Page 114 of Cursed Lifeline

“When I know better than to listen to empty threats you keep hurling at me, no, your Highness, I don’t.”

“Highness?” Viktor scoffs. “I believe you’re confusing me with my brother.”

“I know who I’m dealing with,” I defend myself. Straightening my spine, I hold my chin high and refuse to back down. Even when Viktor’s heated stare begins to travel the curve of my face, then lowers across my neck, my chest, and the curve of my hips, I still don’t budge.

“Do you?” he grins. “Words are one thing, princess, but actions always speak louder.”

He nods towards my palm that’s clutching the damp cloth. Inhaling a shaky breath, I try to settle the trembling of my hand as I reach out again and attempt to wipe his brow. To my surprise, or perhaps my horror, he lets me. His eyes hold mine the entire time as I slowly sponge more blood from his temple. His breathing deepens. Mine increases. He wets his lips, I bite my own. Toweling off his forehead, I avert my gaze as I turn to put some distance between us, but I don’t get very far before Viktor reaches out, grabs my chin, and forces me to meet his stare.

“Why are you helping me?” he demands.

Jaw set like stone, anger paints his features. As I study him closer, his eyes, though guarded, reflect pain. Heartache. Fear of rejection.

When I don’t respond, he pulls my face closer until his breath feathers across my lips, and he growls, “What do you want with me, princess?”

“Nothing,” I whisper.

The word hangs between us like a threat. A promise. A lie that will be uncovered over time.

“No one does anything without expecting something in return,” he hisses. “You should have left me for dead. My immortal life isn’t worth you sacrificing your own. If honor and prestige are what you are after, I have none. I hold no power over the coven, not like my brother…”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

Viktor’s eyes search mine. Leaning closer, I suck in a sharp breath as the heat of his own invades my mouth. As it tickles the curve of my lips, I stop breathing. “For centuries, I’ve endured learning my place. Whatever you believe you know, forget it. You and your delusions have no space in my life. So cut the bullshit and stop pretending like you give a damn because we both know you don’t.”

Viktor leans back against the rock wall behind him and I tell myself it’s okay to breathe. Looking off to the right, he rubs some blood out of his eyes and shakes his head with disgust. As I rise slowly, Viktor’s eyes drift back my way and fill with sadness. He tries to hide it, but I notice the suffering, the distress, the need to put up a mask so no one gets close enough to understand the hurtful burden he obviously carries.

We study each other as I walk away. He thinks I’m going to leave. That I am going to do what he tells me. But if there is one thing he will learn about me, it’s that my intentions don’t waiver easily.

Walking over to a small boulder where my supplies are spread out, I pick up a tonic that will ease the pain of his wounds. Clutching it tight in my palm, I take a long steadying breath as the heat of his gaze lingers on my spine. Wishing the mixture was strong enough to erase the hurt in his heart, I turn back towards him. Viktor instantly averts his stare and sits up a little straighter. Defensively, he crosses his arms across his chest and refuses to speak.

Smiling, I grab a fresh cloth, walk back to his side, and kneel before him. Dabbing a small amount of the tonic on the fabric, I slowly raise it to his face and say, “This might sting a little.”

His eyes lock on mine. Wounds covered up through centuries of bitterness and loathing stare back at me. Haunted by unjust injuries, a snide chuckle slips past Viktor’s lips. “Nothing you inflict can hurt more than the life I’ve been forced to endure.”

Lightly dabbing his wounds, I smile when a slight grimace graces his harsh features. He sucks in a sharp breath. My eyes rise and lock on his. A moment later, Viktor’s intense, thirsty stare steals my ability to speak.

“What’s your name, princess?” he asks as I lightly dab at his wounds.

“Why?”

“You know mine,” he shrugs. “Seems fitting I know yours.”

Grinning, I rise and walk back to the small boulder where my supplies are scattered. Picking up some gauze and tape, I return to Viktor and wrap the white fabric around his head a few times. When I still haven’t told him my name, he says, “Unless, of course, you prefer for me to continue to refer to you as royalty?”

My mind wanders to another man who promised close to the same not so long ago.

“My blood may be royal,” I smile. “But it’s been a long time since I have embraced the status.”

Breathing deeply, Viktor growls, “Your blood calls to me, your highness. How else do you think I knew to call you princess? Now, tell me your name before I taste you and figure it out against your will.”

My eyes lock on his as I fasten the gauze around his head. “You wouldn’t dare,” I tease.

“I’ve killed mightier bloodlines than yours for less,” he grins. “Your name. Don’t make me ask again.”

His right hand finds its way to my hip, and he pulls me closer.

Rolling my eyes at his continual empty threats, I concede, “Evangeline.”

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