Page 77 of Cursed Lifeline

“I know what you are, Felix.” I startle slightly as she glances my way confidently and says, “That part of my memory is intact.”

“Does it scare you?”

“You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part with: except my life.” Speechless, I swallow hard and wait for Esme to continue. Eventually, she says, “Maybe I should ask you the same question. I’ll soon be trained to take out your kind.”

“Funny,” I grin. “I’m trained to do the same.”

“Aren’t we the pair,” she teases, and a dull ache pierces my chest.

“I won’t lay a finger on you, Esme,” I insist. “Not unless I know you want me to. You’ll always be safe with me.”

Her eyes soften. “Something tells me I remember that, too.”

We smile at each other, understanding one another without even saying another word. After a moment, she bites her bottom lip and nervously whispers, “But what if I want you to touch me?”

I’ve wanted nothing more for a damn century. In fact, there is nothing I wouldn’t give to be granted just one night to devote myself to her, body and soul. To honor her. Glorify her. Show her just how much I love her, and what I hope our love is capable of in this lifetime.

But I can’t.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Her hand, which was once playing with the petals on the table, grips the white linen, and I have to close my eyes, take a deep breath, and remind myself to stick to the plan of saving her life instead of the improper, shameful hungry need rushing through my veins to take what my soul craves. Visions of her gripping white silk beneath her bare body flood me as my mouth salivates, remembering her taste. Her breathing quickens. She’s remembering the same. Passionately, she whispers my name.

Counting to three, fighting with all my might to find my control, I finally open my eyes. The look in her desperate, needy stare almost makes me flip over the table between us and recklessly make love to her against the broken wood, the shattered place settings, the upturned wine, the scattered flowers until she’s screaming the name that indecently just fell from her lips.

Before I can, a banging on the door snaps us both out of our trance.

The knocking is relentless. Harsh. Demanding.

I hold her stare for a moment while the pounding continues. When the person behind the assault shouts my name, I finally rise. Irritated, I fling the door open and take in the wide eyes of Alfred.

White as a ghost, panting, heaving with panic, he says, “We have a problem.”

Twenty Seven

Alfred

song: crazy train | joseph william morgan

Cursing,screaming, and hostile bickering ring down the hallway as I swiftly show Felix and Esme to the caboose. Since the crew of this train is run by the coven, it was the safest place to hide.

“I swear on my eternal life, if you don’t find a cure, I’ll hunt you down and drain your life in my next without a second thought and…”

“Caelum!” I shout, making Evangeline jump as we enter the room.

A bottle of garlic antidote in one of her hands, rag in the other, the bottle spills on the bite mark at his neck. The sound of sizzling flesh fills the room and my stomach turns. Caelum screams out in pain as Evangeline holds the rag against his throat. Behind me, Felix quickly shrugs out of his evening coat, stalks across the room, and holds Caelum still.

“How did this happen?” he hisses.

I glance over my shoulder at Esme’s horror-filled expression, and I swear on all things holy, if she faints, I am turning right back around, contacting the council, and telling them she’s not ready. We’re not ready, not if the actions that brought us here tonight are any indication of the way our future will go.

To my surprise and delight, she shoves the fear down quickly and rushes to Caelum’s side. Felix watches her with a keen, jealous eye as she takes Caelum’s hand and offers him a few words of whispered encouragement.

Well, that went over better than I thought. Now, if I can only get the building nausea in my gut to subside, we’d be headed in the right direction.

In Esme’s past life, we never advanced to the point of hunting. I never encountered blood, death, or the likes of which lie in front of me now. When she was murdered, she was laid to rest before I ever got a chance to witness her in her gruesome state. Not that I don’t count that a blessing. But all of this, every gory detail flooding my senses right now, is new to me. In fact, my senses are heightened due to the fact that since Esme’s first life, I’ve been turned fae.

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