of The Prince's Curse

“I know, it’s so strange, and?—”

“Not in the sense of it being magic that we don’t understand. That woman…Brigitte. She was born in a different time. She had a different life. And she’s gone. You understand that, don’t you?” Her eyes lifted to him, that curious emerald green that made him think of sunshine on spring leaves.

“I do,” he finally said, even as his heart ached.

“I’m not her. I believe that I’m connected to her somehow, and when you see me, you see something you had a long time ago. But I don’t want you to be disappointed that I’m not her,” she said. “I don’t remember any of the things you all remember, because I wasn’t there.”

He smiled, though her words were a thousand tiny cuts against his soul. He knew that, didn’t he? He knew Brigitte was long gone. Doing his best to speak calmly, he said,“I told you that I don’t expect anything from you. Your life is what it is. I only want to make sure you have a chance to see thirty.”

And God, what a lie that was. He wanted to see her live, and then he wanted her. It didn’t matter if she was different; he would be glad to get to know her and learn how she had been molded and shaped by this new life.He wanted to love her, wanted to feel the warmth of her love, to have a second chance to be with her, to be a husband to a wife, to make a home and a sanctuary and fill it with love and security until it was overflowing. And yes, he wanted to make love to her, to hear the way she sang out his name and laughed and sighed as she laid across his chest with her heart pounding and her body so relaxed she molded right to him.He would gladly be king if she was his queen.

She shifted suddenly, taking his hand and folding it between hers. “Look at me,” she said, and he obeyed, turning to sit facing her. “I’m not always good with emotions. And I don’t know what to say to you, or how I feel about all of this. But…I don’t hate you.”

“It’s that easy to turn it off?”

She shook her head. “Some part of me hates the man that killed my family. I haven’t quite wrapped my head around it yet, but I know that person isn’t you.And if all this is real, then I’m grateful that you care enough to take the risk to help me.”

And before he could respond, she lifted her hand to caress his cheek. The light touch awakened the searing sting of the witch’s magic, but it was worth it. “I should have asked before. Are you all right after dealing with Shea?” she asked. “He’s very powerful.”

He nodded, careful not to move away from her touch, those fingers like water in a drought. “I’m fine,” he said.

“You’re pretty strong,” she said appreciatively.

“I’m pretty old,” he countered, prompting a sweet smile.

She nodded. “What was she like? Brigitte?”

His head cocked, and a thousand things came to mind. “She was kind. Mischievous, but never cruel. She was compassionate, but not soft, if that makes sense. Very funny. Absolutely terrible cook,” he teased. She grinned. “But I didn’t have to eat, so I didn’t mind. I used to tell her we were truly destined for one another because she would never have to make a meal for me, and I would never have to lie about how good it was. And she…”

Then he gently plucked her hand away, instead clasping it in his. There was the tiniest tension as she instinctively pulled back, but then she allowed him to hold her hand. “You were correct before. Brigitte was a different person. I see glimpses of her in you, but…I’d like to get to know Scarlett. If you would let me know you.”

Her eyes widened. He could practically see the sparks fly as she battled with herself over how to respond. Finally, she nodded. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Well, that would have to do. It wasn’t now I remember, I’ve always loved you, but she wasn’t running away screaming and trying to kill him. Her eyes were still locked on his and he was thrown back to that first night they met, when she’d playfully asked: Are you going to gaze into my eyes all night, or are you going to kiss me?

But this was not Brigitte. She was right about that. And so he gently squeezed her hand and said, “I’ll let you rest. Good night.”

“Good night,” she murmured, lightly grasping his hand as he went. He closed the door behind him, but listened for a few moments. There was water running, a happy sigh, and then the steady white noise of the shower. He left her alone and headed downstairs to find Safira still waiting quietly.

Her eyes met his, and when she spoke, she spoke in their native German. “So…are you okay? I was outside and tried not to listen, but…”

He slumped into the chair across from her. “I don’t know what I am,” he said. But his eyes spilled over, and a terrible claw of grief clamped onto him. Safira threw her arms around him, holding him close as he let out a single clipped sob, then reined himself in.

“She’s here. Everything is different,” she said quietly, stroking his hair.

“But it isn’t her. She’s a different person,” he said.

“Of course. So are you,” Safira said.

“I’m not saying I’m disappointed. I just….” he laughed. “I’m a fool.”

“Ah, but you’re our fool,” she said. She tapped her phone. “I’m telling Paris to get his horny ass back.”

“Let him have a few minutes. He hasn’t been in this good a mood in years,” he said.

While they waited, Julian checked in with Nikko and Sasha, who’d gone downtown to track Shea. Frowning, he listened as Nikko’s phone rang through to his brusque voicemail. According to their security app, neither of the men had checked in for the night. Julian took a moment to check himself in, along with Safira, then called Sasha.

No answer.

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