Cursed in Love (Nora Moss Book 1)

by Zoe Ashwood

  “He’ll come,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “I know it.”

  In the departures terminal of Charles de Gaulle Airport, we’re once again standing under those horrible white lights that glare down on us, exposing and accusing, even though the sun is barely setting outside. Our baggage is checked in, and we really need to get through security if we’re going to catch our flight.

  “He’s not coming,” I say. “Let’s just go.”

  Raphaël hasn’t arrived yet, and he hasn’t called or texted either. I check my phone again just to be sure, but I have no new notifications. My throat constricts, and I swallow thickly. He’s not coming.

  I grab Levi’s hand. “Come on. We’d better get moving.”

  But he’s staring somewhere behind me, over the heads of the dozens of people who are rushing this way and that, trying to reach their various destinations.

  “Wait,” he says, “I think I saw…”

  I stand on my tiptoes, craning my neck. “Where?”

  The crowd parts, and Raphaël emerges like some model in an airline ad. His leather carry-on travel bag is luxurious enough to tell me it cost a great deal of money, but it’s subdued and classy, as is the rest of his attire. His linen trousers and white button-down shirt will be just as perfect in the Egyptian desert as they are in Paris, and his black-framed Ray-Bans somehow give him that effortless French vibe that men all around the globe are always trying to emulate.

  Some deep-seated impulse propels me forward, and I rush to hug him tightly. He lets out a surprised breath, then wraps one arm around me, crushing me to his chest.

  I’d forgotten how good he smells. When we were together, I could never figure out what kind of aftershave he wore, but now that I know he’s a vampire, I suspect it might be his natural fragrance.

  Conscious of the ticking clock, I pull back, and he lets me go, though his hand lingers at my waist a moment longer than necessary.

  “Thank you for coming,” I say quietly. “It means a lot to me.”

  He dips his head. “I could use an adventure.”

  I grin at him, and it’s suddenly like it used to be, us standing so close, sharing smiles and—

  “Hello, Levi,” Raphaël says.

  I jerk back from Raphaël and face Levi, my cheeks burning. I’ve done nothing wrong, but it feels inappropriate to be hugging my ex-boyfriend while my current-maybe-boyfriend is standing just feet away.

  Levi’s expression would look neutral to anyone watching him, but I know him too well. For just a second, a muscle ticks in his jaw before he draws in a deep breath and relaxes.

  “Raphaël,” he replies. “We’re cutting it close. Time to go.”

  It turns out Raphaël has already checked in online, so we hustle through security and rush past endless shops selling everything from Eiffel Tower replicas and macarons to perfumes and luxury watches. Our plane is boarding when we arrive at the gate, and we follow the line of people through the tube feeding straight into the aircraft.

  Levi and I find our seats at the rear of the plane, but Raphaël shows his ticket to a smiling air hostess, and she points him in the other direction.

  “La première est à droite, monsieur,” she says.

  My high school French is just good enough that I understand she’s sending him to the first class seats. Raphaël gives me an apologetic shrug and disappears behind a curtain.

  “Great,” Levi says as he tries to fit his legs in the cramped space. “Just perfect.”

  I bite my lip to hide my smile. “Are you okay? You can turn toward me, I don’t need that much room.”

  He gives me a baleful glare. “I bet they have enough room in first class. Why are we flying economy if you have access to my credit card?”

  “I’m sorry! When I made the reservations, I didn’t want to spend all this money on a detour that might not lead to anything.”

  It’s true that he’s given me use of the generous fund he’d received from his parents when he finished his degree. But this is my project, and it feels wrong to spend his money for it, even if he says he doesn’t want it for himself.

  Levi growls. “From now on, my condition for following you all around Europe on this crazy mission is that we fly in style.”

  “Deal,” I say. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The plane takes off, and Levi unclips his seat belt the moment the little overhead signs turn dark. Then he lifts the armrest between our seats and draws me closer, so I’m half leaning on him.

  “That’s better,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck.

  I send a glance at the middle-aged man in the seat next to me. He put in earphones and slipped on an eye mask the moment we boarded and hasn’t moved since.

  I take Levi’s palm and interlace our fingers. “What happens now?”

  He’s silent for a moment, completely still next to me. My question is broad enough that he could give me an answer about the trip, the competition, or something in between, but he seems to know that I meant us.

  “Hm,” he says finally. “I’m not sure. But I like this.”

  He brushes my braid to the side and kisses my neck again. The rough stubble on his jaw scratches my skin in the most delicious way.

  “Do we have to make a plan?” he adds. “I’m always with you, no matter what happens. So we can give things…time to evolve. See what feels good.”

  This definitely feels good. So much so that my nipples tighten and my breath catches in my throat. His fingers clench around mine, and he brings them to his lips, kissing each knuckle softly. His other hand finds my waist, and he slides his fingers under the hem of my top. I gasp, tensing, but there’s no one to see us. No one is paying us any mind.

  Levi doesn’t do anything inappropriate to me, but by the time the air hostess rolls around with her trolley, offering us overpriced coffee that smells slightly charred, I’m a trembling mess. And Levi knows it. The devilish gleam in his eyes tells me he wants to take this farther, and the looks he gives me promise all sorts of wicked things in the future.

  Damn.

  I’m not sure how I’ll navigate this situation. Even without hooking up with my best friend, the following three weeks will be the most demanding and dangerous in my life. But with Levi and Raphaël both accompanying me?

  I wonder if I can do this at all.

  Twelve

  Levi

  The car rental counter at the Cairo International Airport is in chaos. We weave through clusters of tourists and locals arguing in a myriad of languages until Raphaël stops and grabs Nora’s arm to yank her back.

  “We’re not getting a car tonight,” he says.

  She frowns up at him. “What? We need to get—”

  I peer at the lines of customers waiting in front of the booths of various car rental companies. To complete our mission, we’ll likely need an off-road vehicle of some sort. This airport is large, and we should have our pick of vehicles. But none of the lines are moving forward, and several police officers stand in the corner of the hall, talking to a man in a suit who’s waving his arms around, clearly upset.

  “Something happened to all the cars in the rental garages,” Raphaël says, his head cocked to the side.

  He’s listening in on someone’s conversation. Narrowing my eyes, I try to gauge who—and realize he’s eavesdropping on the police. They’re at least forty feet away from us, and with so many people talking all at once in the large hall, there’s no way a human would be able to hear that conversation.

  But he’s not human.

  Nora looks up at him with serious brown eyes. “Did they say what happened?”

  Raphaël is silent for a moment, then says, “Someone cut all the brake lines. But the security cameras didn’t catch anything.”

  I catch Nora’s gaze. “Do you think…?”

  Her expression darkens. “Witches. For sure.”

  Raphaël focuses back on us. “How’s that possible? I thought you only influenced people.” />
  Nora and I exchange a glance. Explaining magic to a vampire was never a part of our deal, but we brought Raphaël into our team for a reason. I don’t trust him, but I trust Nora’s judgment, so I give her a small shrug.

  “Magic takes on many different forms,” Nora says under her breath. “Levi is a curse-breaker, I can work on people’s minds and emotions, and Levi’s dad is a healer, for example. If we’re right about what’s happening here, someone might have used magic to cut through the brake lines. Maybe they burned through. Or used some sort of telekinesis. It’s hard to tell.”

  “It might also be a show of strength,” I add. “A spell with that sort of precision would have been very difficult to wield. It would have been easier to create a spark of fire in each of the cars’ fuel tanks.”

  Raphaël’s eyes widen. “They could have exploded the entire garage?”

  Nora grimaces. “We don’t know. Witches usually don’t share the extent of their power with others.”

  Whoever did this is dangerous—but not a full-on threat to the human population. Whether it’s local witches who want to prevent any team from succeeding in Egypt or another team of contestants looking to slow down their rivals, this is a complication.

  “Come on,” Raphaël says. “Let’s get a taxi before everyone in here gets the same idea.”

  He leads the way outside and veers off toward the taxi terminal.

  Nora jogs after him. “We can’t take a taxi into the desert!”

  Raphaël shoots her a grin over his shoulder. “We’re not. I know someone in the city who might be able to help. But not tonight. You two need rest.”

  When Nora goes to object, I put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

  “He’s not wrong,” I say.

  “But the full moon—” she starts to say.

  “Isn’t for another twenty-six days.”

  My thoughts are fuzzy with the lack of sleep, and I just want to crash somewhere safe and deal with all of this tomorrow.

  Nora looks from me to Raphaël and back. Then she stifles a massive yawn and concedes. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  The hotel in Cairo Raphaël takes us to is deceptively small, especially in the dark. It’s set in a very green part of the city not far off the river Nile. The building is indistinguishable from the rest on the street, a white-washed house built a hundred years ago or more. But the moment we step through the thick wooden doors that secure its entrance, we find ourselves in a different world.

  The inside of the hotel could more accurately be called a palace. The unassuming walls hide a moonlit garden straight out of The Thousand and One Nights, and the hotel lobby is draped in silks in deep jewel colors with gold accents. The lamps are still lit despite the late hour, placed strategically throughout the space to create intimate niches of semi-darkness where low tables are surrounded by colorful poufs. A couple of those are taken, and guests sip tea from small, gold-decorated glasses.

  I inhale the scent of mint and incense, and some of the tension from the long day rolls off my shoulders.

  “Mr. Aubert,” the dark-haired receptionist greets Raphaël in impeccable English. She doesn’t comment on our late arrival—or the fact that we don’t have a reservation. Instead, she says, “Welcome back.”

  They quietly discuss our room arrangements, and Nora sidles over to me, her eyes wide with wonder.

  “Wow,” she whispers. “You have to admit, this is pretty cool.”

  I can’t disagree with her. I could have booked us rooms in any luxury hotel in Cairo, but to find something like this, you need to know the city. And from the way Raphaël has handled everything since our plane touched down, it’s clear that he’s spent a lot of time here. It’s not easy to admit, but I want to know more about the guy. His calm, collected manner is the complete opposite to the ravenous supernatural creature we saw in his gallery in Paris, so I wonder what makes the vampire snap from one extreme to the other.

  Raphaël appears in that moment, holding out three key cards. “Our rooms are next to each other. But only two of them have a connecting door.” He lifts his eyebrows. “I don’t think I’m wrong in assuming you two will want those?”

  Nora flushes a bright pink, but she plucks two key cards from his extended hand. “Nope, that’s fine. You’ll want your privacy, too.”

  He narrows his eyes at her but chooses not to comment. A porter takes our baggage up to our rooms, and we climb a wide marble staircase to the first floor. Raphaël enters his room with a quick jerk of his head—I don’t know if he’s tired or just making himself scarce, but I’m grateful. I want to be alone with Nora.

  I turn to her, and she’s watching me with big brown eyes, her expression open and…excited? Or is it nervous?

  Probably a little bit of both, and those same feelings roil inside my gut, too. We’ve shared rooms so many times over the years, and tents, cabins, trailers, and gods know how many other places. The choice never meant as much as it does now.

  Nora slowly advances, stopping a foot away from me. She worries her lower lip with her teeth and peers up at me through her lashes. Desire thrums in my veins, drowning out any lingering apprehension over fucking up our relationship—our little chat on the plane told me everything I need to know. She wants this, too, and that’s enough for me.

  She unlocks the door with a swipe of her key card, and I follow her inside. I barely have a chance to see the room—spacious, beautiful, and luxurious—before Nora launches herself at me, slamming me back against the warm wood of the door. Her palm finds the back of my neck, and she pulls me down for a kiss.

  Her lips are soft and insistent. She’s brave, more direct than before, and her tongue touches mine mere seconds after she kisses me. I groan, unable to stop the sound, burying my hands in her hair. Her braid is coming undone, and I tug at the tie, letting the glorious mass of curls free. Nora’s kiss deepens, and she presses her body to mine. I’m hard, which is nothing new around her, but this time, fuck, this time, she’s in my arms, she’s right here, and I get to—

  I swallow another groan as she bites my lip, sucking it to soothe the pain. Then I grab her hips and swing us around so she’s leaning on the door. I take her roaming hands and push them to either side of her head, because if she so much as puts a finger on my cock, I won’t last a minute. This needs to be about her, first, because when I let go, I won’t be able to hold back.

  Not after all this time.

  Nora leans her head to the side when I kiss down her neck, and her breath hitches as I suck her pale skin. Instinct roars inside me to mark her, to put so many love bites on her that everyone will know she’s mine, and I will, just not on this very visible part of her body, where she might get embarrassed about it.

  Grinning down at her, I release her hands and quickly undo the button and zipper on her sexy-as-fuck black pants. They hug her ass so perfectly, it’s almost a crime to remove them, but I want her naked, bare.

  Nora’s chest rises and falls with quick breaths, and her tongue darts out to wet her well-kissed lips. I take her mouth again, rougher than before, and she gasps, clutching my arms, clinging on to me.

  Then she wrenches herself back. “Shower!”

  I blink, halting for a second. “What?”

  She lets out a huff, which is half-moan, half-laugh. “We’ve been traveling all day. I need a shower first.”

  Closing my eyes, I lean my forehead against hers. “You’re killing me here, Moss.” Then I grip her chin and look at her seriously. “But if this is too fast, you don’t have to—”

  She puts a hand over my mouth. “It’s not. I just really, really need…”

  “A shower,” I finish for her.

  She dips her chin. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  I let her go, then lean back against the door. I blow out a breath, then I lift my arm and sniff. Yikes. I cringe. Maybe a shower isn’t such a bad idea.

  It’s gratifying that Nora actually only takes a minute or two—the bathroom door opens, and sh
e emerges wrapped only in a large towel, her hair pinned to the top of her head.

  With a growl, I start toward her, because that towel needs to go, but she shrieks and bats my hands away.

  “Get in there!” she orders, laughing.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” I command and shut myself in the bathroom. This will be the shortest shower in the history of showers.

  I’m sure I break all sorts of records, and minutes later, I burst back into the bedroom…to find Nora asleep on the bed.

  She definitely didn’t go anywhere. She’s still wrapped in that towel, leaning back on pillows she arranged. But her head nods to the side, and her limp hand falls from her lap to rest on the covers.

  I sigh, then put on my boxer briefs and a t-shirt. I could wake her up, but given the stress of the past two days, I think she needs sleep more than an orgasm right now.

  I shut off all the lights but the one on the bedside table. Carefully, I pull back the covers, then try to shuffle her lower in the bed without waking her. But Nora’s eyelashes flutter, and she peers up at me, her expression soft, her gaze confused.

  “Levi?” she murmurs.

  “Yeah. Go back to sleep.” I tuck the towel around her body, then tug the sheet to her chin.

  Her hand comes up, and she grasps my wrist lightly—her fingers slip away as she sinks back into dreamland.

  “Stay,” she says.

  I stand beside her bed, frozen for a moment. I wanted to leave her to rest and go to the adjoining room to sleep alone. I hadn’t thought… Sleeping with Nora is completely different than spending the night exploring each other, learning what brings us pleasure.

  But this is Nora. I’ve never been able to deny her anything. I turn off the last lamp and settle in for a sleepless night, staring at the ceiling with my hands behind my head.

  The bed dips, and in a rustle of luxurious cotton sheets, Nora sleepily rolls over to me. Her warm, soft palm finds my chest, and her exhale tickles the skin of my arm. Almost instinctively, I pull her into a side-hug, and she settles against me as though we’ve done this a thousand times.