Chapter 17
Sleep claims me like a great clawed beast three steps from the bedroom door. I go down in a deadweight, my shoulder hitting the ground first and softening the blow to my skull. There I lie until a soft tsk wakes me.
The warm embrace of Valen’s magic lifts me into his arms. Underneath the blood and acrid odor of spent magic is the lingering scent of his cologne. I breathe in the spice deeply, my nose pressing against the base of his throat. My exhale brushes over it and his skin ripples in goosebumps.
I blink and the softness of the bed heats me, the thick blankets pulled nearly to my chin.
My arms burn and my breath shudders. Sweat slicks my hair and my throat works rhythmically.
Hands soothe me and tip my head back. A blurry vision of blue eyes and dark hair flashes before my dry eyes.
Sickly sweet potions fill my mouth and it takes me a moment to gulp them down.
Another blink and those blue eyes are now honey brown. Something that has a sharp zest with curd lumps is in my mouth. I grimace and swallow. The tang dissolves and my knotted stomach releases. I sigh blissfully, tilting my head back to sink deep in the pillows.
I shift. My bandages unwind. Icy cool ointment eases the raw and burning curse scars. Magic shivers over me. My skin tightens and pulls. Slowly, I’m knitted back together until there’s nothing but pink lines.
I smile as a soft cloth wipes away the dirt and blood.
Euphoric bliss hums delightfully in my skull.
I reach out, catching Valen by the back of the neck when he leans over me to continue his cleansing.
With a tug, he lowers easily and his warm mouth slides over mine.
I hum into the familiarity of the kiss, the heat licking up my insides.
His hand catches in my chemise when he runs up it, stopping below the curse scar under my left breast.
Slowly, he disentangles himself and laughs softly against my persistent mouth. “Sleep, Tori.” His fingers wind with mine, careful of where my skin recently knit back together, and pin them on either side of my head. His lips brush mine. “Later.”
Then he pulls back, leaving me cold and bereft.
My hands twitch, feeling better, and I reach for him again when the bed shifts.
But the shirt I brush against is different.
There’s no trace of the sharp starch I touched a moment ago, but a soft, worn cotton.
My fists twist in it and I pull, bringing the body down on mine.
I ache less, as if I’ve rested for hours instead of seconds, but the potions’ haze still lingers.
A shocked gasp tingles my lips and I swallow it down with a kiss. It’s different; the lips don’t have the fullness I’m used to, and unshaved scruff scratches my skin. But, oh, how the heat blooms. Greedily, I wind my arms around the wider shoulders, nails cutting into a thicker neck.
The lips I kiss hesitate, the body tugging back, but my tongue slides along the seam and finally they part.
I groan into it and strong hands slide down my arms to slither under my back.
They arch me into the heaviness that falls on me.
My thin chemise does nothing to stop the heat that sears me and my heart does a painful flutter that shivers my breath.
The lips try to pull back, those arms under me shifting to let go, and yet, each of my starved kisses is returned as I press against him.
He shakes his head, either to try to clear it or to disagree, but my teeth sink into his lip and the groan that vibrates draws my rubbing thighs up.
The weight crushes me, his mouth opening, and I slide my tongue in to lick deeply.
That large, strong body shivers, arms tightening, but he suddenly shoves back.
“No. I can’t. It’s wrong.”
The deep, familiar baritone arches me to him, my hands fisting into his shirt in a white-knuckled grip. “Come back…” I tug, but the body doesn’t move closer. “I want you…”
A pain-filled breath sags the shoulders, and for an elated moment, I believe he’s about to fall upon me again, but his strained tone aches my heart. “If only that were true.”
Then he rips out of my hold and a cry of despair chokes me. I reach for the heat blindly, my eyelids still too heavy to lift. Nothing but cold air greets me and my arms flop back down, a sob stretching my chest painfully.
Waking is a nightmare. Cold seizes my chest. I kissed Lucas. And worse, it was incredible.
I squeeze my eyes shut. That kiss—oh fuck, that kiss—was a taste of forbidden fruit. It’s left my body craving more in a visceral, constant ache that pulses between my thighs with each drum of my heart. Fuck!
It was better than I imagined, and I’ve spent many lonely nights imagining it with my hands between my thighs, biting my lip to keep from crying out his name.
Now, it’s all I can think about, all I can breathe.
We’ve kissed once and we’re bound to do it again.
Hell, I wasn’t supposed to kiss Valen, and he finger fucked me until I came in front of my friend.
How are we supposed to go back to normal now? Is it even possible?
There’s only one thing I can do to save the partnership.
With a deep, trembling breath, I permit myself to relive Lucas’ kiss for one last moment.
One moment of feeling the weighted heat of him, the slide of his lips, the sound of his groan, and then I shove it away.
Violently. I force it deep into my mind, gathering the memory of the library with it, until I slam them into a lockbox.
I release my exhale in a rush, body going lax from the mental effort. I was high on potions. That is all. And when he brings it up, I’ll act confused. It’s what must be done for our friendship. For Peripeteia.
Slowly, I open my eyes and ease up to sitting.
“How are you feeling?” says a voice to my right.
My neck cracks from the force of whipping around.
I hiss, rubbing it, and Valen’s lips tilt in amusement.
One of the armchairs is pulled up to the bed and he rests elegantly in it with a book propped up on his knee.
Once again, he’s in his black slacks and white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow.
I clear my throat, the pressure between my thighs worsening. “Better.” My voice rasps terribly. I reach for the water glass on the bedside table and down it. “How long was I out?”
“A day and a half. Your body needed time to heal.”
I peek down at myself. My flesh is better; I hadn’t hallucinated that part. I rotate my shoulders and wrists. There’s only a slight twinge at the joints. “You do good work.”
“Thank you.”
I turn a wry eye on him. “You should’ve been a healer.”
He offers me a half smile. “If only.” This was a fight he had with his father years ago; Valen has a passion for the healing arts, but it’s not what Vincentius envisioned for his son.
I’d always hoped Valen wouldn’t permit his father to crush his dream, but there’s nothing I can do about that.
It’s a battle Valen will have to face on his own.
I nod towards his book. “What are you reading?”
His hand slides over the page. “A detailed account of the toxic miasma within the Peradin Swamps.”
I raise my brows. “Oh?”
“It’s quite fascinating. The miasma is extremely poisonous and has no cure. However, the Peradi people learned that if they lick the bullfrogs that inhabit the edges of the swamp, then they can pass through safely.”
“That’s… interesting. I wonder why.” My fingers trail over the pink scarring where the curse ruptured my flesh.
“Because the bullfrogs’ mucus is also toxic, with a similar strain of poison, but there’s a cure to it.” His eyes sharpen. “Once the body is infected with the mucus’ toxins, there’s nothing left for the miasma to corrupt. By poisoning themselves, they can breathe the miasma without further harm.”
My fingers pause on forking tendrils of scarring on my wrist, my eyes flicking up to meet Valen’s penetrative gaze. Silence rings, both of us waiting for the other to reveal their cards first.
Valen’s voice lowers but is somehow loud in the silence. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Astoria?”
My heart pounds. “I’m not sure what—”
“No one can be a conduit to curses and live. The curse, like electricity, will go through the two points of the body in the most efficient way possible, and that is always through the heart. The curse cannot resist feeding from the soul and magic within. That is what makes a curse a curse.” His eyes trail to where my chemise hides the scar that loops on my left side.
“And you forced three curses around all that tasty power and out through you.”
I slip on a cocky smirk. “Are you doubting my capability? I handle curses all day, every day. I’m exceptionally skilled.”
“I’m not saying you lack skill.” His eyes glimmer with threat. “I’m saying that you cannot will curses away from the soul. That is, unless what you have is not worth the trouble. It makes me wonder, what makes your heart so undesirable?”
He doesn’t mean the words as an insult, but I flinch, nonetheless.
Valen is too smart to lie to about these things, and he’s had time to research the issue while I was unconscious.
He must suspect more than he’s letting on.
Maybe he’s seen something at the Archweaver’s estate and is connecting the dots. My hands tighten in the sheets.
He says softly, “I can help you if you tell me.”
My breath catches and I nearly laugh. He can’t help me.
No one can. I can only help myself. “It’s nothing.
Your suspicions are correct. I’m infected with a minor curse, but it’s nothing too worrisome.
It guards my heart, so I can do the work I need to.
” The lie slides smoothly off my tongue. “I can end it if I want.”
Valen’s tongue clicks. “You cursed… yourself.”
The stupidity is blatant, but it’s better than the truth. “Yes.”