Curse Touched: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (A Touch of Vampire Book 2)

by Becky Moynihan

  9

  KENNA

  I pressed redial. Again. I tried to text. Again. But no matter how many times I attempted to reach my aunt, nothing went through.

  I wasn’t stupid. I’d already considered the possibility that Clarice had disconnected my phone to discourage me from conversing more with vampires. And that, whether true or not, only amplified my distress. Until the painful emotions pressing on my chest became unbearable and I threw the phone across the room, screaming my frustration and rage.

  “Useless phone!” It struck the wall and cracked against the floor.

  I’d spent hours with Noah, grilling him for details until I knew, without a shadow of doubt, that the family he’d talked about had been mine.

  My poor parents.

  Murdered.

  They hadn’t died in a freak plane crash, but were killed in my own front yard. In the very spot I’d been in only two days ago.

  But where had I been on that day? Inside, completely oblivious that my mom and dad lay dead just yards away? I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t remember anything about that day.

  Aunt Tess did though. She said she’d been babysitting me the day they died. But on my birthday? I’d been told their plane went down a month after my birthday. I had even looked up information about the crash online.

  January fourth, a Boeing passenger airliner crashed into the Atlantic Ocean from engine failure. Due to the icy temperature, there were no survivors. My parents’ bodies were never recovered.

  I had believed her. I had believed my aunt’s stories without question. Why had she kept this from me? Did she know who had murdered them?

  The mystery behind my parents’ deaths was ripping open old scars. It was like losing them all over again.

  Unable to call my aunt due to the dud phone that now lay cracked on the hardwood floor, I had no outlet for my boiling emotions. Worse, the sizzling in my veins that I could only guess was Noah’s magic had intensified with each passing hour.

  Because of my injury, I’d been excused from the rest of my afternoon classes and had taken dinner in my room. But resting was impossible. I needed out. Out of this room. Out of this isolation. Out of my skin.

  I stopped pacing, suddenly knowing what I needed.

  A distraction from the pain. A goal. A purpose.

  Marching from the room, I sought out Malcolm. Sure enough, he was directly outside the office, guarding the hallway. Surprise flickered in his dark eyes, but other than that, he didn’t react to my disheveled presence.

  “Aren’t you ever going to sleep?” I told him, then sighed when he mutely stared at me. “Never mind. I need you to take me to Noah.” At his blank look, I snapped, “The Defensive Arts instructor? Mr. Andrews? The guy with the long, blond hair?”

  Okay, I might have gone a bit too far.

  Malcolm studied me impassively a moment more before saying, “It’s almost lights out.”

  “Okay, but it’ll only take me a few minutes. I just need to speak with him.”

  It was another torturous moment before he nodded, beckoning me to follow him. I paid close attention to the path we took, knowing that I planned to traverse it again. Maybe several times, depending on how this evening went.

  Malcolm remained silent, which was perfectly fine by me. He didn’t have the answers I now sought. I didn’t need him for anything other than being my personal GPS. If a student chose this moment to corner and bully me, I wouldn’t need Malcolm to protect me.

  I had enough rage festering inside that I knew anyone who approached me would immediately regret it. I was not in the mood.

  So when Malcolm paused at a doorway and said, “He should be in there. He usually works out in the evenings,” I made a shooing gesture, replying, “Thanks, I’ve got it from here. I know the way back, so you can go take a nap or whatever.”

  I didn’t wait to see how he’d react to the dismissal, already shoving through the door. The sound of someone wailing on a punching bag greeted me upon entering what looked to be an exercise room. An impressively large, rounded space with a domed ceiling. We must be in one of the terrets.

  Noah’s back was to me, and I ground to a halt when I saw that he was naked from the waist up. Sweat glistened on his corded muscles, sliding down the groove of his spine. When I realized how long I stood there watching him hit the bag, heat crawled up my neck. I could appreciate sweaty muscles as much as the next girl, but being alone with him like this felt kind of . . . intimate.

  And wrong.

  I shouldn’t be here. It felt like a betrayal, although I had no idea why. It’s not like I was dating anyone.

  Unless the intense bond you share with a darkly brooding vampire counts. Unless his pursuit in giving you orgasms means more than just lust.

  Freaking crap, why did my mind have to go there?

  “Earth to Kenna. Where’d you go?”

  I bit back a yelp at the unexpected voice, realizing too late that Noah had caught me staring. Somehow, I’d missed his approach. He was waving a hand in front of my face like I’d zoned out. Except I had zoned out, too busy remembering the ways Lochlan had pleasured me. Okay, this had been a bad idea. Now Noah probably thought I was a creeper.

  “Uh, yeah, sorry about that,” I stammered, scrubbing my damp palms on my pajama pants. Crap, I was in my pjs! I’d officially lost it. “I wasn’t staring at you or anything. I mean, I was, but I wasn’t—”

  Okay, someone please bury me.

  It didn’t help that Noah’s toned chest was on full display, glittering enticingly. More hair had escaped its tether, sticking to his jaw and neck. And when I peeked up at his face, his lips were twisted with wicked amusement.

  “As a rule,” he said, undoing the velcro on his boxing gloves, “friends of my kid sister are off limits. Isla would kill me if I made a pass at you. I’m tempted, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not worth risking her wrath.”

  My eyes practically bugged out of my head. “That’s not . . . I didn’t come here to . . . Okay, no. Don’t worry, I’m not interested.”

  “Ouch. Must be off my game,” he said, removing his gloves with a pout. “Or maybe you’re already taken. Yes, that explains it. Who’s the lucky fellow?”

  “What? No,” I sputtered, unable to stop a blush from staining my cheeks. “I just—”

  When he snickered under his breath, I immediately stopped flapping my mouth, realizing that he’d been teasing me this whole time.

  “Jerk,” I cried, punching his arm. He staggered back and I gasped, checking my hands for any sign of the red glow. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Relaaax, baby witch,” he drawled. “You didn’t hurt me. I was only playing. You’re wound up tighter than a nun in a stripclub.”

  “What the—? I can’t believe you just said that!”

  “What?” he said with a shrug. “I’m off the clock. What I say in my free time can’t be held against me.”

  “How old are you again? Ugh, you’re like the male version of Isla with the inappropriate jokes.” When he opened his mouth, clearly ready to spew more, I yanked up a hand. “Okay, stop. I can see now why you’ve been dubbed a troublemaker. Lesson learned. But I came here because I need you.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Need me to do what, exactly?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t start again. I need you to train me.”

  “Well, that’s what my Defensive Arts class is for. It won’t always be like today. Clarice just wanted to—”

  “No, no, I need you to train me,” I said, jabbing a finger at my chest. “Just you and me. I need to learn how to be a Syphon. To control what goes in and out. I’m afraid of touching people, Noah. I know that I hurt you today. No, don’t deny it. I. Hurt. People. My skin is toxic and I hate it.” I took a moment to steady my erratic breathing, adding more quietly, “So I need you. I need you to teach me how to control who I am so I won’t accidentally hurt anyone. Can you do that?”

  Noah studied my face, all traces of teasing
gone. Then, a slow smile curved his lips and he said, “Can I do it? Well, those just happen to be the magic words, baby witch, because my response will always be ‘of course I can.’”

  * * *

  “Concentrate, Kenna. You won’t be able to control anything if your emotions are distracting you. Are you remembering your anchor? Feed your abilities through that imaginary sieve. Don’t suck up the magic all at once.”

  “I know,” I gritted out, releasing the glass orb with a frustrated sigh. In a matter of minutes, I’d sucked the thing dry of all magic. No amount of breathing exercises had helped slow down the intake. It was like my skin was parched for all things supernatural. It greedily inhaled every last drop of magic and essence.

  Noah was still recovering from touching me yesterday, so our first one-on-one lesson after classes involved me trying to control how much energy I took from magically-imbued objects. Needless to say, it wasn’t going well. I’d drained every single one.

  “Where’s all the magic going anyway?” I asked him, flopping back onto the training mat. “You’d think it would be spilling out of me by now, like an overflowing gas tank.”

  “Maybe you have a hollow leg.”

  I glared up at him.

  “Look, magic isn’t tangible like water. It’s more molecular. A feeling. Kinda like the force.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never watched Star Wars.” At my blank look, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Think of magic as particles of energy. You can’t see it, except for when it’s released—or absorbed, in your case. Magic is infinite, impossible to measure. Now, if you’re wondering what absorbing magic from different sources in a very short amount of time will do to you, I have no idea. Usually too many ingredients in a science experiment cause an explosion, so . . .”

  “What?” I snapped into a sitting position. “I could explode?”

  “Um . . .”

  “Noah!”

  “Cool your jets, K-Bug, you won’t explode. Probably. Look, no one knows much about Syphon abilities and their limitations. They’ve always been rather reclusive in the past and reluctant to share their secrets. What we do know is that they’re insatiable. Without the ability to produce magic of their own, they instinctively latch onto anything that does. Kind of like—”

  “Leeches?” I quietly finished for him, my panic replaced with shame.

  He frowned down at me, then crouched to my eye level. “Are the students still giving you a hard time?”

  I snorted. “What do you think? I’ve been asked at least a dozen times today to prove that I’m a Syphon. Despite that, most give me a wide berth in the hallways, afraid I’ll bump into them. I get it, though. I can handle their hostility. What I can’t handle is being a leech.”

  “You’re not a leech.”

  “Oh?” I raised a hand toward him and he noticeably stiffened. I dropped my arm in defeat. “I don’t want to be like this. But I don’t want to be weak and defenseless either.”

  “Then you don’t give up.”

  “I’m not. I’m just—”

  “Feeling sorry for yourself?”

  I gaped at him, hurt by his censor.

  He stood, towering over me. “Do you know why I’m the Defensive Arts instructor? Because I never back down from a challenge. I know my strengths and play to them. As a Cosmic, I’m able to draw on both the sun and moon for power, even the universe itself under the right conditions. But the stars have to be properly aligned first. If I attempt a spell and the timing isn’t right, my magic will be weak. I have to listen and trust that my magic knows better than I do.

  “But I’ve failed plenty,” he continued brusquely. “I’ve failed hard and had to try again and again. And what I want to know is can you handle that? Can you handle failing over and over? Because you will. You’ll fail, and rumors will fly, and gossip will be vicious. But you won’t stay knocked down. You won’t hide who you are and you won’t admit defeat. Think you can do that?”

  I blinked up at him, realizing then that I’d underestimated Isla’s big, troublemaking brother. Perhaps Headmistress Mayweather did too. He deserved a lot more respect than he was given around here.

  So, without hesitation, I stood to squarely face him. And despite my confidence being shot—despite my fear and uncertainty—said, “Of course I can.”

  10

  KENNA

  Finally, after years of waiting, the day had arrived.

  I was eighteen years old.

  I’d dreamt of this day for so long, planned how I would execute the first hours of my legal adult freedom. Maybe move in with a friend, or rent a cheap apartment. I’d have to get a job to pay the bills, of course, but no one would stop me from doing so.

  That was the thing about big dreams and plans, though. They often fell apart. At least for me, anyway. And today was no exception.

  It didn’t unravel all at once, but in torturously slow increments. First came the whispers that vampires were outside the wards. Up and down the halls, in every classroom and dark corner, the rumors flew. Until the school was in an uproar. Classes were dismissed early. Students were ordered to their dormitory wings until further notice.

  Cut off from everyone, alone in my isolated room with no way to communicate, I nervously paced for hours.

  Had the vampire king found out I was here? Was the school under attack? What if Kade had returned? What if he came to tell me that Lochlan was . . .

  No. Don’t think it, don’t think it.

  But I already had. That Lochlan was dead. And the weight of that possibility suffocated me.

  The thought of never hearing his silken voice again, of never gazing into his darkly intense eyes or seeing that elusive left dimple of his. Of never witnessing his fierce protectiveness or rare show of gentleness. Of never feeling his touch . . .

  I couldn’t breathe.

  But my bodily reaction was illogical in light of everything I’d discovered about him. I knew this, but couldn’t suppress how I felt. And the more I thought about him, the deeper the pit grew behind my sternum until I had to press both hands over my chest, afraid that I’d get sucked into the vast empty hole.

  Malcolm delivered my lunch and dinner, but I had no appetite. I’d tried to pester information out of him to no avail, and without answers, even the new sketchpad I’d received held no appeal. Without the ability to keep my mind busy, all the old hurts and traumas of the past came back to haunt me.

  By the time night crept through the room’s window, I was a mess of loneliness and anxious exhaustion.

  The moment I heard hushed voices coming from Clarice’s office, I rushed to the bedroom door and yanked it open. Nautilus cawed at my abrupt intrusion, lifting into the air to seek refuge on his corner perch. The headmistress turned from her conversation with Malcolm, her usual smile for me absent. In its place was a quizzical frown.

  “Kenna, come in. I need to speak with you.”

  I watched her glide across the room toward her desk, a small package tucked beneath her arm. But there was something off about her movements. Stiffer. Less confident. She waited for me to join her, then settled into her chair, placing the wrapped parcel on the desk.

  “I have some troubling news to share,” she began, removing her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose. “The drothen, Kade, has returned. But he didn’t come alone. The princes are here too, and they are far less agreeable. They’re demanding you be released to them right away.”

  My throat closed, and I gripped the armrests of my chair. It took everything in me not to ask which princes were here, to demand she tell me if Lochlan was one of them. “And what did you say?” was all I asked, hoping she’d tell me on her own.

  “That for the purposes of your safety, our elders and their king must be made aware of the situation first. I cannot in good conscience allow you to leave Thornecrest Academy without a few protocols in place. For too many years, the Demonic Trinity has used Syphons with not enough input from us witches.
That ends now. They won’t go anywhere near you without my consent.

  “That is,” she added softly, “if you decide to help protect the supernatural world from exposure by finding a way to break the curse.”

  Wow. Apparently the time for decision-making had come to an end. I knew what Clarice wanted me to do. She’d made that perfectly clear. Still, I wondered what would happen if I said no—to all of it. A big part of me was dying to know, to announce that I was eighteen and chose option C: none of the above.

  But I needed someone in my corner. I needed someone to smile at me and express their gratitude for all that I did. I wasn’t a child desperate for an adult’s attention and approval anymore, but I also didn’t want to keep disappointing them. I’d thrown away everything Aunt Tess had done for me by keeping secrets and making selfish decisions. I’d ruined any connection I could have had with her and didn’t want to make that same mistake with the woman across the desk from me.

  So, as much as it pained me to put my future plans on hold, I heard myself say, “I’d like to meet with the elders as soon as possible. I want to do what I can to help.”

  Sure enough, she beamed at me. The sight both warmed and chilled me.

  “I’m so happy to hear that, Kenna. Witches everywhere will be most grateful for your sacrifice to the cause. Also, I hear congratulations are in order. Happy Birthday. Your aunt phoned me and said to pass on the sentiment.”

  Stunned, I didn’t immediately respond. Aunt Tess had called . . . and didn’t ask to speak to me? I knew she was upset with me, but not this much. She’d always celebrated my birthday with cake and presents, even if it was only the two of us. Now, she couldn’t even be bothered to speak with me? I tried to swallow, and couldn’t. “Um . . . thanks.”

  Clarice’s smile turned sympathetic. “It’s been a stressful day. Get some rest. I’ll contact the elders and set up a meeting first thing in the morning. Oh, and this is for you,” she said, sliding the package toward me. “I agreed to give it to you if the princes agreed not to test our wards. And before you worry, I made sure there was nothing harmful inside. The contents are safe.”