Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
“At the top is Paradise,” he orates. “Home of the gods. Mortals aren’t admitted there, even after death. Below that is where we are now. Earth, also known as the Mortal Realm. The middle layer, which is easily forgotten much of the time, is Limbo—the plane of existence where only strong incubi can navigate while conscious, although every living thing’s subconscious dallies there when they’re fast asleep.”
At the reminder of Limbo, I abruptly wonder if Silas and Baelfire aren’t the only matches who’ve bothered me today. Is Crypt here somewhere, unseen but watching me?
Yes. I can’t describe how I can tell he’s nearby, but I suddenly know with certainty that he is. It’s a subconscious feeling I didn’t notice until this moment.
Gods, I really need to shake these guys.
“Come on,” Baelfire presses quietly. “Just five questions. You can pass any you don’t like.”
“Shh.”
The professor goes on. “As you all know, beneath Limbo is the Nether, the parasitic layer of existence that we legacies are in charge of keeping at bay to keep it from getting a foothold in the Mortal Realm. It’s a disturbing, lifeless void filled with the undead, shadows, monsters, and other unpleasantries, to put it lightly.”
He taps the board. “And finally, below the Nether is the Beyond. It’s where we all go after death, sent off to be sorted into our respective afterlives by Sachar, the judge and ruler of that unscalable realm. Souls don’t come back from the Beyond—not even the gods, according to my favorite theologian, Forner. Forner wrote extensively on the death of the goddess Reniah during the Great Wars when humans and legacies…”
The lesson continues, but I’m focused on the illustrations. Most legacies here grew up hearing about the five planes of existence. I heard about them, too, though my education growing up was different from my peers.
Finishing my notes, I glance at an empty row to my right and down a few steps.
It looks empty, anyway. But when I narrow my eyes in suspicion, the Nightmare Prince flickers into view for barely a fraction of a second. He’s sitting on the desk, looking half amused as he takes a drag from an odd-looking cigarette. And just before he disappears back into Limbo, he blows me a godsdamned kiss, leaving nothing but smoke behind.
It happens so fast that when Baelfire glances over to see what I’m glowering at, he misses Crypt altogether.
“Someone bothering you, baby?”
“You are. There. That’s one question answered. You have four left.”
He grins, looking pleased at my answer instead of frustrated as I’d hoped he would be. “What kind of caster are you?”
I pretend he never spoke, turning back to the front of the classroom.
Bael leans an elbow on the desk and rests his chin on his fist. “That’s fine. Didn’t expect you to answer that one anyway, Miss Mysterious. How about this instead: favorite ice cream flavor?”
“Pass.”
“Seriously? Why? It’s just ice cream. Okay, how about…favorite flower?”
That’s harmless enough. “Dead snapdragons.”
He frowns. “Why dead?”
“Because when they shrivel up, they resemble tiny human skulls.”
It’s surprisingly difficult to keep from laughing at the expression that crosses his face—a mix of taken aback, confusion, amusement, and something like concern.
“Okay then. As far as flowers go, that’s pretty damn metal.” Then he shakes his head at me, his smile warming so it feels far hotter in this room in the blink of an eye. “I fucking love that my mate is secretly a little on the kooky side.”
More than a little.
Still, his casually dropping the l and m words together extinguishes any bit of mirth I felt a moment ago. I turn back to my notes with icy composure. “I am not your mate.”
“Keep telling yourself that. So. My next question is…”
I don’t hear the rest of the words coming out of his mouth because my hearing short-circuits when Baelfire absentmindedly reaches up to adjust some of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. The brush of his warm knuckle against my temple has my spine going ramrod straight. I lean away from him as my lungs clench, unable to keep the sharpness out of my voice.
“No touching.”
Baelfire freezes before pulling his hand back. His brows draw together as he studies me, confusion and alarm warring in his molten gaze. “Shit, I didn’t know that was…I’m sorry.”
He’s silent, frowning at the desk in front of us as I listen to the end of Professor Crowley’s lecture. Class ends, and the other legacies start to file out. Some of them get Baelfire’s attention with waves or hellos. And from the way he interacts with them, shaking off whatever was bothering him to smile and make effortless conversation with everyone else, I can tell Kenzie was right about him having what she calls “rizz.” It’s obvious he’s naturally a social butterfly.
But I notice that whenever the other students so much as glance in my direction, Bael steps in front of me slightly. It’s a barely noticeable gesture, but he’s making it crystal clear that they don’t get to talk to me unless I want it. Which means that I don’t have to have a single conversation with my peers who have been whispering about me since yesterday’s Seeking.
I admit it’s convenient to have this massive dragon shifter shield to keep me from all the idiotic small talk.
That doesn’t mean he’s not an overly persistent pain in the ass.
I’m the last to leave, with Baelfire strolling beside me. And I’m almost certain Crypt is, too. Maybe I should just wear a dreamcatcher as a necklace all the fucking time to keep him away. If only there were an easy repellant for all my no-longer-matches.
“Wanna go to Halfton for lunch after your next class?” he asks.
“Not with you.”
“Ouch. Careful with my heart, Boo. It’s far more fragile than I am,” he laments theatrically.
I roll my eyes. “You’re now down to three questions.”
“Noted. So why the no touching rule?”
I’m not about to open that can of worms, now or ever. Instead of answering, I pause in the hallway to frown at him as I recall something he said earlier. “What was the other?”
“Hmm?”
“Earlier, you said you made two long lists. One was questions. What was the other?” Normally, curiosity doesn’t faze me, but it irks me that he never expounded on that.
Baelfire’s grin turns wicked, and he bites his lower lip. “All the ways I plan on worshipping you in bed. It took up too many pages, and I got sidetracked a couple of times jacking off just thinking about it all.”
Oh.
Gods. He’s such an oversharing idiot. That’s not a mental image I want in my head…mostly because it is impossible to think of anything else now. A small part of me wants to see this list. Call me morbidly curious, not to mention a glutton for punishment, because it’s not as if any of the scenarios he wrote down will ever play out.
Ignoring the oddly fluttery sensation in my gut, I resume the trek to the eating hall. Baelfire keeps up easily. Of course, he does. His legs dwarf mine because he’s fucking giant.
I descend a staircase and walk into Everbound’s massive dining hall. It’s an impressive display, with large tables and seating for hundreds, a cafeteria, several small chain restaurants operating along one half of the long room, and a vaulted ceiling made of arched glass high above. The other wall is a series of tall arched windows that give a fantastic view of the wintry woods in the distance.
It’s not crowded right now, which makes it easier for Silas Crane to spot us the moment we walk in. His scarlet eyes hold mine from across the room, but he motions at Baelfire.
“He wants us to sit by him,” Baelfire mumbles. “Selfish dick. It’s my time with you. He had this morning.”
As with the first time I met my matches, I pick up on a slight edge between them as Baelfire and Silas have a silent conversation I don’t understand. Though whatever tension is between them seems mild compared to how obviously Silas disdained Crypt—or the way Everett and Baelfire made jabs at each other.
Fine by me. If they’re not friends, that makes breaking up our quintet easier.
Silas gestures for me to come to him. He picked out a good table, away from the bulk of other legacies chatting as they chow down. If I’m honest, it’s my favorite place to sit in the dining hall. But instead of going to him, I turn and walk to a table in the opposite corner.
Bael follows with a quiet laugh. “You’re so damn cute.”
“No. I’m not.”
“You’re like an adorable little raincloud. I get the feeling you’d be cuddly, too, if you just gave me a chance and lifted the no-touching rule.”
I sit at the table and fix him with a look. “If you try to cuddle me, I’ll hex you so that you shit thunder for a month.”
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.