by Russo, Jessa
“Holland? Deep breaths, remember? We’ve got this.” Mick reached out to me and grabbed my hand, placing it on his chest. We.
I looked into his kind eyes, and he winced in response. I briefly wondered what he saw, but the thought was gone before I could question him. The fire in my veins demanded my focus, spreading so much faster than the last time. It moved outward from my chest, racing toward my extremities. My fingers would be hit first. I remembered the pain from before, only this time it was magnified.
“Oh God,” I repeated, but the words were more of a growl, slipping past clenched teeth. My knees started to give out, so Mick lowered me to the floor, wrapping his arm around me, pressing my ear to his chest. His other hand still held one of my hands pressed there as well.
“Holland,” he whispered with his lips on my ear. “I need you to try to breathe slowly, and listen to my breathing, okay? Breathe with me, Holland. You can do this. Just like last time.”
My free hand gripped his shirt hem, while my other hand flexed and pressed against his chest. His palm pushed against my hand, unrelenting.
“What the hell? What’s wrong with her? Holl?”
Cam’s voice was panicked and scared, but I couldn’t respond. I wanted to reassure my brother, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, a half-groan, half-whine came out. Mick told Rosemarie and Cam something, but I couldn’t decipher the words. Maybe he told them to leave; I didn’t know.
Donovan.
I needed Donovan. The thought crushed me. I pushed it away, determined to do this without him.
But the fire…
So hot…
The burn had almost reached my fingertips. The pain seared my insides, pushing everything else from my mind. My chest felt tight, so tight I didn’t think I was even breathing anymore. I couldn’t imagine being able to breathe. Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe that’s why everything hurt so badly. My body was shutting down, leaving the pain, the fire, to consume me.
I heard screaming again. Mine, I think. No, not mine. Someone else’s. I didn’t know. I couldn’t focus on it long enough to tell.
Donovan.
His name floated through the agony again, then disappeared.
My body convulsed, bouncing around on the floor like a dying fish. Mick held me tightly to him, but the limbs he didn’t have a hold of flopped around, smacking the hard floor of the kitchen and sending even more searing pain through my body.
I heard voices, screams. But they were so far away…
The flames of pain abruptly began to leave my fingers and toes, surging back to their origin, as they had done the last time this happened. The agonizing heat travelled back toward the center of my body, back toward my heart, back toward Mick’s hand on my chest. Numbness in its wake, the pain seeped from me.
His touch had worked this time.
He’d saved me, brought me back from the edge. I sighed as the fiery ache receded, leaving my body cold and trembling.
As soon as I could move, I turned and curled up into his arms. My body still shook with the after effects of the rage, but I didn’t care. I was safe in Mick’s arms. I could trust him. He’d saved me from the change. He would save me from the curse. We would do this together.
“What did you do to her?”
Mick’s voice was far away. Too far away. And it was angry, enraged. I cringed at the sound. But his words…I was confused. I wasn’t hearing things right. Or I was dreaming. Maybe I’d passed out after he’d brought me back from the edge. I snuggled into him further, hoping my confusion would fade with the episode and wanting nothing more than to rest in the safety of his arms.
I just wanted to sleep. I sighed shakily into his chest.
“I think your boyfriend’s getting mighty pissed, love, you might want to remove yourself from my arms.” Donovan’s voice was right above me, but I also heard it coming from Mick’s chest.
The chest bounced with laughter. Donovan’s laughter. I inhaled, the scent of musky cologne teasing my senses.
Donovan’s cologne.
Donovan’s chest.
I opened my eyes, gazing up into deep brown eyes mocking me with the laughter coming from their host. I froze. I was curled up in Donovan’s arms. His hand still rested against my chest, right above my cleavage.
And he was laughing.
Tears started slowly pouring from my eyes. I looked over at Mick, and the wrath on his face softened into concern, then pain. He closed his eyes, then opened them again and came toward me. He didn’t say another word, just scooped me up off the floor, out of Donovan’s lap, then cradled me against his chest.
“I’m not through with you, yet, brother. Don’t even move,” he said to Donovan.
“Wouldn’t think of it, mate.”
Mick
Her body still convulsed in my arms, slight tremors that were nowhere near the quaking fit I’d seen just moments ago, but each quiver cut me to my core. I knew I couldn’t watch her go through this again, couldn’t see her in so much pain.
Even now, with her head on my chest, the tears still streamed. I thought she was sleeping, which made the constant flow of tears even more disturbing.
Donovan’s name on her lips ran through my mind, cutting me to the core with each repetition.
I carried her upstairs and into my room. Our room. I placed her onto the bed as gently as I could and waited to see if she’d move.
She’d cried out for him. He’d saved her.
He’d been the one to rescue her from the outburst. Not me.
I stared down at her, at this beautiful girl who trusted me with her life, and I knew in that moment that I loved her. It wasn’t normal to love so fully, so fast. But I did. Without a doubt, I loved this girl and I would do anything to protect her.
I bent down and rested my lips against her temple for a long few seconds. I inhaled the now-familiar scent of her, and my heart pinched in response.
“I love you, Holland Briggs.”
“Mmm,” she murmured. Then she curled up into herself, and I covered her with the blankets and down comforter.
I turned to the door, startled by my sister standing in the doorway, watching me with her hand on her chest, her hopeful expression evidence that she’d heard my whispered proclamation.
I took one last look at Holland and headed to the hallway. Ro stepped aside, and I closed the door behind me, turning to face her as I did so.
She threw her arms around my neck and squeezed. “I love you, Mickey.”
“I love you too, Ro.” I returned her hug and kissed the top of her head.
She pulled away from me, leaving her hands gripped around my upper arms, and looked up into my eyes. “You’re in love.”
I nodded.
“Are you okay?”
“Not really.”
“What can I do?”
“Come with me to talk to our brother?”
“Of course. Cam’s already down there eyeballing him to death. Cam’s really freaked out.”
“I know. I should have prepared you guys for that. It’s just that things keep happening one after another, and…I just should have prepared you. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“It’s okay, and I know Cam will be fine. He was just a bit, um, caught off guard.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
We made our way back to the kitchen, and I was amused to see Cam standing across from Donovan, who was seated at the table—if Cam could have killed the guy with his eyes, I think he would have. His scowl was intense.
Donovan ate through a ream of crackers and sipped on one of my cold beers. When we entered, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head, smiling as if we’d just told him Christmas was coming early.
“That was quite the show, wasn’t it, mate?”
I pulled the chair out across from him and sat down in it backwards. I crossed my arms over the back of the chair. “What did you do to her?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
“H
ow did you make her stop? How did you bring her back?”
“Oh, that? That’s easy.” His smile grew as he leaned across the table, bringing his face a few feet from mine. “That’s just our connection.”
“I see,” I said, not seeing at all, but unwilling to let the subject drop. “So, tell me about this connection.”
“You know all about it—from research, obviously, not actual experience.”
I didn’t correct him. “So, you share dreams with her, then?”
“Indeed.”
“Great. Tell me about the last one she had. Just last night.”
Donovan’s eyes narrowed for the slightest of seconds, but I caught the gesture. I leaned back and mimicked his nonchalance, waiting for his answer. Since I’d shared the dream with Holland, I knew exactly what it was. This was the perfect test, and I was surprised I hadn’t thought of it before.
“Oh, come on now, surely you can think of something better than that.” He waited a heartbeat and then continued. “No? Okay, then. Last night, I played witness to your little beasty—eh, excuse me, Freudian slip—anyway, I witnessed Holland slipping a bit of poison into her friend’s Café Au Lait powdered coffee. Though I’m quite sure the girl deserved it. Powdered coffee? What’s wrong with you Americans?”
Cam sucked in a breath, and I closed my eyes. I hadn’t been thinking—again. Cam wouldn’t want to hear the details of the crimes Holland had committed, regardless of whether or not she could remember those moments, or whether or not she was even responsible for her actions. I knew enough about the curse to know it hadn’t been Holland who’d done those things, but Cam didn’t know that.
“Okay, so you saw the dream. That still doesn’t prove anything.”
“Doesn’t it? Look, you seem like a nice enough bloke, and since we are family, I’ll spare you the gory details. But let’s get one thing straight here, Mick, she’s still human because I have stopped her from changing. Twice.”
“Twice?”
“Oh! You really are bloody slow, you know it? Yes, twice. Just now, as you’re painfully aware, and again last night.”
“No. Last night I talked her down. She focused on me, on my breathing.” I felt so small as I defended myself, but his words dug deeply.
“Wrong. Try again.”
My jaw clenched as I tried staying calm while listening to Donovan say things I couldn’t possibly believe.
“So, what? You calmed her down?”
“Indeed.”
“How?” I was getting tired of his one or two word responses.
“It was my touch that brought her back from that dangerous ledge, my friend.” He held his hands up and wiggled his fingers. “See? My fingers, my touch…I’m the guy.”
“Well fan-fucking-tastic, Donovan,” Ro snapped. “But here’s the thing: Holland doesn’t like you. I don’t think she even likes to be in the same room with you. So how the hell do you expect to break the spell if she can’t even stand to be around you?”
“I don’t.”
“What?” Ro spat. Cam and I had similar expressions on our faces—wide eyes and tightly clenched jaws.
“Yes, what did you say?” I asked him.
“You heard me. I don’t intend to break the spell. Why should I care what happens to the girl? She’s not my responsibility, now, is she? And you said it yourself, Rosemarie, she doesn’t even like me.”
Cam was across the room in a flash, his hands gripping Donovan’s shirt collar, knuckles white. “Listen here, you creepy bastard. You’ll save my sister, or God help me, I’ll—”
Donovan stood, effortlessly removing Cam’s fingers as if they were those of a small child. “You’ll what?”
“Okay, everyone, let’s try to stay focused.” I tried to diffuse the tense situation. It was hard to tell who would win in a fight between Cam and Donovan, but my bet, unfortunately, was on Donovan. “If you don’t intend to break the spell, Donovan, what are you still doing here?”
“Well, I can’t very well leave now, when all the fun stuff is happening.”
Cam lunged again, but Ro put her hands on his arm to stop him. “Let’s go outside, Cam. I need some air.”
“Fine.” His clipped tone indicated he definitely needed air—and time away from Donovan. I sure as hell did.
“I’ll join you guys. Don’t move,” I told Donovan, as I followed my sister and Cam outside.
As soon as we made it to the back porch, Cam’s fist connected with the wooden beam that held the patio cover up.
He shook his hand out, cringing from the pain. “Mother fu—”
“Cam!” Ro shrieked. “Oh my God! Come here, stick your hand in the snow.”
He did as she said, then she laughed and scolded him. “That was a stupid thing to do.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do with that guy in there?”
They both turned to me, then shrugged in unison.
“I don’t know, Mick,” Ro said, “But I don’t trust him. He’s not our brother.”
I was relieved to hear her say what I’d already been thinking, but that relief came with another thought. If all of us doubted Donovan’s story, who was the guy in our cabin pretending to be family? What did he want with us? With Holland?
My lungs tightened. I’d left him in there with Holland! And in her current state, so weak and tired—there was no telling what he could do to her!
I turned and ran back inside, my heart pumping loudly in my ears as my adrenaline spiked. I passed through the kitchen—empty, as I knew it would be. With each footfall, my heart sank lower into my stomach.
“Holland!” I raced up the stairs.
No answer. But then, I hadn’t expected one.
Holland
Mick trailed his hand down my side, pulling me from slumber. I stretched my legs, my body waking up to his touch, hungry for more. I smiled as he caressed my hip, then slowly made his way to my thigh. I sighed happily, and he took the opportunity to bring his lips down over mine. As he deepened the kiss, his stubble rubbed against my skin. His grip on my leg tightened, and I scooted closer to him as his fingers kneaded my thigh—
Wait. Stubble?
My eyes flew open.
“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.”
I pulled the covers up around me, disgusted and disturbed by the lingering sensation of his lips on mine. I’d kissed him!
Donovan leaned down, his palms flattened against the bed on either side of me, pinning me beneath the covers.
“What are you doing in here?” My voice trembled as I gripped the blankets tighter.
His eyes were heavily lidded, and he licked his lips. “I think we should probably discuss something, don’t you?”
I looked away from him, unable to hold his gaze after how intimate we’d just been. My stomach roiled, churning round and round. I’d kissed him. I’d betrayed Mick. Donovan’s dark eyes seemed to look right through me, as if he knew all of my deepest secrets. And he’d just caused me to sigh with pleasure as he touched me, caused me to open my mouth to him. I could only imagine what he was thinking now, or what he wanted to talk about.
“Don’t be shy, love. I think we both know there’s a connection here.” He ran his hand over the covers, up my leg, pausing momentarily near my groin—his thumb resting dangerously close to an area he was the last person I wanted touching.
“I know it feels good when I touch you, Holland.” He continued moving his hand up the length of my body, and I released the breath I’d been holding since he’d paused between my thighs. As he stopped just below my right breast, my eyes widened and my pulse accelerated.
“Don’t be so prudish,” he said with a cruel smirk, removing his hand from my body. “I don’t mean sexually. Your skin calls to me. It’s our connection.”
He was right. I didn’t want to admit it, but maybe he was the one meant to break the curse. Maybe it wasn’t Mick. I mean, I couldn’t ignore the fact that Donovan’s touch did funny things to my body, my senses.
&nb
sp; But I didn’t have feelings for Donovan. And I didn’t want to. “No. There’s no connection between us.”
“Oh, Holland.” He ran his hands through his dark hair and smiled a wicked smile, then cracked his knuckles. “Please do try to ignore this.”
He straddled me, and I sucked in a breath. He reached toward me again and I froze, pinned beneath his dark gaze and advancing hands, the weight of his body locking me in place. He pulled the covers down, folding them back at my waist.
Mick! Where is he?
Why was I alone with Donovan? Again. Was Mick hurt? And where was my brother? Rosemarie? Anyone?
I opened my mouth to yell for them—
Donovan placed his right hand high on my chest, his thumb resting on my collarbone, and his fingers stretching around my neck lightly. My breath caught in my throat. Every nerve in my body reacted to his touch, racing to the places where his skin met mine.
Exhilaration surged within me.
Words were lost.
Thoughts were distant, murky.
I felt alive…and safe. Whole. I wanted to melt into his hand.
My mouth opened and closed a few times, words refusing to form into coherent sentences. My body sang with life, as if Donovan’s touch somehow roused cells that had long been dormant. My mind screeched warnings, telling me this was all wrong, but my body didn’t care. I had trouble catching my breath. The feeling was unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my life.
I didn’t want to feel this way about Donovan, but I couldn’t ignore the way my body hummed with anticipation of where his fingers would travel next.
No. This is wrong.
I wanted Mick’s hands on my body; I wanted Mick’s touch to light me up like a sparkler. I didn’t even like Donovan. I barely tolerated him, and even then, I sure didn’t want to have to.
And yet, here I sat, pinned beneath the covers by a man I couldn’t stand, my body aching with need. I wanted to be consumed by him.
What the hell?
Hunger. Thirst. I needed Donovan to live, to survive. No wonder he’d been the one to bring me back from the edge both times—it was a phenomenon I’d lived so long without him.
