Cursed in Love (Nora Moss Book 1)

by Zoe Ashwood

Pursing my lips, I help him extricate another bottle of water from his backpack. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, pal, but this water is salty. Who gave this to you?”

  He doesn’t reply. Instead, he uncaps the bottle and guzzles the water in big gulps, his Adam’s apple moving with each swallow. When he’s nearly done with the bottle, he stops and gives me a sheepish look. “You want some?”

  “Thanks.”

  There’s something weird about this guy, but I can’t figure out what yet. And now’s not a good time for an interrogation, even though I’d love to know what happened with him and that soldier.

  I turn to the pile of rocks and start digging. These stones won’t move themselves, and if Nora is underneath—or on the other side, if she was lucky—I need to get her out.

  The Icelander slowly climbs to his feet and surveys the damage around us. “Where are your friends?” he asks in slightly accented English. “Where did they go?”

  I shift another armful of debris. “They didn’t go anywhere. They’re somewhere in here.”

  He lets out a string of words that I assume are Icelandic curses and drops to his knees beside me. “How long was I out?” he asks as he scoops up great handfuls of the rocks and hauls them away.

  I stop and stare at him. “No idea. I only just woke up. But…you’re helping me?”

  He sends me a stern look. “Your dark-haired friend.”

  He pauses, motioning with his hand.

  “Raphaël?” I supply.

  “Yes. He stayed behind so I could escape that…that…” He shakes his head as though unable to find adequate words for the god we left behind. “And your wife wrote that note to warn us about the trap in the wall. Even if I wasn’t just a decent person, I’m indebted to them.”

  Oh.

  “Okay. I won’t say no to your help.” Then something else occurs to me. “Her name is Nora, by the way. And I’m Levi.”

  I don’t explain that she’s not my wife—no time for that, either. He grunts in answer and faces the rubble. After that, we talk only little. We dig, and then we dig some more. Soon, my hands are ravaged, my nails torn and bleeding, even though I’ve created a sort of shovel by cutting up one of the broken water containers. Maybe this is all crazy, a voice whispers in my head. What if more of the ceiling caves in? What if Nora and Raphaël are dead already, and we’re just endangering our own lives?

  None of it matters. I keep digging, my breaths coming in short puffs. The dusty, suffocating air presses down on me, fucking with my mind, with my sense of time and space. There’s no telling how far behind us Nora and Raphaël were when the tunnel collapsed, and I curse myself for not making sure Nora was in front of me. She’d stopped to watch Set, trapped by the metal spikes, and the god had committed his final act of wrath.

  Then another horrifying thought occurs to me. Did Set survive? Was he digging himself out, closing in on Nora and Raphaël from the other side? If he reached them first…

  With renewed energy, I haul more rocks away, lifting larger chunks with both hands and removing smaller ones with my impromptu shovel. Einarsson catches my frantic mood, and we speed up, working without stopping.

  “Here!” he calls suddenly, “There’s something here!”

  Stumbling to my feet, I rush to his side. A booted foot pokes up from beneath the rubble, dusty and dirty, but unmistakably male.

  “Raphaël,” I breathe.

  Scrabbling at the rocks, we dig the vampire out. His legs first—one of which lies at a strange angle—then his torso, which looks mostly okay, but has a couple of wounds, and then his shoulders and head.

  Isak snatches his wrist and feels for his pulse. Then he quickly leans over Raphaël’s mouth to listen for his breath. “He’s not breathing! Help me move him back.”

  Before I can stop him, he heaves Raphaël’s body up by the armpits and drags him to a clear stretch of floor. He lays him down with surprising gentleness and sets himself up at his chest.

  “You do the breaths,” he orders sharply. “I’ll do the chest compressions.”

  “No, stop!” I rush forward and grab his hands. “Don’t do that.”

  He goggles at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “He’s not breathing. He doesn’t have a pulse. If we don’t resuscitate him, he’ll die.” Then worry flashes over his face. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head when you fell?”

  I can’t help but snort. “No. Listen, it’s okay. The not breathing and no pulse thing is, uh, kind of permanent for Raphaël.”

  I gently push Isak’s hands away from the vampire’s chest, worried the big man might do more damage, like break Raphaël’s ribs in his valiant attempt to save him.

  “What?” the Icelander says.

  Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I debate whether or not I should give up Raphaël’s secret. But it’s either that or have Isak make the situation worse, so…

  “He’s a vampire,” I say. “I’m hoping he’ll wake up now that he’s not being crushed anymore. I think he just got knocked out.”

  Isak’s mouth drops open. “He’s a what?”

  “A vampire,” I repeat with a little less patience as I return to the pile of debris. “You know, undead. He’s pretty much indestructible, so he’ll be fine. Probably. Now help me find Nora.”

  The Icelander reluctantly leaves Raphaël on the floor and walks over to my side. “You’re serious?” he asks quietly. “I thought vampires were all…well, eradicated.”

  I stab the shovel into the pile. “You and me both, man. Turns out, there’s a lot we don’t know.”

  My arms burn from the repetitive movement, but I don’t stop. There’s nothing to do but scoop and push, shovel and heave. My muscles cramp, my fingers are a bloody mess, and my mouth is so dry I keep choking, but I can’t stop until we find Nora. The tightness in my throat and chest increases with every passing minute. She could be just another shovelful away, buried under all this crap, and I can’t let her stay in there, even though my hope dwindles steadily. It’s been… Fuck. I have no idea how long it’s been since the tunnel collapsed. An hour? Two? Three? How long can a person survive with hundreds of pounds of rock pressing down on them?

  Not long.

  A sound from behind diverts my spiraling thoughts. Looking over my shoulder, I find Raphaël twitching on the floor. His broken leg jerks to the side, then rights itself, and the bone makes an awful grinding sound that will haunt me almost as much as the wet crunch that the mercenary’s body made when Set crushed him in his fist.

  Then the vampire’s eyelids flutter, and a moment later, he’s sitting up, rubbing the dust from his eyes.

  “Hey.” I grab one of the water bottles from Isak’s pack, crack the top, and hand it to Raphaël. “This is weirdly salty but might help you wash off the worst of the grime.”

  He nods in thanks and pours the water over his face until he blinks away the dirt. “Merde. What happened?”

  “The tunnel collapsed,” Isak tells him. “We got out, but Nora is still in there.”

  His grim voice tells me he, too, is losing hope that we’ll find her alive.

  “We’ve been digging and found you first,” I add. “Do you know how far behind us she was? We were pretty close together, but she must have lagged behind to watch that…thing.”

  Raphaël pushes to his hands and knees, then collapses face-first onto the floor. He tries again, and I catch his shoulders and help him get to a standing position. In the white LED light of the headlamp, his skin is gray, and though his leg injury seems to have healed itself, the gash on his forehead hasn’t closed up yet.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. “You don’t look so good.”

  He chokes out a weak laugh. “I need blood. But we have to find Nora first.”

  With a determined frown on his face, he takes a step forward but immediately stumbles. I catch him and lower him to the floor again.

  “Yeah, you should rest.” I pat him awkwardly on the shoulder, then straighten. “We’ll handle the excava
tion.”

  Isak is watching us from several paces away, his face half hidden in shadows. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I’m hoping he won’t be an idiot about Raphaël. Witches aren’t the best at accepting new things, but he could have left me here to deal with all of this myself. Yet he stayed.

  Raphaël catches my hand before I can return to digging.

  “You’re bleeding,” he says in a tight voice.

  Glancing down at my fingernails, I realize they’re even worse than before. Shit, he’s right. Then a thought occurs to me.

  “If I gave you blood, how much stronger would you be than me?” I ask.

  His eyes narrow. “You’re not seriously suggesting…”

  I lift my hands. “I’ve been digging for— Gods, I don’t know. If you have crazy vampire strength, you could do the same work in half the time. I just want to find Nora. I don’t care about—”

  I cut myself off because I do care about being lunch. It’s not something I’d ever do in normal circumstances. But this is about her, and if there’s even the slightest chance we could get her out of there alive, I’ll take it.

  “Can you help?” I ask, my voice rough. “I’m not an earth witch, so I can’t shift this shit with magic.”

  Raphaël swallows thickly. “How about him?” he asks, inclining his head toward Isak.

  The Icelander crosses his arms over his chest. “No earth magic either.”

  There’s something in his face that tells me this isn’t the whole truth, but it’s irrelevant now. It’s time to stop being coy and get shit done.

  “Do you want my blood or not?” I look Raphaël straight in the eyes.

  He jerks his chin down in a nod.

  “Okay,” I say gruffly. “Tell me what to do.”

  He motions for me to sit. “There’s something you should know.”

  I lift my eyebrow at him. “Will it be anything like drinking your blood?”

  “You drank his blood?” Isak Einarsson raises both hands to his head, gripping his dirty blond hair. “What is going on here?”

  Raphaël sighs but ignores him. “Yes, but even more intense. It’s nothing but a chemical reaction to my venom, so there’s no need to feel weird about it.”

  I think back to how amazing that hit of blood had felt and barely stifle my body’s response. “Yeah, that’s fine,” I lie. “What else?”

  “I might get some of your memories from your blood,” Raphaël says in a rush. “But only if you directly think about that. It’s not mind reading, and I can’t go through your memories or anything, but we get…impressions from the people we drink from.”

  That has me leaning back from him. What he’s saying is crazy, but at the same time, he could have just bitten me and gotten his blood, along with my memories, and I would have been none the wiser. That he told me the truth means he’s being upfront about it. Which weirdly makes it better.

  And it’s not like I have huge secrets to hide from him, apart from that one issue with Nora’s mom. I’ll just keep that hidden and think of something else while he has his fangs in me.

  “Okay,” I say. “Do it.”

  He seems skeptical, so I take his shoulders and give him a firm shake.

  “Do it,” I repeat. “Nora’s waiting.”

  I really hope she is. Thinking of anything else right now is too hard.

  “Fine,” he sighs finally. “Give me your wrist.”

  I hold out my hand, relieved. “I thought you were going to bite my neck.”

  In a blink, his eyes turn black and his fangs descend. The look he sends me is charged with something more than just the urgency over our situation.

  “The neck is for lovers,” he says. “We’ll get to that later.”

  Then he bares his teeth, brings my wrist to his mouth, and bites down.

  Thirty-Two

  Raphaël

  The first thought that hits me is that drinking blood from a witch is very different than drinking from a human.

  Levi’s scent, delicious as it is, has nothing on the taste of his blood. The sweet, warm liquid rolls over my tongue like the finest wine and sparks all over my body. Another swallow, and the essence of him explodes in my mouth, dark and potent, sensual and thick. His pulse speeds up, and the blood flows faster, sating the craving inside me. I’d smelled his blood earlier, and I could barely hold myself back.

  To be a vampire today is to always be thirsty. Always hungry, apart from in moments like this, when we can drink the stuff that gives us power. We’ve become civilized and no longer gorge on blood like our ancestors did—that was what nearly brought an end to our species.

  Levi’s gasp has me opening my eyes, and I find his face so close to mine, our foreheads nearly touch. He’s bent forward, one hand braced on the floor, and his eyes are open wide, his full lips parted. And the scent of him…

  Fuck, the scent of him.

  My gaze drops to his lap, where he’s visibly hard. I told him the arousal is a chemical reaction, and it’s true—but in our case, it’s much more than that. I want him, and judging by the way his gaze roams over my face, my body, he’s realizing that what he feels for me isn’t entirely connected to Nora, either.

  With another swallow of blood come his thoughts and memories. He’s wondering about the night we spent in the desert, together in the tent, and how stunning he found the image of Nora and me together. He’s questioning his own sexuality, since he’s never been attracted to a man before. He thinks I’m…

  I almost snort as my image crystallizes in his thoughts. He thinks I’m hot. Twenty-first century men sure are eloquent.

  But Levi’s earnestness is strangely attractive. I never thought bad boys with piercings—and piercing green eyes—would be to my taste, but even at my age, I can still be surprised.

  Now he thinks of Nora, and though his memories of her are tinged with pain because of what just happened, the endorphins coursing through his body courtesy of my venom are enough to spark more lust inside him. He groans in pleasure, and his hips rock forward as though he’s not in control of himself anymore.

  I haven’t taken much from him yet, certainly not enough to completely sate myself, but I don’t want him light-headed after this is over.

  Lifting my mouth from his wrist, I lick my lips. “I’m almost done. Are you still okay?”

  He nods, his eyes hazy. “Yeah, man. I’m good.”

  I bite him again, and he throws his head back.

  “Fuuuuck.”

  His ragged moan nearly has me coming in my pants.

  Then the image of Nora in Levi’s thoughts flickers, and the memory takes on a sour taste—of regret, of shame. I stop drinking. The last thing I want to do is interfere in their relationship, so whatever issues he has, he’ll have to work out on his own.

  Just as I’m about to pull my fangs from his skin, a vision overwhelms me so completely, the dark tunnel fades away and I’m seeing through Levi’s eyes.

  He’s standing in a library of some sort—a study, maybe, and facing a man who’s as tall as him, yet decades older. His hair is thinning on the top, and he’s wearing round wire-rim glasses that he pushes up his nose.

  “I just found this,” Levi says, offering his father a thick leather-bound book. “It’s great-grandma Sorcha’s grimoire. There are spells in here…” He breaks off, leafing through the pages.

  “Yes, Levi, I know what a grimoire is,” his father replies with a condescending little smile. He doesn’t take the book. “Your point?”

  Frustration boils in Levi’s blood as he turns the grimoire so his father can see it. “This shit is really dark. This is a spell for causing heart failure. It says the person afflicted would be dying slowly, over several months, and the death would look natural because the magic literally causes the body to self-destruct. The heart muscle slowly deteriorates, and eventually the victim suffers a…” He peers down at the book. “The spell calls it an ‘event,’ which I assume is a heart failure of some sort.”

>   The older man lifts his eyebrows. “And?”

  “And that’s exactly how Nora’s mom died,” Levi says. “The cardiologists couldn’t figure out why someone her age would have suffered such muscle atrophy, and only in the heart muscle.”

  “Again, I fail to see your point,” Levi’s father says, already turning his back on his son and focusing on his work.

  Levi slams the book down on the workbench with enough force to rattle the glass vials and instruments that his father is tinkering with.

  “The spell includes instructions on how to stop the spell’s progression before it gets too far,” he snaps. “I can’t believe you didn’t know about this.”

  His father makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, still not looking at him. “You think I know every single spell from this library by heart?”

  Levi leans in closer. “You told Nora’s parents you checked every book in here when you went to ‘help’ them,” he forces out through gritted teeth. “I can’t believe you didn’t check your own grandmother’s grimoire.”

  His father turns to him now, all traces of humor gone from his face. “Just what do you think you’re accusing me of?”

  “Did you know of this spell when Nora’s mom was dying?” Levi asks slowly, staring into his father’s eyes.

  The man doesn’t respond.

  Levi recoils in horror. “How could you?”

  I wrench myself away from Levi’s wrist, scrabbling back over the rubble. His blood suddenly tastes heavy and cloying in my mouth—or maybe that’s just the power of the vision. Or maybe it’s…

  Witch’s blood.

  I should have known. The first vampires were created from witches, and we share ancestors, so it’s no wonder we connected on a level I’ve never achieved with humans.

  Levi is panting, too, cradling his bleeding wrist to his chest.

  “Fuck,” he curses. Then again, louder, “Fuck!”

  “What’s wrong? What did he do?”

  The big Icelander rushes closer and puts himself between Levi and me as though to protect him from me. I laugh, but the sound comes out hollow and bitter. He’s protecting the wrong man.