A Curse Unbroken (32 page)

“I know, sweetness. But we’re getting closer. Hang in there. For me,
please
.”

“I’m trying.” I didn’t mean to be so negative, but there was a reason sleep deprivation was an effective form of torture. Tura was breaking me, and I didn’t know how to salvage the pieces. “Given your power, and the amount he’s taken, I don’t know how the coven’s magic will be enough.”

“He may have fed from me and taken his share, but he can’t hold on to me—not like before. I can force him out with the strength of my beast, just like Koda and Gemini did when Tura invaded their bodies earlier in the week.”

The problem was, for as lethal as Koda and Gemini were, they didn’t have the strength to force Tura out fast enough. Emme called me crying after helping to heal a cluster of students they had mauled before they had finally forced Tura out.

“Seek out your beast for comfort, Celia,” he said when I grew quiet. “She’s strong and will help you through this.”

“Aric, my tigress is completely gone. I can’t find her anywhere within me.”

“It’s not possible,” he insisted.

“I couldn’t even open a can of spaghetti today, wolf. It’s as if my strength has completely vanished.”

He swore and seemed to be pacing. “Let me come over. Maybe I can help you find her or draw her out from where she’s hiding.”

“It’s not a good idea, love. After Tura invaded those
weres
from your Pack yesterday and sent them after me, Misha has ordered his vamps to kill any that enter his compound.” It had taken everything I had in me to convince Misha not to rip their heads off.

“It shouldn’t be like this.”

“I know, but for now it is. Try to find a way out of this soon, okay?”

“I will,” Aric answered, although I could hear the concern in his voice.

I disconnected after I told him I loved him and rolled onto my side. I placed Shah back on the throw pillow and stroked the top of his smooth surface. The gesture for some reason made me smile. I couldn’t help thinking that maybe he liked the attention. “Let me know if anything scary shows up hell-bent on killing me—or if the Catholic schoolgirls knock on the door wanting to play BDSM Twister, again.” It wasn’t a joke. When Edith showed up yesterday, I could barely understand her through her ball gag.

Shah didn’t respond, of course, but I had the feeling he was laughing.

I rolled onto my back again. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I only meant to rest. But as I stared at the ceiling, wishing like hell I could be with Aric, my body surrendered and I couldn’t fight the exhaustion any longer.

I woke in the bedroom Aric and I shared, wearing a lacey pink nightie with rosettes on the trim that Aric had given me a few weeks back. From my iPad, “Wherever You Will Go” played over the sounds of the filling bathtub. There was a splash followed by Aric’s satisfied moan. He beckoned me in a gruff voice. “Are you coming, sweetness?”

I stopped trying to make the bed. The sheets were a mess following a night of passion. I hugged the pillow in my hands and took a whiff, relishing our combined scent.

The aroma accelerated the aching need filling my body. “Yes, love,” I whispered. “I’m coming.”

Our bathroom was constructed in alternating shades of brown and rust porcelain tile. The sinks and whirlpool tub were white and all the fixtures brushed nickel. Two overhead skylights and a large frosted picture window allowed natural light to filter in. It was typically a bright room.

But it wasn’t then.

You’re not alone,
the voices said.

I charged in the moment the metallic scent of blood struck my nose, screaming at what I found. Bright crimson liquid pooled everywhere, saturating the thick white bath mat lying beside the tub. The faucet continued to run, spilling more of Aric’s blood onto the floor.

His glassy eyes fixed on me. He was still alive, despite the deathly white color bleaching his skin. I raced to him, slipping on the blood that continued to seep from the edge of the tub.

I reached beneath his arms and tried to pull him out.

You’re not alone,
the voices repeated.

My strength failed and Aric sank into the tub of thick blood. I thought he would drown in it. Half my body fell in as he submerged into what seemed to be an endless bottom. I couldn’t see. I could only feel him slipping further from my grasp as my lungs demanded air.

Somehow, I managed to hook my arm under him and drag him out. I hauled his body out of the tub, falling with his upper body clutched against me. Aric sputtered out a mouthful of blood, wheezing and unable to take a full breath.

“Baby, don’t leave me,” I pleaded. “
Please,
I’m begging you, stay with me!”

He responded by shoving his mangled wrists into my face. I choked on the cry that ripped through my chest. He’d bitten through his own flesh. Blood and small chunks of skin spilled out of his mouth as he spoke. “You were gone too long,” he gasped. “I couldn’t live without you.”

In my arms, I held my mate as he died.

You’re not alone,
the voices echoed.

I screamed, knowing they were wrong….

I woke up covered in blood, sobbing into Edith’s breasts. I scrambled away from her and to the opposite side of the bed. But she wasn’t looking at me, her gaze was completely homed in on Misha, whose crisp white shirt was soaked red. Agnes and Tim were trying to help him from the floor. For some reason, they could only position him on his knees.

Tim shot me an accusing glare. “Master, did she harm you?”

My balance gave out and I stumbled out of the bed. Some of Bren’s favorite swearwords flew out of my mouth as I literally crawled across the floor in my urgency to reach Misha. The dream had left me shaken, but the reality that I had somehow hurt him terrified me more.

The vampires hissed at me. “Oh, shut up!” I snapped.

I ignored their increasingly dangerous growls and slumped directly in front of Misha.

He gawked at me, horror sharpening his features. My hands gently touched his face, arms, and chest, searching for injuries. “Are you okay—?”

Misha grabbed my forearms and turned them to reveal my bloody arms. I almost screamed. Tura had manipulated me into slashing my own wrists. Misha wasn’t covered in his blood. He was covered in
mine
.

His stare drilled through mine, the power of his hypnosis claiming me almost instantly.
“Leave
us,”
he murmured.

I vaguely recalled the sound of doors shutting quickly as the vampires made their mad exit. My hands pushed against his chest, allowing me enough space to watch Misha’s incisors lengthen. I was glued where I lay. A low growl built from the pit of my stomach when he leaned closer. “Misha,
don’t
.”

“Trust me,” he rasped through his fangs.

Chapter 27

I woke on a cold stone floor in an old rustic cottage. Outside, snow crept up to the edges of the window. The room was small, dimly lit by a few candles. Tiny flames flickered from the burning twigs carefully placed inside a crumbling fireplace. Next to the hearth a young woman with dark blond hair and tired gray eyes sat in a wooden rocking chair, sewing a quilt with shaking hands. A flimsy shawl covered her shoulders while a thin wool dress draped the rest of her emaciated form.

Every few stitches, she glimpsed nervously toward the door. Close to her feet sat a boy about ten. He polished a pair of large, black, official-looking boots, although he wore only rags. His face was smeared with ash and dirt. He was hungry. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. I also knew who he was. His mother didn’t have to speak his name.

You’re not alone,
the voices whispered.

I stood and crossed the small space to kneel beside the boy. Beneath his tattered clothes, I could see how malnourished he was. He had the same gray eyes he would have as a man, although they lacked their usual luster…and resolve. Wisps of his blond hair escaped from a battered wool hat that was clearly too big for him. I tried to brush his greasy hair from his eyes. He rubbed at the spot where I’d touched, leaving a smudge from the polish behind. He didn’t see me. Not that it surprised me.

Outside a horse galloped to a stop and whinnied. Someone had arrived. Judging by the sound of Misha’s and his mother’s rapidly beating hearts, he wasn’t welcome. Misha’s mother abruptly stood. The quilt slipped from her lap and onto the cold floor. She didn’t bother picking it up, she was too busy staring at the door as heavy footsteps neared. It was cold in the house, but you wouldn’t have known it by the way her face glistened with perspiration. Misha didn’t glance up. He continued to concentrate on polishing the boots, although his own hands had begun to tremble.

A man entered the house wearing a thick wool coat and boots exactly like the ones Misha polished so meticulously. He was tall and heavy with a thick black beard. He threw a cloth bag onto the floor. I could smell the bread and cheese inside it. Misha’s stomach growled. Yet he made no move toward it nor did he bother to thank him.

The man smiled at the woman. She didn’t smile back. She stared with dead eyes at the floor. It bothered the man. He huffed and snatched her elbow then dragged her to another small room with a curtain for a door. For a moment, Misha stopped his work. When the deep grunts of the man and the muffled whines of his mother began, Misha resumed his work.

Misha scratched the soft brush feverishly over the boots, focusing hard on making the leather shine. A small tear slid down his face, streaking his dirt-smeared skin. I sat beside him and gathered him in my arms, trying to shield him from what was happening. But there was no protecting him from what was happening. Not then.

The heavy grunts continued in the other room, causing Misha’s brushstrokes to grow more frantic. Anger filled, but I managed to keep my voice soft. “Listen to me, Misha,” I whispered. “One day, you will be one of the most powerful beings in existence. One day, others will beg for your mercy.”

His eyes widened and he looked up slowly. He couldn’t see me, but he could hear me, so I continued. “You will have strength, and wealth, and power. So much power no one will dare hurt you.” I swallowed hard as I watched the tears of disbelief trickle down his face. “And if anyone is foolish enough to try, I will be there to stop them.”

From the room next door the large man emerged carrying the pair of filthy boots he’d worn into the house. He threw them down at Misha and snatched the freshly polished ones from his hands. After examining them closely he put them on and left. It was not until the horse galloped away that Misha’s mother returned to the rocking chair. She tried to smooth her hair before retrieving the quilt from the floor and resuming her sewing. When Misha started to clean the filthy boots she finally spoke.

Normally I didn’t understand a word of Russian, but I did then. “Leave that for now. You need to eat, my son.”

Misha turned in the direction I waited. Although I still didn’t believe he could see me or feel my touch, I hugged him tightly and kissed his tear-streaked face. “It’s okay. Eat. I swear to you, your time will come.”

I awoke embracing Misha. But he was no longer a little boy and we were no longer in the past. We sat on the comfy white couch of the guesthouse.

I stared into his familiar strong gray eyes, feeling strangely at peace. “What did you do to me?”

Misha kept his arm around my shoulders while his right hand stroked my hair from my face. “I was in the parlor entertaining a business associate when I sensed your fear. I thought you were being attacked. We arrived to find you piercing your wrists with your fangs.”

“My fangs?” He nodded. Oh hell, Aric was right. My tigress was still with me.

“You would not respond to the sound of my words or my touch,” Misha said. “It was only when you met my eyes that you stopped.” He dropped his hand, his voice dripping with regret while his face only demonstrated anger. “I saw everything that has ever caused you pain—
everything
. I felt it and experienced it all at once.”

I gaped at him with wild, horrified eyes.
“How?”

“In returning my soul, you have given me unimaginable power. Some gifts I have learned to control. Others unveil themselves as my spirit permits. I used what I’ve learned to share the darkness of my own past.”

At first I didn’t know how to respond, sadness throbbing mercilessly in my chest. “But
why
?”

He skimmed his fingers gently down my face to rest on my chin. “Because of who you are. I knew that in sharing my suffering, you would abandon your own to come to my aid.”

My attention fell to my wrists. In addition to giving me a glimpse into his past, Misha had managed to heal me.

“How is it that death has not claimed you?”

“That’s a good question.” I shrugged. “For the most part, I’ve been lucky, I guess.”

Misha laughed without humor. “Luck? No one is that fortunate, my darling. Your cunning, strength, and magic have certainly played roles in saving you.” His voice quieted. “Only your beauty, which brings me to my knees with the force of a tidal wave, can rival the power within you.”

I edged away from him, his words making me uncomfortable. I didn’t belong to him. Despite our current situation, I very much remained Aric’s mate. I owed it to him to remind Misha as much and although there were many ways to respond to his words, at the top of my list being run like hell, I resorted to making bad jokes. “You’re only saying that because I’m sitting here covered in blood.”

“No I’m not,” he added almost silently.

“Misha…” I inched away from him and tucked my knees against me to create space between us. Misha may have felt what he felt, but thankfully he didn’t press. In the silence between us, I considered his words.

Misha was right. I had left my own misery behind to help him—and I’d do it a thousand times over if he needed me—yet that didn’t explain why I felt better. Not only had my spirit been rejuvenated by the trip into his memory, but physically, I also felt stronger. “Why am I no longer weak or bleeding?”