Page 80 of The Bones of the Cursed

My father grunts. “I know. I found someone who may be able to help us control whatever power it is. I ran into him when I was at the bookstore. He told me he has ancient texts and scrolls that might help.”

My mother weeps, the memory striking me in the center of my chest. At the time, I didn’t realize they were discussing me. I was just a seven-year-old girl who had no idea of anything going on, no idea that I was releasing power and worrying my parents.

The memory fades, and another one takes its place.

“You have strong emotions, little one. I found someone who has been helping me so that I can help you.” My father speaks softly to me.

My fifteen-year-old self looks at him with tired eyes.

“Any time you get overwhelmed or your emotions start to control you, just take a small sip of this.” He hands me a bottle that contains a silvery liquid. I make a face of disgust and he chuckles.

Oh, how I miss his laugh.

“It won’t be forever. Eventually this medicine will regulate those emotions and keep them under lock and key, so you don’t have to worry about them overwhelming you.”

It’s exhausting, these extreme emotions and the unexplained things that happen when they take hold of me. I take a deep breath and grab the bottle.

My father runs his hand over my hair. “It’s all right, little one. This will help.”

I look out at the cornfield and take a sip, my body revolting at the liquid.

The cornfield burns.

I know this day. The day that solidified my fate. A day that I will forever hate, but don’t regret, because it brought me to the Primal Realm.

It brought me to Kailu and Malakai.

Conversations echo around me, so I try my hardest to open my eyes for Malakai. I hear the worry in his voice as he talks with Kailu and sense his nervousness when a familiar voice confirms there has been no change.

“Whatever blocks her mind, or maybe even her soul itself, is causing her to struggle. It’s making it more difficult for her body to fight the unconsciousness.”

I recognize the voice now. Sarya. The Elf. When did she get here?

Malakai groans. “Is there nothing we can do?”

I don’t hear any response.

“Malakai, get some rest,” says the queen. “You are of no use to her this tired.”

Gods, please take me back to him.

To both of them.

A tingle in my fingers, like pins and needles, is the first hint that I’m finally back in my body. My eyes are crusty from days of being closed. I glance around the room, the black satin sheets I lay on give away that I’m in Malakai’s bed back at the castle. The room is dim, save for the dappled sunlight peeking through the curtains. Malakai’s head rests on the mattress and he leans forward in the black leather chair he pulled to my bedside, his breathing deep as he sleeps. I tentatively lift my hand, my muscles heavy as if I was trying to lift a hundred-pound weight. My hand bumps Malakai’s which rests below his cheek.

It jolts him from his slumber. He snaps his head up, liquidsilver eyes locking onto mine. Fierce. Unyielding. And full of love.

“Firecracker.”

- MALAKAI -

Her ice-blue eyes stare into mine, my heart beating for the first time in three days. I take her face between my hands and kiss her like my life depends on it.

Her screams of pain in that meadow nearly killed me. Even in those minutes, I refused to look away from her. I wanted the last thing I saw to be her, my mate, not the bloodthirsty Amorak.

I pull back from the kiss, running my hands through her hair and over her body, searching her for any pain or injury we might have missed. It seems as if the Elves were right. She shows no signs of physical injury apart from some bumps and bruises. Throughout the entire battle, I kept her in my sights. I watched her handle the sword like a warrior, slashing through enemies with control and ease. It had to be the sexiest fucking thing I have ever seen in my hundreds of years of life. Even now I can feel my arousal at the memory of it.

She smiles at me. A soft, tender thing as she runs her fingers over my face. I watch her eyes trail down my chest, catching on the scars from the beast’s claws.

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