The Cursed (The Unearthly)

by Laura Thalassa

He sighed and pulled away, looking regretfully at my lips.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  He glanced at his watch. “As much as I enjoy that mouth of yours, we have a boat to catch.”

  “A boat … to catch?” I asked, not sure whether I’d heard him correctly. “I thought we were going out to dinner.”

  “We are,” he said, “out on the open ocean.”

  The frosty ocean air whipped my hair about and tugged at my coat. Not even this chilly evening could prevent me from enjoying the open water. The volatile siren in me had relaxed now that I was surrounded by it.

  A warm chest pressed into my back as the boat left Douglas harbor.

  “Are you sure you’re not too cold out here?” Andre’s lips tickled my ear as he spoke, and his hair grazed my cheek. We stood on the deck of his yacht, watching the land grow smaller and smaller.

  My fangs slid out, and heat rushed to my skin. “I’m good.” He was doing plenty to keep me warm and flushed already.

  “How did you know?” I breathed. There was no place I’d rather be than out here, with nothing but water stretching out around me on all sides.

  His lips skimmed my ear. “How could I not?”

  I smiled and leaned into him, and for a while we remained like that. That was, until Andre kissed the exposed skin behind my ear. I swiveled around to face him.

  His gaze was heated, and his eyes dropped to my lips. Was Oliver right? Was all that held Andre and me back from doing the deed just my age? And if that was so, where was tonight going to lead?

  The thought made me excited. And nervous.

  “What are you thinking about?” Andre asked, his voice low.

  “Nothing,” I said a little too quickly.

  “I think you’re lying.” His lips quirked and his voice dropped even lower. I remembered too late that, for a vampire, smell often dominated even our excellent vision. He probably knew exactly where my mind was.

  And just as soon as I thought the night might get really interesting, he backed off. His eyes grew troubled. “I have to leave again tomorrow for Romania.”

  Romania. I was starting to hate that place without ever visiting it. Andre had been going there every couple weeks. That was where his coven was holding the hearing against him for crimes he’d committed on the night of his birthday.

  “I’ll be gone for a few days, as usual. Until I get back, remember your training and keep yourself safe.”

  Chapter 2

  “I have one more surprise for you,” Andre said.

  I stared at him across the dining room table in his yacht, my food and his wine long since gone. “Andre, you really didn’t have to.” He was going to give me unrealistic expectations about birthdays if he kept this up.

  “Gabrielle,” he said, his eyes smoldering, “this gives me joy, so do me a favor and go with it.”

  “Bossy vampire,” I said, a smile spreading across my face.

  He came around the table and took my hand, tugging me to my feet. His head dipped to my ear. “And you like it.”

  Before I could respond, Andre led me into the boat’s lounge. I took a seat on one of the couches and crinkled my brow, not sure what to expect from Andre. Oliver’s earlier words ran through my mind, and my cheeks flushed.

  A sculpted eyebrow rose as Andre sat down next to me, his body dwarfing the couch. I wanted to cringe that he could smell just how hot and bothered I was.

  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small box—the kind that contained jewelry—and my pulse began to beat loudly in my ears. A ring? Oh God, a ring?

  He took my hand, his thumb rubbing slow circles along my skin. “It’s not what you think it is,” he said.

  I felt a surge of relief course through me, but underneath it was a small sense of disappointment. That second emotion confused the hell out of me.

  Andre’s face remained unreadable as he passed me the box. I took it from him and rubbed the velvety surface of the box, and then I raised the lid.

  I sucked in a breath as I stared at the ring inside. A large ruby sat at its center, encased in a band of gold. It glinted in the dim light of the lounge.

  “How is this not what I think it is?” I asked, glancing up from my gift.

  Andre’s gaze was intense when he responded. “There are no strings attached to this ring, Gabrielle. No promises, no commitments, nothing. It’s just a piece of jewelry that’s dear to my heart, and I wanted to give it to someone who’s dear to my heart.”

  So much more was behind his eyes when he spoke. In them I could see all the things he wasn’t saying—that he was making me a promise, that he’d always be mine.

  Andre took the ring out from the box, then took my hand. “May I?” he asked, nodding to my fingers.

  May he put it on. My hand. He’s putting a ring on my finger.

  “Mm-hmm,” I murmured, not trusting my voice for the moment. My heart was slamming in my chest.

  He slid it first on my index finger, but the ring was too small. Then he tried my middle finger. Again the ring got stuck halfway on.

  Andre removed it and paused, staring at my ring finger. We both were. He lifted the ring and slipped it on. It fit. Perfectly.

  As though it were fated.

  “I don’t want to be a child bride, Andre.”

  Happy laughter bubbled out of him. “I promise that won’t happen, soulmate. We can wait until you look more like a mummy than a vampire before we get married.”

  I swatted him. “Look who’s talking, Father Time.” Then, when the rest of his words sunk in, I raised my eyebrows. “You want to marry me? Eventually?”

  Andre’s gaze focused on me, and the humor drained from his face. “You’re wearing my mother’s ring,” he said by way of answer.

  My eyes widened. I wore something in my hand that predated Andre. “And you’re giving it to me?”

  Andre nodded.

  I ran my finger over the face of the ring, the weight of the gift falling on my shoulders. This was a piece of jewelry that had over 700 years worth of personal value to Andre. And now it was mine.

  My gaze drifted up from the ring. I badly wanted to tell him that I couldn’t accept something this valuable, but when I met his eyes, they were full of guarded hope. I’d throw myself in front of a bus before I dashed that hope.

  “It’s incredibly beautiful,” I said. “Thank you for giving me something so meaningful.”

  Sometimes I managed to say the right thing. Now was one of them. Andre’s face crinkled into a full-blown smile, making me forget for a moment that he was anything other than the man I loved. “I’m glad you like it,” he said. “I want you to always have a part of me, even while I’m away.”

  Andre looked up from the ring to my face, his expression heated. I had only a moment to notice that resistance that always shone in his eyes melt away. And then his lips met mine.

  The kiss was slow and scorching, and it progressed quickly into something more. Andre gathered me to him, and I twined myself around his torso. This was the problem we constantly ran into—fighting the physical attraction between us. Andre usually did a much better job of it than me, but not at the moment.

  My fingers slid through his silky hair before trailing down to his shoulders and arms. Our bodies were flush with one another, and despite the layers of clothing that separated us, I could easily feel every dip and curve of his muscular torso.

  Andre lifted me from the couch and moved us down the hall. My skin felt feverish as he carried me into one of the bedrooms.

  Was this happening?

  He set me down on the bed and peeled off his own jacket. I scooted forward, reached a hand out to his shirt, and glanced at him. His eyes were heated. I guess that was permission to continue.

 
I began unbuttoning his shirt, my hands trembling. He cupped the sides of my face, placing soft kisses over every inch of exposed skin he could find.

  He released me only long enough for me to slide the shirt off of his shoulders. As I did so, I relished the feel of his coiled, sinuous muscles.

  This was too much. The siren in me was already moving to the surface. I fought against her, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath to push her back.

  When I was under control again, I leaned back and drank Andre in. “You’re so pretty.”

  Andre narrowed his eyes. “Pretty?” he said incredulously. “I’ve fought in crusades, held dying men in my arms, led a coven of vampires for over seven centuries. I’m many things, soulmate, but pretty is not one of them.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. The truth was, Andre was pretty the way a panther was. Beautiful, but lethal. And right now his eyes glittered dangerously. I grabbed his hand and tugged him forward until he joined me on the bed.

  A whisper of a smile graced his lips, and I traced it with my thumb. My mouth followed my finger, and I kissed him, tentatively running my hands over his naked torso.

  He rolled on top of me, and inner Gabrielle squealed with delight. My skin shimmered on and off like a strobe light as the siren and I battled for control.

  Andre broke off the kiss, and I heard his husky laughter.

  “Are you laughing at me?” I asked indignantly, my skin losing its ethereal shimmer. I pushed him over and he let me, his laugh building on itself. I rolled on top of him and straddled his torso. “That’s not very nice.”

  “I’m not a very nice man,” he said, trying to stifle it.

  “It’s hard to control that thing, and you don’t exactly make it any easier.”

  “What a difficult cross to bear,” he said sympathetically, running a hand down my arm.

  It was my turn to narrow my eyes. “You’re not doing so well in the boyfriend department right now. And let’s not even talk about the future-husband one.”

  He laughed again, and I fought a smile. “I cherish you so much, Gabrielle.”

  In response I leaned down and brushed my lips against his, and then we resumed where we left off.

  That is, until I yawned.

  I wasn’t bored in the least. Far from it. But each passing day made me a little less human, and my sleep cycle had been off for a while.

  Andre’s eyes honed in on my yawn. “You’re tired.”

  “No—no,” I said, desperate to not mess this up. Since we’d been dating, Andre had been policing the physical nature of our relationship like a nun.

  He brushed back my hair, flashing me a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Ah, to be young,” he said, discreetly reminding me of our considerable age difference. I gave him a look.

  He kissed each of my eyelids. “You are gorgeous even when you pout,” he said, pulling away from my face to take me in.

  “I’m not pouting,” I said, aware of the obstinate note in my voice even as I spoke. Dang it, he was the sourpuss, not me. I was all for where things were leading.

  He wrapped me up in his arms. “And I’m not leaving. I’ll be right here. But you should try to get some sleep,” he said, his eyes moving over my face.

  I yawned again without meaning to, and my eyelids drooped. They fluttered open before falling shut again.

  There was something incredibly comforting about falling asleep curled in Andre’s arms. I’d gone on for so long thinking that I was a lone traveler in my life; it was nice having someone to share it with.

  “Sweet dreams, soulmate.”

  Snow covered the ground up to my ankles. It frosted the trees that stretched out around me, making the place both beautiful and bleak.

  What forest had I wandered into?

  The silence surrounding me was deep and pure. I stepped forward, my boots crunching into snow. The sound raised the hairs along my arm.

  A familiar sense of unease slithered through me as I walked along what appeared to be a path. Now that snow covered the ground, only the extra wide space between trees indicated that it was manmade.

  My breath clouded around me. But other than that, nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. Unease became dread the further into the woods I walked. My body seemed to know more about my surroundings than I did.

  Ahead of me, beyond the gnarled branches, I caught a glimpse of something. The thick woods opened up.

  My breath froze in my chest. Fear coursed through my veins and begged me to leave. But I couldn’t move. Instead I stared, transfixed, at the stone castle in front of me.

  It seemed to grow out of the rocky earth, raw stone transitioning to quarried, polished blocks stacked one on top of each other. Icicles had formed along the castle’s ledges and along the faces and wings of gargoyles that watched me.

  I’d seen this place before, when snow and ice hadn’t covered it. When I’d almost sold my soul. And now I was back.

  “Welcome back, Gabrielle.”

  I shrieked before I could stop myself and glanced around, looking for him. The devil.

  He stepped out from the woods to my left, looking just as beautiful and terrifying as he always had.

  I stumbled back. “Why can’t you leave me alone?” I asked, my voice unsteady. Now I remembered why my body had been signaling for me to leave. It knew on a primordial level that this was an unholy place.

  He ignored my question and stepped towards me. For each of his steps forward I took one back, until I bumped into a tree.

  He closed the remaining distance quickly. “Little bird,” he said, the back of his hand grazing my face. I flared my nostrils at his touch, “I will never leave you alone. Not until you agree to my terms.”

  I flattened myself against the tree, trying to put space between us when there was none. The tree I was butted up against groaned as it leaned away. It too was trying to distance itself from the being in front of me.

  The devil picked up a lock of my hair and rubbed it between his fingers. This close to me, our breath was intermingling. It felt much, much too intimate.

  He placed the lock of hair back against my chest, his fingers lingering. I whimpered at the awful sensation, then bit my lip as his gaze moved to my mouth.

  Gabrielle, the forest echoed.

  The devil cocked his head at the voice, and I used the momentary distraction to slip away from him. Using my supernatural speed, I sprinted down the snow-covered path.

  The earth quaked as I ran, snow shaking loose from the trees around us. I threw a glance over my shoulder. The devil’s face had contorted into something ugly.

  Gabrielle! This time the voice was more insistent.

  I lost my balance and pitched forward. The moment I should’ve hit the cold, frozen earth, the world around me vanished.

  “Gabrielle!”

  My eyes snapped open and the room came into focus. I was still on Andre’s yacht. Safe.

  Andre leaned over me. A frown tugged at the edges of his lips and a line formed between his eyebrows. I ignored the way his closeness hitched my already ragged breath.

  “Did you dream of him again?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat was dry. Instead I nodded.

  Andre’s thumb moved to my face, and he stroked away a tear that must’ve slipped out in my sleep. The crease between his brows hadn’t smoothed out. I could read his thoughts; he was wondering how he could save me from something as slippery as the devil.

  “You can’t protect me,” I said.

  “That’s what you told me shortly after we met,” Andre said, his gaze flittering across my face.

  I swallowed. “I remember.”

  “The thing is,” he said, his eyes intense, “you’re my soulmate, not his. That means that it i
s my job to look after your wellbeing, and it’s his job to leave you the hell alone.”

  That made me quirk my lips. The devil following the rules? Not likely.

  I rubbed my arms as I sat up. “He’s not going to stop Andre,” I said. “Until he gets what he wants, I don’t think he ever will.”

  I woke up the next morning to the sound of my phone ringing. I stretched and glanced out the window. Rain came down in torrents, and the wind had blown away some of the Christmas garlands that had decorated Peel Castle’s walls. In the middle of the grassy lawn, the evergreen Christmas tree shook violently, the ornaments making a tinkling noise.

  I smiled to myself, remembering my evening with Andre. It drooped a little when I realized that it might be days before I saw him again.

  Beside me, my phone continued to ring. I snatched it up, noticing the caller ID. Hellhole, a.k.a., the Politia.

  “Hello?” I stared at the ring Andre gave me, trying to absorb some of him through it.

  “If you have any plans today, cancel them,” my boss, Inspector Magdalene Comfry said on the other end of the line. “We need you to come in.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “A girl was murdered overseas, and the Politia has requested your expertise on the killing. Congratulations Gabrielle, as our lead demonologist, you and your partner have been assigned to the case.”

  Chapter 3

  I entered Castle Rushen, the Politia’s headquarters, from its back entrance, mostly to avoid stares. Since Samhain, I’d become infamous for spending an evening with the devil and living to tell the tale. Those who saw me as a victim stared at me with fascination, wondering what I’d experienced that night. And those who thought I was evil, they often glared at me like they wanted to douse me in holy water.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets as I walked down a back hallway. Here the smells of mildew, grime, and blood assailed my nostrils.