Page 30 of Too Cursed To Kiss
Even in my dreams, I could never have imagined that kiss. I licked another taste from my lips. His tongue was magic, and his words lingered with the sweetness I tasted.
The image of hell in the mirror stared back, and I threatened it with the dampened hair brush. He’d made it clear there was no time for a real shower, but dragging the brush through my hair turned it into an instant frizz ball. I scrunched in water, turning the ends into little curls, then dried it on low. The lip-gloss from my pocket turned into blush and eyeshadow. Five minutes later, I looked a little less blotchy.
I ripped off one loose ribbon bow on the bra. Then laughing with tears of joy, I ripped off the matching one on the other side for symmetry. Well, it took me three tries, but I got it off, leaving a hole in the pink satin. The highs and lows of all the chaos rocking my life had begun to sink in. Pulling myself together, I exhaled, swore, and opened the door.
Jeezus. Wald waited in a fresh black dress shirt and an inky black velvet dinner jacket, looking like the pale sex god I was learning he was.
I straightened my dress, wishing it was black. “Why don’t you explain the whole curse-no-kiss thing, now?”
He straightened a cuff. “It’s my problem, not yours.”
I walked two steps toward him and was hit by earthy musk, a scent not unlike warm cat fur and bourbon. My eyes darted around the room, spotting a half-full bottle and an empty glass. A drink would be perfect.
“How about a drink? You made it pretty clear that my problems are your problems.” I steered for the bourbon, and he stepped in front of me. So close but thedo-not-touchrolled off his squared shoulders.
He leaned forward. “My problems will never be yours. Do you understand?” His voice was gravel and line-in-the-sand rough.
All it did was make me mad. “Whatever. Out of my way,” I said, pushing him back or trying to. My hand on his arm was my mistake. His bourbon-soaked lips found mine. My God, the bourbon and that musk. If I knew what it felt like to swoon, I probably swooned. At any rate, I melted into the kiss that was all tongue and silky lips. He pushed something into my mouth, and as my brain caught up, I bit down on the most luscious bourbon-soaked maraschino cherry I’d ever tasted.
I groaned into his mouth as he walked me backwards, still kissing me. His tongue’s laps held the sweetness and the wood from the bourbon, and his scent melted my mind. Dinner with his parents was going to have to fucking wait.
Wald opened the door and pushed me into the hall. I stood agape, my brain flashing from annoyance towhy. “You bastard, you just didn’t want me to drink before meeting your parents.”
He grinned with a rakish smile as he stepped into the hall, then closed and locked the door behind him. I playfully punched him. “You still need to explain the whole curse thing.”
“Later. Dinner first.” It was one word that pooled into iron.
But as he walked around me, he lifted a piece of my hair, letting it trail through his now bare fingers as he moved away. I followed him down the hall to the stairs, still savoring the lingering sweetness of the cherry.
I mean what else was I going to do?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dinner would have been more miserable if I’d been seated beside either Britannia or Wald. His parents were smart and sat me between them, facing Wald and Britannia. Maverick picked up a soup spoon, and in his massive hand, it was doll sized. I wanted to hit him with a discussion of pro-choice, but with the simmering contempt rolling off Britannia, I focused on the multi-course dinner, exchanging the pleasantries you’d expect interested parents to ask of a girlfriend.
Filling the empty spaces of conversation, I babbled on with esoteric Harlan-trivia. I was seven when Mom landed in prison for killing a cop (manslaughter) and ten when she died inside. My aunt had never wanted kids, and besides being the burden Mom had dropped on her, she’d blamed me for Mom’s death. Dad had never been in the picture. He’d knocked her up, whispered her promises of a family, then ditched us before I was born. Mom had scraped by with help from my grandmother, then with two jobs, and a night run for a local dealer. That’s the job which had gone wrong. I’dgrown up angry and wanting what other kids at school had—parents. Annoying my aunt, I’d tried to be more like Mom, but it had taken my aunt’s death and Gentry’s idiocy to smarten me up.
Servants in gray-green suits cleared courses of soup, rare roast beef, salad, bloomy rind cheese, and a devil’s food style chocolate cake that reminded me of my grandmother’s birthday cake recipe. How I missed her. She was the only one of my speckled family who had the deep-seated calmness that would make everything instantly better.
The servants, a man and woman, never spoke. Their faces were blank, entirely focused on the food they served and the glasses they filled. It was more than obvious that Wald’s parents were wealthy, but this effortless wealth was surreal. Like I was in some fancy restaurant. All through this verbal spurge, I shot Wald endearing glances and Britannia tight smiles that were cloaked fuck-yous.
Did I mention the coffee was glorious?
I silently plotted how Britannia would get her payback, outwardly playing to the girlfriend cover story and managing to avoid what actually had brought me here. Victoria now knew my favorite color was burgundy like my hair, and the only soup I’d ever made came in packets, but not that I was on the run from a possible murder charge. Victoria laughed along with Wald at my stupid jokes, and Maverick smiled like I was another daughter. Wald’s laugh was the salve for my soul. He had that same solid calmness of my grandmother.
I was glowing with comfort and inclusion by the time Maverick and Victoria pushed back from the table. It was clear I was an acceptable girlfriend, and from the way Britannia was stabbing the chocolate cake with a knife, she was murderous. I stood up, following Wald from the dining room to the parlor, but watching my back.
Britannia stuck her tongue out at me, and both her and Victoria excused themselves less than a minute after we’d sat down. The tension left with her.
When Maverick began to speak, I got that nectary funny feeling again, and the world dropped away. I could only focus on his voice.
“Father!” Wald snapped.
“Of course, my apologies, Harlan. We are unused to visitors here.”
I was able to think again, gushing out stupid, “Oh, no problem, Maverick, dinner was great, and I so appreciate the hospitality. Why don’t you all wear sunglasses like Wald?”
Maverick stared at me for a moment, then at Wald. “Unlike Waldemar, our eyes change with our form. I gather you are in some trouble?” His eyes narrowed, and I felt a compulsion to answer.
