Origins (The Grimm Cases Book 1)

by Lyla Oweds

“It’s nothing you’ve done,” he said—his hand leaving my face. “Bianca, will you let me take care of you, please? It’s killing me to know that you’re hurt. It isn’t right. You deserve to have someone treat you kindly.”

  He hardly knew what I deserved, yet I couldn’t hold back my tears. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  I was so ashamed. This could have all been avoided.

  “Don’t cry…” Julian sounded lost. “Please, can I take care of you?”

  I nodded. If it was this important to him, why would I deny him? Even if these guys didn’t really know me yet, I knew I wouldn’t be able to deny them anything at this point.

  Julian paused, waiting, and it took me a second to realize he needed my sweater removed. I blushed, complying—thankful, I’d worn a tank-top. Moving was painful, so it took a long moment before I had struggled out of my sweater. I sat there with it bundled in my lap.

  It was then that I noticed Julian had turned away while I was removing my clothing.

  His consideration was cute and pulled me away from my dark thoughts. A med school student, and still so shy. I couldn’t imagine why; I was probably the least intimidating patient he’d ever see.

  But how to break the tension? I liked this gentlemanly side to him. “Okay…”

  He turned around, blushing. But his expression fell once his gaze landed on me.

  Well, that was disheartening.

  I didn’t know what I had been expecting—but not this. I didn’t have the most impressive cleavage, or even a womanly shape. So I hadn’t thought he’d fall down at my feet and worship me as some sort of sex goddess. But him paling in horror wasn’t inspiring to my self-confidence.

  “Julian?”

  “Bianca.” Julian closed the short distance between us, and his face contorted into a mask of professional concern. “Why didn’t you say it was this bad?”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. I hadn’t looked at myself. And at the moment, I couldn’t look away from him.

  His fingers trailed over my arm for a moment, his gaze calculating, before he pulled out his phone and typed something. Once done, he put his phone away and refocused his attention back on me. “Where’s the kitchen?”

  Suddenly, he seemed like a completely different person.

  “Oh.” The question surprised me. I began to stand, intent on showing him the way. He pushed his hand against my chest, forcing me back into my seat.

  “I’ll be able to figure out what I need myself.” His tone allowed no argument. “Just tell me which way to go, and I’ll take it from there. You sit here and wait.”

  I blinked at him stupidly. It wasn’t as if I was a fragile doll. But I pointed in the correct direction anyway—I didn’t want another argument. He was gone at once, ordering me to not move as he retreated.

  After he left, I looked at myself in the mirror to see what he was so concerned about. It was almost scary to wonder what might have a doctor-in-training looking so disturbed. Of course, he was probably overreacting.

  Then I noticed the masses of bright red on the skin of my arm. It looked like a mixture of bruises and burns, but felt like neither. I didn’t know how it happened, but it was jarring enough that spots began to dance in the corner of my vision.

  Why wasn’t I in pain? A memory stirred in the back of my mind, and I just knew I was dying. Perhaps I was in shock, or maybe my nerve endings had been destroyed. Should I go to the hospital…?

  No, I’d rather not do that either.

  My stomach lurched and I curled forward, trying not to be sick. It was both hot and cold at once. Something terrible was going to happen.

  I was going to throw up. All that expensive, delicious Italian food. Those soft, wonderful breadsticks. The tiramisu. I’d eaten them for naught. I hadn’t even drank any alcohol! Why was I being punished for being the responsible one?

  “Bianca.” Julian was back. “Bianca, it’s all right.” His hand was cool against my neck. Soothing. I opened my eyes—he was kneeling in front of me, various ice packs and towels piled at his side. “Damen is coming to help. He’ll be here soon.”

  “Damen?” I could only look at him, confused. “I thought you were the one in medical school. To be a doctor. Damen is a psychologist.”

  “Psychologists can hold doctorates.” His eyes drifted over my arm again. “But you are correct—I am in medical school. Technically, I could treat…this. But Damen has experience with this type of injury.”

  That didn’t clear up a thing. “What kind of injury?”

  He didn’t answer as he helped me to lie on my back before packing in towels and ice-packs between my arm and the back of the couch. It was cold, and goosebumps erupted over my skin. It dawned on me that I was wearing a tank-top, and I prayed that my nipples would behave.

  What a day not to wear a bra.

  But he still hadn’t answered my question. “Bruises?” I prompted.

  “Yes, bruises.” Julian didn’t seem to be fixated on my chest, so perhaps I was safe. Instead, he focused completely on his task.

  And he also didn’t sound very convincing—I hadn’t missed the slight pause before he said the word.

  “But…”

  “Go to sleep.” Julian touched my face, brushing his finger against my cheek in a slight caress. “You need to rest. We’ll figure out everything else in a bit.”

  He was making no sense, but I was too exhausted to argue. I hadn’t really slept well the night before. Sleep sounded like a wonderful thing.

  “Bianca.” Damen’s voice broke through my dreams, and a large hand brushed against my forehead. It was comforting—and really annoying at the same time.

  There was nothing I hated more than being woken up.

  “Go away,” I mumbled, desperate to hang on to that last vestige of slumber. I had been having such a good dream. There were a lot of hot guys, I wasn’t awkward, and I had been really thirsty…

  “Bianca.” It was Julian now. He sounded nearby, and a warm hand touched my shoulder. “You need to wake up now. Damen is here.”

  “No.” Sure, I had said I would do anything for them. But this—this was crossing the line. “Tired.”

  I could sense their presence remained near me, hovering, and it would just not do. How would I be able to relax enough to sleep with attractive men looming about? What if I snored—or, worse yet, drooled?

  I huffed, blindly grabbing at something that felt like a blanket. With my line of defense secured, I would just turn over and continue in my dreams. No one would bother me now—not with my face pressed against the cushions. My fortress was impenetrable.

  Only, I wasn’t in bed.

  I screamed and landed face-first on the floor. I had also smacked Damen with my injured arm while falling, so said arm now throbbed in pain.

  “Shit.” Damen’s voice sounded muffled.

  I painfully forced myself on my hands and knees in time to see him tilt his head back—his hand flying to his bleeding nose.

  Realization sunk in—I was two for four now. If I harmed Julian and Miles, then I would have gotten them all.

  “Are you all right?” Julian knelt in front of me as he helped me to my feet and back onto the couch. “I’m sorry that we had to wake you, but we really need to look at your arm—”

  “What about my nose?” Damen wheezed.

  I stared at him—guilt racing though me. However, his flawless face wasn’t lopsided—so it didn’t seem like I’d broken anything. What a relief.

  Julian waved him off, unconcerned, as he tucked the blanket around me. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “Stop being dramatic. You’ve survived worse than that.”

  “Damen.” I was turning out to be a surprisingly violent person. I had never hurt anyone before, yet I beat up these handsome men. And, for some reason, they were putting up with it!

  At least with Damen it hadn’t been on purpose. “Damen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay,
baby girl. I’m tougher than I look.” He expertly poked at his face—the bleeding had stopped already. But that still didn’t make me feel any better. “We’ll just know not to get in your face next time.”

  Next time?

  My interest perked. Could he be planning on having many slumber parties? I thought this ghost hunting experience would be a one-time event. Weren’t we too old for this?

  But I couldn’t stop my excitement at the idea. If they were serious about being friends, maybe we could make this a monthly tradition. I had so many things I wanted to do at parties, but Finn refused to humor me—Twister, Truth and Dare, Seven Minutes in Heaven, nail painting and hair braiding…

  Well, we could do almost all of those things. Outside of me, the only person who could have their hair braided would be Titus. And I was afraid to touch his silky-looking locks. I didn’t want to risk ruining them with my lackluster skills.

  “That sounds fun. I’m so happy!” I smiled at them, so thrilled that they were contemplating a next time. It was going to be so much fun when we didn’t have death looming over our heads. “I love slumber parties.”

  Damen and Julian blinked at me, surprised, before shooting each other curious looks.

  Of course, that made me feel self-conscious again. I probably shouldn’t have been so excited. Slumber parties were a normal thing that friends did, and now I made it sound all weird.

  I lowered my eyes, frowning. “I mean, it sounds cool. Whatever you want to do.”

  “You want to have a slumber party, baby girl?”

  I glanced up, wondering why Damen’s voice sounded so very strange. His intense eyes captured my attention as he slowly brushed a strand of hair back from my face, and I nodded.

  “Sure, we can have a slumber party. We’ll make it a party to remember.” Damen’s mouth twisted into a breathtaking grin, and I wondered if he was being serious. “In fact, we can have as many slumber parties as you want.”

  “Why?” I hoped that my eagerness wasn’t too obvious. “Because of the ghost?” That would make for a memorable party.

  “Do you like pink?” Damen asked, his tone still weird.

  I blinked at the strange question, my excitement slightly ebbing. What did that have to do with anything?

  “And lace?” he continued.

  My focus drifted to Julian, who stood nearby—his hand over his face.

  I was hesitant now, and wary. Wondering what I might have said that would garner this kind of reaction. “Yes…” I answered slowly. “It’s my second favorite color. Lace is pretty…”

  He smiled, and it confounded me. I couldn’t figure out why he’d be excited. Maybe he liked the color pink and lace in the same manner that Titus enjoyed cute things?

  His thumb brushed over my lips, his fingers barely touching me. I gasped, and for some reason, that made his grin grow wider. “Do you—”

  “Okay,” Julian interrupted. “That’s enough.”

  Damen pouted before his hand dropped and Julian continued, “Don’t forget why I called you here, Damen.”

  That did the trick—Damen’s weird mood vanished instantly. “Right.” He rolled up his sleeves. “Let’s take a look.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Burn

  “I need you to turn around please, Bianca,” Damen commanded, his voice all seriousness.

  I tore my gaze from his defined forearms and watched him critically. Because really. Despite Julian’s vague—but glowing—recommendation, I had reservations about this. The fact remained that Damen was a psychologist. What would he know about my injuries?

  Besides, where I was supposed to sit? I was perched on a high-backed couch.

  Julian seemed to sense my dilemma, and gracefully slid onto the couch beside me.

  “Sit on my lap—facing me.” He gestured toward himself with a comforting smile. I choked, but he wasn’t fazed. “Damen will need access to your back. They are there as well. I noticed when you turned on your side. We’ll need to contain these burns.”

  “E-Excuse me?” He couldn’t be serious. It didn’t matter that his words were made in innocence. And they clearly were—the man had blushed when I removed my sweater.

  But it made sense. I could do this—I would just pretend that we were playing Seven Minutes in Heaven. Granted, it would have made sense to go to the kitchen instead. I could have sat on a stool. There’d be better lighting…

  But maybe I didn’t have all the details.

  “These abrasions need to be handled a certain way,” Julian explained. “Once Damen begins treatment, it might hurt for a moment. I want to make sure you are secure. You can hold on to me—it might help.”

  The two of them continued to converse in low voices and appeared to know what they were doing. I nodded complacently, trying to keep up. They must have done this before. They were the experts. And treating burns was bound to be a painful exper—

  “Wait,” I squeaked. Julian and Damen snapped to attention at once, giving me their full focus. “Burns?”

  Granted, I had thought that they resembled burns, but to hear Julian classify them as such was a different matter. None of this made sense. How could Finn, only by touching me, have caused me to burn?

  So I was dying? They didn’t seem very concerned. “I—”

  Damen knelt in front of me, taking my hand into his own. “Don’t panic; it’s not what you think.”

  “It’s not what I think?” I tugged my hand away and shoved my fist against my mouth, holding back my scream. “I don’t even know what to think. You said that I’m burned. Is that why I’m not in agonizing pain? Am I going to die?”

  “No, you aren’t going to die. It’s not that kind of a burn—I don’t think.” Damen placed his palms on my knees and gazed at me. “Please don’t worry. What Finn did…It’s rare, but it’s an ability inherited from our family. He let go of his restraint. It’s more like…” he paused, his brow furrowed, as he searched for the words.

  “It’s like a physical wound—but on your aura,” Julian interjected. “Normally, you wouldn’t see it. However, in theory, in severe cases such as yours—or when the recipient is sensitive to these things—it can also manifest physically. There wouldn’t be any pain until it covers your whole body, which would happen if not treated. It’s a curse that will consume you slowly. The only people who can stop it are those who cast it or someone stronger. I can do it, but it would be better if it was Damen.”

  “What caused Finn to do this?” Damen asked flatly. I had the distinct impression he cared about the answer more than he was letting on.

  “Because he’s an evil little punk, that’s why,” Julian snapped. “Why aren’t you angry about this?”

  “I am angry. And that’s not what I meant.” Damen sighed. “Generally, Finn’s control is admirable. I wonder what he’s been doing that would cause it to be so fragile. And also, this concerns me because it’s not like her type are naturally susceptible to this.”

  “I made him do it,” I admitted, looking at the ground shamefully. “I yelled at him. I was just so angry—about everything. I told him I hated him. He might not have done anything otherwise. It’s my fau—”

  Damen’s finger was pressed against my mouth, cutting off my statement. “It’s not your fault.” A strange emotion stirred in the depths of his eyes. “I just wanted to know what he might have said beforehand. I’m trying to understand his angle. That’s all. No matter what you might have said or done, he had no right to lay a hand on you.”

  “Bianca, I’m not sure what made you get upset with Finn,” Julian interjected, his expression dark. “But I am sure that he deserved it. Don’t feel guilty.”

  That’s right. I forgot that Julian hadn’t been there earlier. “I—”

  “We’ll talk later, baby girl.” Damen got back to his feet. “I’d like to take care of this curse first, please.”

  I nodded. That sounded rather urgent. “Okay…”

  I had to take off my shirt—the marks had spr
ead to the middle of my back—and I was tucked intimately against Julian’s chest, my legs bent on either side of his thighs. Thankfully, the fuzzy blanket preserved my modesty, but it still wasn’t much of a barrier between Julian and myself.

  If anyone were to come upon the scene, there would be raised eyebrows for sure. But thankfully, it was only Julian, Damen, myself, and an unknown number of ghosts in the house.

  Total privacy.

  At least I wasn’t the only one embarrassed. Julian tried—but failed—to act nonchalant about this entire situation, but the darkening of his face was undeniable. It actually calmed me to know I wasn’t the only one having a hard time.

  But, eventually, my curiosity overcame my shyness as I heard Damen muttering behind me.

  “What are you doing back there?” I couldn’t hold my questions back anymore, and my filter fled in face of my nervousness. “How will you remove the curse? Am I still going to have bruises? Will it hurt?”

  Julian’s mouth lifted, but it was Damen who replied. He sounded angry now, and his hand hovered closely over my back. Not touching—but I could feel the heat of his hands close to my skin.

  “It might hurt a little at first. I’ll try to be gentle, but curse-breaking is difficult. If it does hurt, beat up Julian. After a moment, you’ll begin to feel numb and tired—having your aura manipulated is draining. And this is slightly different than what I expected…” His hands never once pausing. “You will bruise on top of what you already have. The marks will add more to your collection. It looks like Finn really did a number…”

  “Can I kill him?” Julian asked.

  “Not now,” Damen replied. “Now I need to focus. Bianca, I’m going to start.”

  I was about to ask him what that meant, but a jolt shot through me. Even though I clamped my teeth together, a pained sound escaped, and I tensed at the unfamiliar sensation.

  Julian grasped my hands, entwining our fingers between our chests. “It’s all right.” I glanced up at him, meeting his comforting stare. Then, the pain dimmed, and my thoughts became muddled.

  Which was probably a good thing, because the intimacy of this position was becoming harder to ignore with every second that passed. All I could focus on was the feeling of Julian’s body under mine, and the soft touch of his breaths passing over my head.