Chapter 23 #2
I can feel the goofy smile tugging at my mouth as I watch him walk out of the room and then I catch myself. Ugh, I’m the one being ridiculous now. Blowing out a breath, I turn back to my dads and brace myself for the inevitable.
“I know we never really talked about safe sex,” Dad begins, and I can feel the tips of my ears burning. “You didn’t seem interested in having–”
“Dad, keep your voice down,” I hiss, mortified. Thank god Sam is now in the kitchen and can’t hear this conversation.
“What?” Dad blinks. “Do you have any idea how many of my patients stroll into my clinic with STIs?”
“Yes,” I reply dryly. “Because the Devonshire countryside is such a hotbed of debauchery.”
“People get bored around here, Harrison. There’s not much to do.”
Pops leans in and grins at me. “He’s hot, Harry. I knew you had it in you.”
“I haven’t had it in me yet,” I reply without thinking, then grimace. Where the hell is my inner monologue? I don’t know. Several spectacular orgasms and now my brain-to-mouth filter is suddenly fried.
“You know, Harrison, if you’re going to try anal, preparation is key.” Dad says seriously. “I could send you some links.”
“Please stop talking.”
“I’m just saying that if you and your super-hot boyfriend–”
I squeak. “I didn’t say boyfriend.”
“Oh, is it friends with benefits? Is that what all the kids are calling it these days? Because in our day, we just called it a relationship.”
“Okay, Grandpa.” I roll my eyes. “And no. That’s not what we’re calling it, because we’re both adults.”
“Ohhhh, so you’re sowing your wild oats, then?”
“Pops, please make him stop.” I send my other dad a beseeching look, and he chuckles.
“Come on, honey, time to accept our baby boy’s all grown up. Let him go and have breakfast slash late lunch with that fine-looking, half-naked man.”
“Oh my goddess.” I sigh. “You’re just as bad.”
“Love you, honey.” Pops grins.
“Yeah, I love you both too.”
“We’ll call tomorrow,” Dad yells as Pops takes the phone from him.
“Just as long as you leave my oats out of it,” I mutter, and I hear Pops chuckle again.
“See you later, Harry.”
I hang up the phone and smile, shaking my head. I really lucked out when it came to parents. As annoying and embarrassing as they can be, I love those two more than anything.
Tucking my phone into my pocket, I go in search of Sam and find him moving around the small kitchenette in nothing but a pair of jeans…which I happen to know he’s going commando under.
I’m not actually sure how long I stand there and take in the pure perfection of the man.
His feet are bare, and he’s shirtless. The top button of his jeans is undone, leaving them hanging low on those sculpted hips.
My gaze catches on something I noticed last night, but I didn’t want to mention it in the heat of the moment.
A nasty-looking scar rides high on his torso, right beneath his pec.
“Lost my spleen,” Sam says. My gaze snaps to his.
“I’m so sorry. It was rude of me to stare.” I frown.
“Prickles, there isn’t an inch of my body you haven’t already seen. Go ahead and look.” He leans against the counter as I cross the room towards him.
“What happened?” I ask quietly, my brows drawn down in a frown.
“The official report says that I was in a bar and misread a guy’s intentions, that I came on to him and then, when I wouldn’t take no for an answer, I got my ass handed to me.”
“Okay, now tell me what really happened.”
“I was in a bar, not looking for anything serious, just a hookup. I wasn’t openly out because of my job, so I was always careful, always discreet.
That night, a guy came onto me. He wasn’t my usual type—bigger, buffer, sportier looking, but I was attracted to him.
He was the one to initiate it, flirted hard.
I figured why not. So, when he invited me back to his place, I accepted.
We got outside and started walking, but as we went down a blind alley, he had friends waiting. They jumped me.”
I inhale sharply. “Why?”
“Hate, pure and simple.”
“But what about the guy who was flirting with you?”
“He was the ringleader. Apparently, they did this a lot. He’d go in and draw out gay men until they were alone and vulnerable, then…”
“Sam,” I breathe heavily.
“I was lucky. Some random guys coming from the pub heard the noise and stopped. Otherwise, I actually do think they would’ve killed me.
I ended up with a punctured lung, damaged spleen, bruised kidneys, four broken ribs, a broken collarbone, a dislocated knee, a broken arm, and quite a serious head wound. ”
“Were they charged?” I ask furiously. He shakes his head. “Why not?”
“Because their ringleader, the one who came on to me, was the chief inspector’s son.”
My mouth falls open.
“I tried. I reported them, told the truth, but it was all hushed up and my reputation trashed. They painted me as some kind of sexual predator. The only one who stuck by me, stuck up for me, was Danny, and even he doesn’t know the whole truth.”
“Why?”
“Because it was the only way I could protect him. If he’d stepped in, he’d have been blacklisted just like I was. I didn’t want him to lose the career he loved.”
“You should have told him the truth, Sam,” I say softly. “You know he would have wanted that.”
“I know.” He releases a breath. “But it’s over and done with now. There’s nothing that can be done except move on. I did make sure the guy’s name and photo was circulated amongst the bars, clubs, and safe queer spaces so that men knew to avoid him. Now I just want to get on with my life.”
I lean into his body and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Thank you.” He leans in and kisses me.
It’s a slow slide of tongues, nothing like the intense heat of before. This is all about comfort. I hear the doorbell ring and pull back to catch my breath.
“You expecting anyone?” Sam asks, and I shake my head.
Heading downstairs to the door, I’m aware Sam has followed me. I glance at him, raising a brow.
“Incurably nosy, remember?” He grins, and I roll my eyes, shaking my head.
I open the door, but find no one there. My gaze drops to the ground where I see a small rectangular box without a shipping label. Not even so much as a name or postage stamp on it.
“What’s that?” Sam reaches down, but before he can touch the box, I grab his arm and yank him back.
“Don’t!” I snap. “Don’t touch it.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever is in that box is cursed,” I say quietly as I eye it.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “I can feel it…it’s strong, very strong.”
“What do we do?”
“Can you go into the back room of the shop? On the workbench, you’ll find a pair of black workman’s gloves. Can you bring them to me?”
He ducks inside and, a few seconds later, returns, handing the gloves to me and watching as I pull them on.
“What are those?” He eyes the white symbols painted all over the gloves.
“Sigils.” I reach for the box. “Curses don’t affect me the same way as most people, probably because of my magic, but I’m not completely impervious. These gloves protect me.”
“Would they protect me?” he asks curiously.
I shake my head. “Not enough. You’re susceptible because of the way your gift works. Being able to read objects means you absorb their energy. Trust me, it would be incredibly dangerous for you to touch anything that’s been cursed.”
Picking up the box and handling it as if it were a bomb, I head into the back room of the shop. Whatever is in this box will need to be safely locked in the safe until I can figure out how to neutralise it.
If I can neutralise it.
I’ve never felt anything so strong. The dark energy of it vibrates uncomfortably through my arms.
Sam closes the front door and locks it, then follows me into the back room, flipping on the lights as he goes.
“I wonder who left it on the doorstep?” Sam muses as I grab a box cutter and slice through the tape holding it closed.
“I have no idea,” I mutter, folding back the top and peering inside. “What the–?”
I suck in a sharp breath.
“What is it?”
“It’s just really powerful.”
It’s not a lie. It really is that powerful, but what I haven’t told Sam, what I can’t say out loud, is that I recognise this item.
I reach into the cardboard box and carefully lift out a Victorian music box.
It’s made from polished walnut, the hinges blackening with age.
The lid is decorated with an intricate pattern of leaves and vines inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl.
Protruding from the left-hand side of the box is a small ornate key that, once wound, would power the mechanism, after which the box would play a song once the lid is lifted.
I won’t do either. I don’t know enough about the curse, so to wind the key or open the box would be very foolish.
Tilting the box slightly in the light, I see a name engraved on a small golden plate.
Cordelia.
I’ve seen this very music box in my dreams, sitting on the dressing table in Cordelia’s room. It was one of the only things she brought from India, and the only thing she treasured other than The Book of Lala Khal.
How the hell did it end up here?
“What are you going to do?” Sam asks, breaking my thoughts.
“I need to study it first,” I reply. “I need to know how the curse works in order to break it, which takes time. For now, I’ll lock it in the safe with the other cursed items.”
“Harrison,” he says seriously, “are you okay?”
I shake my head. I want to tell him everything, I want to let it all spill out of me, but the words won’t come.
“It’s just worrying. I’ve never felt magic on this level before, which is why I’ll have to be very cautious with it.”
“I don’t like it.” He frowns. “How did it end up on your doorstep with no note or instructions or anything?”
“I do have a bit of a reputation in certain circles. There are very few curse-breakers. It takes a very specialised set of skills and a level of magic most don’t possess.”
Sam exhales slowly. “Better get it in the safe, then, if it’s that dangerous.”