Page 46 of Cursed
The way he’d made me feel the other night seemed to happen all over again. I dug my fingernails into my palms.I will not be his victim.If nothing else, at least he’d finally shown how truly despicable and out of control he’d become.
I surveyed the moving, masked crowd below until my stare found Kira and her date.
Wearing a cobalt dress shirt with a dinner jacket and black slacks, Brian, swaddled in his sharp attire, stood out from everyone because it wasn’t as whimsical as the other costumes. He moved closer to Kira and took her in his arms, swaying stiffly to the beat of the techno music coming from the speakers, but his gaze swept the crowd.
I ground my teeth.He’s not going to ruin my night.
“Why the hell did he show up? He hates this kind of stuff.” Ripping my gaze from the people fifteen feet below, I focused on my friend.
“Dunno.” She lifted a shoulder, pushed on the elastic above her ear then shifted her mask into place. “He’s a jerk. I’ve been trying to tell you for the last year he’s no good. Glad you finally ditched his ass.” Tipping her head backward and gulping the last of her drink, she bobbed her head in time with the music, crumpled the plastic cup, and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. “I still want to punch him in the balls for hurting you, though.”
I waved a hand. “I’m okay. I’m not some delicate flower.” But really, on the inside, I wasn’t all right.If Cain hadn’t intervened, how far would Brian have gone?Rubbing my arms to ward off a sudden chill, I squared my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go dance.” An urgent need to prove to Tara—and myself—that Brian had no power over me beat within, driving me forward.
“Yes.There’s my girl.” Threading her hand through the crook of my arm, Tara led me down the stairs. “We don’t take shit off of anyone, especially no-good, drunken assholes who take advantage of others.”
With my best friend at my side, strength flowed through my limbs.
The fast music changed to a low, electronic beat of drums pounding out of the hidden speakers, vibrating the steps under my feet, and I grinned.
“Hey, this playlist isn’t half-bad,” I shouted over the music.
Gary Numan’s “My Name is Ruin” had been one of those strange songs I’d stumbled upon while surfing YouTube, and I’d immediately fallen in love with its brooding, dark electronic beat.
Tara and I reached the bottom stair, stopped, and swayed to the pulsing vibrations. Its deep, primal pounding fed a restlessness in my soul, and I let myself go, laughing with Tara as we waved our arms in the air with slow, languorous movements, not quite making it to the dance floor.
I stood above a flowing sea of masked angels and demons giving in to the music, loosening their inhibitions with the help of the savage beat and spiked punch, and, suddenly, I didn’t care Brian was here because he couldn’t ruin my fun.
“You’re right,” I shouted over the noise, “I needed to let loose.”
With a sage nod, she bumped her hip into mine. “Told ya. Now I need to get you to take a nip or ten from my special drink.”
“No way. I want to enjoy myself, not pass out in a drunken coma.”
“Suit yourself.”
The candles and lights flickered for a moment, throwing shadows over the crowd, and static broke through the speakers.
I wondered if the power was about to go out, but then everything stabilized.
The library’s front doors blew open and a gust of Autumn wind swirled through the room, bringing the scent of moisture and cinnamon, of wet leaves and faint woodsmoke. The breeze rifled through my hair, rattling the party decorations lining the banisters and the paper Heaven and Hell scenes covering the walls and bookshelves.
Several professors moved to the heavy doors, trying to wrangle them closed, but a silhouette appeared at the entrance. Even though the library shone with soft-yellow lighting, it didn’t reach the man standing just out of its circle. It was probably my imagination, but I could’ve sworn dark tendrils flowed outward from his feet and shadowed the light.
I shook my head, clearing away the ridiculous image.Maybe my punch is spiked heavier than I thought.I wanted to laugh, but nervous jitters careened in my belly instead.
Most couples stalled, and their attention fixated on the man at the threshold.
Large, yet toned, he stood perfectly still, as if waiting or surveying the crowd. After several seconds, he stalked into the light of the library and came into view, though most of his face lay hidden behind a black mask.
His movement seemed to break whatever strange mood imprisoned the frozen crowd, and it felt as if the entire dance floor let out a pent-up breath.
Tara and I continued standing in place. I swallowed. Something about the way he moved seemed familiar...entrancing and predatory.
A gothic flare decorated his mask, and I could imagine it being worn hundreds of years ago during elaborate, aristocratic parties. A dark, timeless suit molded to his form, elegant yet simple with silver buttons at the collars and wrists. Against the other costumes, he was a man out of time, commanding attention without doing anything except existing.
“Holy shit,” Tara breathed. “Who isthat? It’s like Tom Hiddleston and Mads Mikkelsen got together and birthed a god. Wonder how he looks under the mask and all those clothes?” She flashed a devilish grin, but I didn’t respond.
Instead, I fingered the necklace at my neck. Something in the way he stood screamed power, obedience, and seduction. And a feeling that I should’ve known him hit me.
