Page 47 of The Cursed

"Let me," I said, reaching for the moss on the ground. I grasped a handful of it, raising it toward his face.

"You've done enough," Iban snapped, making me flinch back as I dropped the moss to the ground. As soon as it retreated beneath the stone, I drew a circle with my shoe and watched as the stone righted itself again.

"You knew what you were risking when you kissed me," I said, raising my brow. Only a fool wouldn't have believed that he'd incur the wrath of my husband when he touched me, and Iban was many things, but he wasn't a complete idiot. He'd just thought he wouldn't get caught.

Iban scoffed, dropping his hand. As his lip curved into a cruel grimace, a new drop of blood slid over his bottom lip. "Yeah, I just thought it would be worth it."

He turned away, hefting his bag onto his shoulder. Thrusting a hand into it and rummaging around, his shoulders sagged in relief. That was the confirmation I needed about the knife, at least. Heading for the family he knew would heal him without any complications that came with me doing it, he fled the scene. I brushed off the hurt from his words, as dickish as they might have been, understanding that they came from a place of fear and anger.

I'd said and done worse in my own pain and refusal to acknowledge it, but I would have been lying to myself if I didn't admit the pettiest part of me hated the lack of appreciation for the fact that I'dsaved his life.

That would come later, when he realized just how close to death he'd been and the adrenaline faded.

I turned on my heel, forgoing my journey to the gardens in favor of the confrontation that waited for me in the rooms Gray and I shared. As much as I might be trying to worm my way beneath his skin,thiscouldn't go unanswered.

Students left their classes for the day as I walked toward Gray's office and bedroom, passing them by and going in the opposite direction. He should have been teaching a class of his own until he agreed to a replacement, but his last period of the day had once been occupied by the new witches who'd been brought in this year.

Before he fucking slaughtered them.

My anger rose as I pushed open the door, finding him standing by the window with his whiskey in his hand. He'd stripped off his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of the sofa while he waited for me. Iban's words affected me more than I wanted to admit. That hurt, combined with the way Gray had betrayed me and was now attempting to kill someone I considered a friend, was unacceptable regardless of the trigger event.

I slammed the door closed behind me, ambling fully into the room and crossing my arms over my chest. Gray turned his body to face me, quirking a brow in impatience. "Well? Let's hear it then," he said, the complete lack of remorse hitting me far worse than any argument he could have offered.

He didn't care.

He hadn't done it in anger or rage but made a cold, calculated decision. My arms dropped to my sides as I laughed in disbelief, shaking my head and turning for the bedroom.

I’d have understood his actions coming from betrayal. I’d have understood the rage and anger when he looked at me after what I’d done, but this was different. This was just another step in some master plan I wasn’t privy to.

And I wanted no fucking part in it.

I went to the dresser, gathered an armful of clothes, and tossed them onto the bed. I then went to the closet, searching for a bag to shove them into as Gray blocked the doorway. "What are you doing, Witchling?"

"What does it look like? I'm not staying here any longer," I called from the closet, returning to drop the bag on the bed. The clothes came unfolded as I grabbed them again, tossing them into the duffel bag as quickly as I could.

"Like hell, you're not," Gray argued, puffing up his chest as if to prove the point that he blocked the only door out. Jonathan scurried out of my messenger bag as I set it on the bed, scurrying into the living room like the coward he was.

"You tried to kill my friend," I said, spinning to face him. “I knew you were a murderer, but I thought you’d at least spare the people I cared about after what you said in the woods that day.”

He tensed his jaw, squaring his body even further as he took a step toward me. "Do you kiss all your friends like that?"

"Maybe I do," I said, leaning into his face. "What difference would it make if I did? Your compulsion means I can't even fucking enjoy it, you asshole."

Gray stilled for a moment, searching my face before he smiled broadly. His laughter was mocking as he closed the distance between us, stopping only when he filled my vision and obliterated everything but him. "You died, Love. I brought you back using my own blood and magic. There is no more compulsion."

I stared up at him, my brow furrowing as I considered the unthinkable. "You're lying."

"My magic cannot work against you now because you have the same magic in your veins. They cancel each other out. You may not have enjoyed that boy's kiss, but it wasn't because I compelled you not to. It was because you're just not interested in him," Gray said, taking another step toward me. The length of his body pressed against mine, leaving me with no choice but to look up at him when he cupped my cheek. The gentleness he touched me with was such a direct opposition to how he must have handled Iban that it made me wince. "You cannot be interested in him when I already have your heart."

"You don't," I snapped, backing away and putting distance between us. "Only a monster would throw a man over the railing because he dared to kiss me. I'm not like you, and I will notwastemy love on a man like that."

"You're my wife," Gray said, twisting his head with frustration as he ran his tongue over his bottom teeth. "I will do whatever I please with anyone who touches you. Maybe it would be wise for you to take this as the warning it is and make sure it never happens again. But I will have you know I didn't approach him with the intent to kill him. It was clear to me you didn't enjoy it, and I was content to let your rejection be punishment enough."

"Really?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. "Because I find that very hard to believe."

"I also knew you would likely find it difficult to forgive me for killing him on the spot, and I didn't particularly care to deal with you pretending you didn't want to be with me until you did," he explained. I turned to sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at him in confusion.

"But you threw him over the railing," I said, stating the obvious. It didn't match up with his story.

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