Page 27 of The Cursed

Exposing this part of myself felt like a betrayal, like giving him access to information he could use against me one day. I forced myself to offer it, anyway.

If my past was what I needed to sacrifice in order to get my freedom in the end, then I would gladly give it.

"When I was younger, I lost one of the cage fights," I said, hesitating as I drew in a deep breath. It was a stupid secret to keep, foolish to hide the truth when he already knew the likely culprit. Only it had always beenmine."My dad had this coffin that he buried in the yard beside the house. There was a steel door at the foot that opened into the basement. He used to put me in there and lock the door. There was no light to speak of, just the coffin walls pressing in on me," I answered, ignoring the way he cringed with every word.

"Why didn't you break out?" he asked, and I knew he meant because a coffin buried in the earth should have been easy work for a Green witch.

"My magic hadn't manifested yet," I said, giving away the answer as to how much younger I'd meant. A witch's magic manifested at sixteen, meaning I had to have been younger when my father took to burying me alive.

He ground his teeth together, the sound of them making me shiver. I didn’t offer any more details about how young I’d been when it started, or the nightmares that had plagued my sleep for years after.

"That's why Charlotte buried him alive, of all things," he said, his voice trailing off as he considered it. "I'm sorry, Witchling. I assumed you would be protected. That was my mistake, and it is not one that I will ever make again. You deserved to be loved. You deserved to be worshiped."

I huffed a laugh, the sound coming out as bittersweet as it felt. "I was loved. My momlovedme. She made up for him."

"No. She loved you the way she should have, though that doesn't mean you didn't deserve more. You deserved everything," he said, touching my bottom lip with his thumb. He tugged it to the side as he leaned in, sealing his mouth over mine. The kiss was gentle, lacking the anger and heat that I'd sought when I came into the bedroom.

I'd wanted to piss him off, not make him act sweet. This was another battle in our war, even as the gentleness that he kissed me with was something else entirely. It felt like I'd lost a battle, and I didn't even know why. Endearing him to me was a good thing.

So why then, did I feel like it was my heart that had been cracked open all over again?

14

WILLOW

We'd showered together, his touch reverent but not sexual. It was caring and gentle, soothing and comforting.

His aim in that moment hadn't been to seduce me with his body, but with the heart he wanted me to believe in.

He'd left shortly after, leaving me to my thoughts for the day until he returned with a dress bag in hand. The promise of leaving the room had lightened something in me, drawing a smile from me that I hated the moment it left. I shouldn't have had to feel grateful for a semblance of freedom.

"I'm doing what I must to keep you safe. You know that, right?" he asked, forcing me to recognize just how much of my thought process he understood.

"I don't need to be protected," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. He dropped the dress bag, draping it over the bench at the foot of the bed and raising his hands to unbutton his suit jacket. He shrugged it off his shoulders in silence, draping it with the dress bag and moving on to the buttons of his shirt.

"You can say that all you want, but do you want to know what I think?" he asked, stepping closer as he shrugged off his shirt. He stepped into my space, grasping my top by the hem and lifting it gently enough that I had to cooperate by raising my arms to help him. I hadn't bothered with a bra, not wanting to suffer through the discomfort just to hang out in a minimal space with one other occupant. He leaned in, putting his mouth by my ear as his chest pressed against mine.

"Not particularly, but I'm sure you're going to grace me with your opinion anyway," I mumbled, earning a deep chuckle of amusement from him.

"There's my cruel little witchling," he said, his voice warm as he settled his hand at the base of my spine. His fingers spread over me, pulling me tighter into his body. “I think you like knowing someone cares about you enough to protect you from harm. I think you want to hate me for it, because you know there is nobody else who would do what I have for you.”

I swallowed, hating the way those words tore through my wall. I'd said as much myself that night in the shower after the witches had attacked me. Who would care that I was gone aside from the brother I could never see again if I wanted to protect him?

As much as it pained me to admit, Gray would care. On some level, in some way, he would notice my absence.

It was more than I could say about anyone else.

"You're a bastard. You aren't supposed to take joy in reminding me I'm alone in the world," I said, pulling back as I fought the tightening in my chest.

He refused to release me, holding me firm as he raised a hand to my face and touched my cheek. "You've been alone, but you aren't anymore. When are you going to understand that?" he asked, holding my gaze. His golden eyes were so intense as he watched me. It felt like he was looking through my eyes and seeing every thought in my brain—felt every emotion in my heart.

When the urge to run spread through my limbs, I ignored it. Pressing up onto my toes, I touched my mouth to his gently. His lips moved against mine tenderly, guiding me through the careful kiss. He held me like I might shatter, as if I was made of glass, until I lowered my hands to his belt, tearing it open and yanking it out of his slacks.

He smiled against me, deepening the kiss as I made quick work of his button and fly, shoving his pants down his thighs with quick, careful movements as he did the same to mine. He kicked off his shoes and pants, stripping off his socks before making his way to the bed.

He settled against the pillows, crooking a finger at me to summon me to his side. I knelt on the end, crawling up his body the same way I had earlier that morning. Straddling his waist, I let his length brush against my center and groaned when I found him hard and ready for me. "For the record, Witchling," he said as I leaned over him, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. "You cannot fuck me whenever you don't want to confront your feelings for me."

"Can't I?" I asked, tilting my head to the side as I reached between us to grasp him. He laughed, his lips spreading with a blinding smile when I didn't bother to deny his insinuation.

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