Page 59 of Cursed
Even with all the craziness and the throbbing pain, I couldn’t help but appreciate his serious face and soft touch. I wanted to reach out, wrap my arms around his neck, sink into his strength, and forget everything I’d seen at the masquerade.
Darkness fluttered at the edges of my vision, but whatever he was doing worked because the pain subsided. “Oh, damn.” I let out a soft groan and sighed from the relief. “That feels much better.”
He stopped for a moment, his body rigid, hands frozen. His eyes wandered to my lips, lingering there a little too long before starting the massage once more. His irises, with their outer ring of black, swirled with some emotion I couldn’t place. Indecision, maybe?
“Sometimes, blinking to another location can upset a body’s equilibrium. It’s why I put you to sleep. I wanted to avoid the side effect.” Only the sound of his soft breathing and faint drip of unseen water somewhere distant broke the quietness. “I’ve never used”—he cleared his throat—“my abilities to heal anyone.”
I should’ve been alarmed at what he’d admitted, but at that moment, I could only release another sigh of bliss. “This feels wonderful. Thank you, Cain.”
His thumbs stopped moving their circles, and he trailed his fingertips down both sides of my cheekbones to linger along my jawline. With a careful, almost reverent touch, he continued to trek along my neck, his thumbnails scraping the skin and sending hot shivers across the flesh. When he reached my necklace, he stopped and lowered his stare to the pendant, as if mesmerized or disgusted by its sight.
If he wants to steal it again, I won’t even put up a fight.I inhaled a deep breath and let the tension in my trapezius muscles dissolve.That was one of the worst headaches of my life.
“Who gave you this?” With one index finger, he lifted the golden necklace, tilting his head and narrowing his vision.
What harm could there be in telling him? After all, I had much more important things on my mind—such as what the hell happened tonight—since my brain was free from the horrible migraine. “My father gave it to me when I was younger, right before he left.”
Tenderly, I slipped a finger over the infinity design, my hand overlapping with Cain’s. His eyes widened at my touch, and his lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but then he gave a slight shake of his head.
He didn’t remove his finger, though.
“He made me promise to never lose it and to never take it off.” The day at the zoo replayed in my mind. “The police never figured out what happened, and eventually presumed him dead.” I shrugged, tracing the strange symbols on the back of the cross with a thumb. “But he loved us, and I know he would’ve never willingly left, I don’t care what other people say.” That large, shadowy figure approaching as I sat on the carousel rose in my mind, but I shut it down.
Don’t think about it.
“What did your father do for a living?” Cain lowered his hand then sat beside me on the bed. The simple wooden frame groaned from the added weight. A sliver of space slipped between us, but heat radiated from him in waves.
“He was an anthropology professor at the university.” I couldn’t stop a smile from forming. “Nearly every place we went, he’d point out the evolutionary achievements humans had accomplished over the years, how even during prehistoric times, humanity still needed to form communities to ensure survival. ‘Phoebe,’ he’d say, ‘a human alone is small, unimportant, and weak, but a gathering of people creates wonders and dreams.’” I rubbed at the material of my dress, dragging a nail over the seam running along the outside of my thigh. “He never minded my questions, no matter how many I threw at him.”
Cain bit his bottom lip then propped an elbow on his knee and leaned his cheek against his curled fist, his attention zeroed in on my every word.
“I guess it’s why I chose anthropology as my degree. He instilled the same passion and sense of exploration in me. Where he loved to explore the evolution and many societies of humanity with anthropology, I enjoy the sub-field of archeology, of learning about ancient cultures and how they lived by recovering what they left behind. It all fits together in one big picture.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “The things I could tell you...”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” With a mysterious smile tilting a corner of his mouth, he only shook his head. “What would you like to do with this degree that requires you to work so hard studying in classes and digging in old creeks?”
He understands what the science requires, the fieldwork and hours upon hours of study.
“I’m thinking about going into forensics. Maybe if I apply what I learn to crimes, I could bring justice, or at least closure, to families.”
I’d never mentioned forensics to anyone, not even my mom or Tara because I hadn’t even been sure forensic anthropology was something I truly wanted to explore, but hearing the words fall from my lips, I truly had been giving it some thought—at least subconsciously.
“Your father sounded very wise.” Cain sighed then stood. Turning toward me, he held out his hand. “But he was wrong about a lone human being weak.”
One part of me wanted to grab his palm, but another part whispered caution, a reminder I had questions, and this man mightlooklike me, but if I wasn’t dreaming or stoned out of my mind, he had some explaining to do. No one I knew could call on black shadows to armor themselves and create swirling tornadoes around their bodies.
“My father was rarely wrong.” I clutched the comforter near my thighs. “WhatisMalachi? A d-demon?” His potential answer terrified me, but I had to know. I’d never believed in magic, aliens, or ghostly apparitions, yet whatever happened tonight, I couldn’t ignore it. The logical hemisphere of my brain fought with the creative side, screaming wings on a man who threw out dark shadows could only mean one thing—the devil truly was real.
And how many times had my father relayed fantastic stories and beliefs carried down from an ancient community’s relics he and his team had discovered? “No matter what part of the world, all the stories have remarkably similar beginnings. A creator, a destroyer, and those who fight for either side, Phoebe. The stories in all the religions aren’t much different from one another when you weed out the biases of man.”
He’d then regale Mom and me with the histories of different religions with such enthusiasm and excitement that the people and their beliefs had blossomed to life with his stories, yet at the end, I’d always remembered they were only make-believe, created to control or manipulate others.
Now? I wasn’t so sure.
With his arm still outstretched, Cain lowered his hand to my chin and tilted it upward with an index finger. “They do not like to be called demons. They prefer Chosen. Malachi and his brothers are the Fallen, from when their side lost in the Angel Wars.” He held out his other hand, and his lips curved upward, revealing white teeth. “But let’s not speak of it in here. I don’t know about you, but I need fresh air.”
