The Curse Keepers (Curse Keepers series) (24 page)

Collin bent over and lit the last candle, then led me toward the sofa. He stopped in front of it, his eyes on mine, his expression so stoic it made me nervous. Collin Dailey cared about nothing and no one, but Collin Dailey the Curse Keeper bore his responsibility seriously.

Then he began to chant, words I didn’t understand, but power swirled around us. My mark tingled, and I closed my eyes. Collin began to unbutton my shirt, and I let him, my body alive with magic and lust. I wanted him to take off my shirt. I wanted him to do so much more.

His fingers brushed against the skin of my chest, and he slowly pulled my blouse open, lingering at my shoulders and sliding it down my arms. This must be what it was like to be seduced by Collin. Tonight, even if just for one night, I was going to let myself pretend he was seducing
me
.

My shirt fell to the floor, but Collin’s hands remained on my arms, so feather light he gave me chills. Would he think my goose bumps were due to cold or desire? Did it matter?

His hands glided up my arms, to my neck and then my face, as he continued to chant. He cupped my cheeks, the heels of his palms resting on my jaw, his fingers barely stroking my skin. I opened my eyes, surprised at the intensity on his face. His mouth moved as the soft guttural sounds escaped, and I became mesmerized by his lips.

The words changed tempo and tone. Collin gently trailed his hands to my shoulders, his fingers pressing with tenderness as he pushed me down to sit on the sofa. He turned me gently, so that I faced the door. His fingers moved down my back, one hand sweeping my braid over my right shoulder with a softness I didn’t expect. He inserted a finger under my left bra strap
and slowly slid it over my shoulder and down my arm. Then Collin’s chanting became louder and more insistent as his palm rested on my shoulder blade and a force surged in me, heat radiating out from Collin’s hand.

My eyelids sank closed. Never had I felt this way with a man. It had to be the power that flowed through our veins. Magic and hunger stirred inside me, summoned by Collin, both through his words and his touch.

His hands were on my shoulders again, urging me forward so that my chest was on the sofa. His words changed again as his right hand left my body. And then I felt something wet touch my back, and Collin began to paint, my skin tingling with power with every stroke.

The design on Collin’s chest was intricate, and I knew he was duplicating his own mark on my back. He spent several minutes drawing and reciting the ancient words. When the design was complete, he sprayed something cold on my skin, and the smell of lemons permeated the room. I suppressed the shiver that crawled up my spine.

His hands cupped my shoulders again and gently pulled me to my feet, turning me slowly, ever so slowly. When I faced him, he removed his hands. My eyes flew open at the loss. He took a step back and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. Then he moved toward me, until only inches separated us. Again we were face-to-face and shirtless. But this was different. So very different.

His right hand reached for mine, raising it and opening my fingers. He traced the mark on my palm before placing my hand over the mark on his chest, resting his heavy, strong hand over mine.

I looked up at him in wonder as his eyes closed. He still chanted the ancient words. My fingers stretched and flexed, the hair on his chest tickling my fingertips. Heat blazed through my palm, reaching out for the heat of Collin’s mark. His muscles tensed, and he inhaled, his recitation louder and more intense.

Collin’s eyelids eased open, and he moved my hand away, holding it between us. He released his grip, and his right hand rose to meet mine, pressing our palms together and lacing our fingers. As our marks aligned, the two halves of our power became one.

Then the universe opened and sang.

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

The rush of power sucked my breath away. I was aware of everything at once, the Manitou of every living thing. Plants, animals, people. Bacteria, insects, fungus. The pulse and throb of their life force echoed around me. Inside me. Through me.

I was aware of the wind and the water, the earth and stars. The sand dunes in Nags Head, the ocean waves of the Atlantic, the storm brewing fifty miles away. I was in the center of the universe. I was outside the universe. I was everywhere at once.

What I experienced in the warehouse in Buxton was only a small sample of what I felt now. I wasn’t just a Keeper of the Curse; I was a Keeper of the Manitou of every living thing threatened by the gods and spirits. I felt the loss of the dead birds we’d seen over the last two days, the unbalance it caused. And more I hadn’t even known about. Deer in the forest. Cows on a farm on the mainland. Dogs, cats, raccoons. The Manitou cried for the loss.

It was up to me and the man before me to right the wrongs.

A magic more ancient than gods, as old as the birth of the world, flowed through our veins. Manteo hadn’t simply used the power of the Croatan gods to create the curse; he’d appealed to a much older force.

The birth of the world began with the earth and the water. I was the child of the water, born of the sea. Collin was the child of the earth, born of the land. We were the yin and yang of the Curse.

I looked up at Collin, seeing the same rapture on his face that I felt. I could feel his heart beating in his chest. The inhale and exhale of his lungs.
The hair follicles on his skin standing on end. We were linked together by a force older than the world. By power that was strengthened with our union.

His lips parted in surprise as his gaze lowered to my face, and I realized that he’d stopped his chant. His fingers tightened over my hand, squeezing our palms tighter. His free hand wrapped around me, his palm pressing into the small of my back. We were skin to skin from the waist up with the exception of my bra, the rise and fall of our chests synchronized.

My skin tingled, burning with the ancient force and longing. I brought my left hand to his chest, the need to have every part of my body touch him overpowering all reason. His fingers moved higher up my back, flexing and gripping to my skin as though he felt the same way.

I lifted my chin, looking deep into Collin’s eyes. The blatant desire staring back at me made me want him even more. I slid my hand up his neck, my fingertips trailing over his pulse. His lips parted more, his breath coming in shorter gasps. I wanted to taste him, to nip his lower lip and run my tongue over it. To mingle our breaths in an attempt to join even more. Instead, I watched and waited. This was Collin’s ceremony. I was only a participant.

He lowered his face, his hooded eyes concentrating on my lips. I stretched my neck, my lips drawn to his, but he stopped short, his hot breath fanning on my face. I breathed him in, wanting every part of him that he was willing to offer.

“Ellie.” My name uttered by his tongue sent chills up my spine.

I needed him, more than the air that I breathed. I was his. He only had to ask.

His hand pulled away from my back and cupped the side of my head, tilting it upward. His breath was hard and fast. I felt the desire coursing through his blood, the proof of it pressed against my body. I waited for him to touch his lips to mine, but he remained agonizing inches away.

He moved closer in slow motion, our lips a hairbreadth apart.

I only had to stand on my tiptoes to reach him, but I wanted him to be the one to close the distance. To join with me.

And he did.

He kissed me with a gentleness I didn’t expect, a hesitancy that surprised me. I kissed him back with more eagerness, and he released a groan
before matching my fervor. His hand on my face moved around to the back of my head, holding me close while his tongue delved into my mouth.

Not only could I feel Collin’s physical response, but I could sense his emotional one as well. He wanted me, badly. But he was also experiencing guilt.

His lips left mine, and he pressed my forehead to his chin. “Ellie.” This time my name was tight and choked.

We remained like that, both of us catching our breath for several excruciating moments, until he removed his hand from the back of my head and retreated a step. Our joined hands were all that kept us connected. But I knew that was next.

His fingers uncurled but his palm still pressed against mine, the power between us too irresistible to release. His eyes, full of regret and hunger, searched mine. Whatever he found was what he needed. Resignation pulled his mouth into a frown and his hand lowered.

I stood in front of him for several shocked seconds, unsure what to do.

Collin took another step back. “You should be protected now.”

The mark on my back might protect me from evil spirits, but what was going to protect my heart from Collin Dailey?

“Okay,” I mumbled. My knees were weak, but I refused to show any sign of his effect on me, other than what I’d already displayed. Although if he was as aware of me as I was of him, he already knew.

Turning away from me, he scooped up his shirt and pulled it over his head. He began picking up the candles, blowing them out and putting them in his bag. The melted wax seeped into the brown bag, dark stains spreading outward. I wondered if I should help him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t bring myself to move from the spot where I stood. After throwing the bowl of henna and the stick into a small plastic bag and putting them in his larger one, he paused in front of me, uncertainty on his face.

“Tomorrow we should get my relic. It’s down in Morehead City. If we’re lucky, we’ll get it right away, but if not… you should probably pack an overnight bag.”

“Okay.” Five minutes ago, that would have sent a thrill through my blood, but now it filled me with dread and regret. Still, it had to be done.

“While you were at work, I put fresh markings outside your doorway and inside around your window frames. You should be okay tonight, but if you need me, feel free to call.”

I nodded, but his suggestion was worthless, and we both knew it. If I were to come face-to-face with a god or spirit, Collin would never get here in time, but what else was he going to say?
If a spirit sneaks in, good luck with that
?

“Your mark…” His voice sounded strained, and his eyes shifted to the corner. “Try not to sleep on it or do anything to smear it. The lemon-sugar juice I sprayed on it will help the henna set, but you need to leave it undisturbed at least until morning. The longer it has to set, the longer it will last.”

“Okay.”

There was nothing left to say so he moved to the door and hesitated. His mouth opened, his jaw working, then he shook his head and left.

I watched the door, standing in the exact spot where he pulled away from me, although I wasn’t sure why on both counts. The last thing I expected was Collin Dailey to walk through my door again tonight. My head was a swirl of emotions I couldn’t sort through, but one rose above the others, bobbing at the surface: rejection. Collin had screwed countless women, but he’d walked away from me.

It didn’t make any sense, but if I let myself really think about him, nothing about Collin Dailey made sense. I knew he’d wanted me, I’d felt the physical proof, yet it wasn’t enough. Why? I knew it wasn’t honor—there wasn’t an honorable bone in his body. So what had stopped him? Why had he felt guilt?

There was no sense dwelling on things I couldn’t control. I was not going to get to the bottom of Collin Dailey’s behavior tonight—as if I ever would—and I was curious what my henna tattoo looked like. I hadn’t had a chance to peek at what he’d drawn on my back in his truck either, so I went to the bathroom and turned my back to the mirror.

The symbol Collin had just applied was as close to the one on his chest as I remembered. The stain on top of my skin was beginning to dry. On my other side was an ink pen drawing of a circle surrounding a square—the Curse Keeper mark on our palms—but also zigzag lines in the center and on
all four sides. Underneath the ink was a faded mark, much more primitive. Three dark slashes that looked like claw marks at an angle. Above the marks was a crescent moon. It was hard to believe an ink drawing had saved my life, but I’d seen just as strange, if not stranger things over the last few days.