Page 45 of Wicked Curses
“I ha’en’t been t’is drunk in centuries,” she slurred.
Orin stared at her bent head before kneeling to untie her boots. He tried not to think about the fact that he, a dark faeprince, was kneeling before a woman and removing her boots with no hope of spreading her legs, but here he was.
He set the boots on the floor beside the bed and looked at her bent head. Some of her hair had fallen from her bun and tumbled forward to shield her pretty features, but her eyes were still open and bloodshot.
The little witch had tried to bury her troubles in a bottle, ensuring she’d have a bad headache tomorrow. He brushed back a strand of her hair; for some reason, his thumb lingered on her silken cheek while he studied her.
“I’m na gonna have sex wit’ you,” she muttered.
Orin chuckled as he ran his thumb across her cheek. She was so supple and warm; the feel of her spiked his pulse and sent blood straight to his groin, but he willed his arousal away.
“Believe me, witch, when we have sex, and wewillhave it, you’ll be perfectly coherent and begging for more. Besides, I’ll make sure you remember every detail of it.”
“We’reneverhaving sex.”
“One day soon, I’m going to prove you wrong.”
Before she could reply, he grasped her ankles and gently lifted her legs onto the bed. She plopped back and rolled over so her back was to him. Before he could say anything more, his pretty little witch started snoring.
Orin stared at her for a minute, intrigued by her combination of strength and vulnerability. She’d never show that vulnerability, but it was there beneath her beautiful surface.
Finally, he tore his attention away from her and retreated to her door. He locked it and glanced back before closing it and returning to work.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
Sahira hadno idea what time it was when she woke, but her room was dark, her mouth dry, and her head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it. When she attempted to swallow, it made her stomach lurch.
She started to moan and lifted a hand toward her head but stopped when something shifted in the darkness. Her breath caught, and she froze as the shadows in the room’s corners crept closer to her.
At first, she didn’t understand what was happening and how the shadows could move. She didn’t know where she was, as nothing in the room was familiar, but then the smell of whiskey and grass hit her, and her memory of this place returned.
She was in the Cursed Realm, a place where she didn’t belong but couldn’t leave. She’d become ensconced in a maze with no exit.
She’d become encased in Hell.
Then the shadows moved again, and a surge of hope deflated her misery.Is it Cole? Did he find us?
But that didn’t make sense; Cole wouldn’t creep through the shadows if he were here. He’d make himself known instead of spying on her.
Did he send the shadows ahead of him? Have the shadows found us and are now reporting to Cole?
But something wasn’trightabout these shadows. Not that the ones who were a part of Cole felt right either; they were ominous, lethal things that could tear the heart out of someone… and often did.
Cole’s shadows moved freely as they crept around a room and went about their destructive way. These shadows, or whatever was moving through them, didn’t coalesce or split up and divide to attack; they moved together in an insidious dance that sent a chill down her spine.
Because of the pounding in her head, she could barely do more than squint her eyes at the shadows… that might not be shadows. They were a single form coming toward her, stretching a hand out—
A scream caught in Sahira’s throat as she lay, watching and waiting for the shadow thing to connect with her. Its warmth brushed against her neck, but that couldn’t be right. Shadows weren’t warm; they were…
Well, she had no idea, but they certainly weren’twarm!
Their tendrils or fingers, or whatever they were, crept toward her throat. Fingers reached forward—
Sahira threw herself backward with a startled cry. She tumbled out of bed and crashed onto the floor with a thud that shook the nightstand beside her. When she hit the ground, she kicked something aside, and it skittered into the darkness.
For a second, she contemplated crawling under the bed and hiding, but stubborn pride and self-preservation propelled her to her feet. With her body tensed for battle or to throw up, her eyes shot around the room.
Nothing moved.
