Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
It’s late. Past midnight. The “student curfew” at Everbound is eleven o’clock, but not a soul here pays attention to it, not even the instructors. Still, the dim hall I walk is empty as I eye my surroundings, hands still trembling in my pockets.
It’s just a shadow, Si, my mother’s voice echoes, but this time, it’s a memory, not a voice in my head.
That’s what they’ll tell you. They think it’s silly to be afraid of the dark. But you and I both know that darkness is danger. After all, it’s easier to kill when they don’t see it coming.
My father’s voice is firm.
That’s why we never turn out the lights in this house. We don’t want to find out what our curse will drive us to do to each other in the dark.
“There you are,” Everett’s voice cuts in, startling me.
I don’t realize I’ve moved until he inhales sharply. I have him pinned to the wall by the neck, my bloodied crystal poised above his carotid artery, pressing into his skin enough that he doesn’t even dare to swallow. Or rather, he can’t because I’ve cut off his oxygen. To his credit, he doesn’t overreact or struggle.
When Baelfire speaks, I realize he’s standing just beside us. “Silas. Relax.”
They just turned the corner and took me by surprise. Odd that they were looking for me together since they’ve been on terrible terms for years.
Not odd. They’re both waiting for the right moment to rip your heart out.
Everett makes a slight sound in his throat when my unsteady grip finally causes the crystal to prick his neck. When it does, frost blooms across his skin, traveling to coat my hand and seal his injury before it even has the chance to bleed. A small flurry starts in the hallway, a subtle warning that he’s not as calm as he’s acting.
“I don’t think Maven wants you choking the life out of her so-called favorite.
Even if I do understand the sentiment behind it,” Bael grumbles.
Maven.
Right. I was coming to find her.
Gradually regaining control, I drop Everett and step back, warming my frozen hand in my pocket as Baelfire raises a brow.
“Judge all you like. Your curse comes with a balm to bear it easier. Mine has no such thing.”
Everett inhales several gulps of air and brushes himself off, shooting me a nasty look. “Dick.”
“You know better than to take me by surprise.”
Bael grunts in agreement but gestures at me. “We were going to finalize our wagers, but you look like shit. Maybe you need to take a beat.”
He shouldn’t say things like that out here in the open. Someone might overhear that I’m vulnerable. Instead of pointing that out, I lead them to a hallway that branches off the nearby library. I know voices don’t carry here, and this hall is often forgotten. Pricking my finger to lay a cloaking spell, I turn to face the two of them.
But I don’t let go of the crystal. If ever they were looking for a time to get me alone and finish me off, this would be it. They know I’m off balance right now, but that doesn’t make me less dangerous in a fight. Quite the opposite.
“I’m joining the wager,” Everett finally says.
Baelfire rolls his eyes. “No shit. I figured you would since my mate has taken an inexplicable liking to you. What’d you even say to her earlier, at lunch?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know? Anyway, it seems she’s already picked me first.”
I shake my head. “Not officially. This competition needs a clearer finishing line.”
“Fine. We’ll say whoever fucks her first wins.”
Baelfire’s snarl is fierce. “I swear on all six gods, if you try to pressure Maven into sleeping with you, I’m going to fucking?—“
“Ever the hypocrite,” I interrupt. “You’ve been panting after her like a bitch in heat. If anyone is going to push her limits before she’s ready, it will be you. And if that happens, you’ll be answering to me.”
Bael’s eyes connect with mine, and the feral edge of violence in them makes it clear he’s just as ready for a fight as I am right now. Perhaps he needs to go hunting again.
“I’d sooner cut off my dragon’s wings than upset Maven. We should be more concerned about Crypt crossing her lines about physical touch before we even know why she has them there.
Who’s to say he won’t manipulate her dreams to make her do shit that she’ll wake up horrified about?”
As if on cue, the Nightmare Prince appears beside us. Everett flinches back as the room chills, and I swear viciously—
this is precisely why I need to break my curse. Usually, my magic would be far more potent, and I would have known he was within my magic wards, even in Limbo.
“Fucking creep,” Bael balls his hands into fists.
The incubus casually boosts himself up to sit on a large decorative antique console table, which I’m fairly sure is older than his immortal father. He yawns.
“You didn’t expect me to miss our little pow-wow, did you? If it concerns Maven, it concerns me.”
“Yeah, right,” Everett scoffs, adjusting his tie. “Not a single thing has ever concerned you. You’re incapable of feeling anything remotely like an emotion, which is exactly why you’re a well-documented psychopath.”
“That has been my lot in life,” Crypt agrees breezily. “It’s been quite boring. Until now. Our little keeper is far from boring. Just look what she’s done already, bringing us together to speak like civilized monsters in the dark of the night. One would almost think our past slights were all water under the bridge,” he smirks at me.
Past slights.
An insultingly mild term for what he did to my family.
“Whatever you say, freak. Moving on to final bets,” Bael folds his arms, glancing between us. “Frost, I still want that land. And from Silas, I’ll take a custom spell of my choosing whenever I ask for it. Crypt, I’d want you to make a godsdamned blood oath to stay the fuck out of my head for the rest of my life.”
Blood oaths are utterly powerful—said to transcend lifetimes and even the five planes of existence. Virtually unbreakable, it would ensure even a deviant like Crypt would have to abide by the magical contract.
“There you go, flattering yourself again,” Crypt muses. “There’s nothing interesting in your subconscious anyway. Silas’s is far more entertaining.”
My fists clench. I’m perfectly aware that he’s just needling me. He’s never been in my subconscious. But everyone present knows that his just suggesting the idea is going to have me paranoid out of my mind for weeks.
Everett leans against the wall, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t decided what prizes I’ll claim, but expect them to take a toll.”
I nod. “I still want the scales. And from the Frost estate, I’ll want free rein to browse your family’s ledgers and past records.”
Everett scowls at this, which doesn’t surprise me. Thanks to the Decimus family, the Frosts have been exposed for many illegal activities over the years.
I turn my glare to Crypt. If my nerves were chalkboard, he’d be the jagged nails scraping across every square inch of it.
He grins. “Go on. We all know I have nothing of value.”
“If I win, I get to enter your subconscious.”
Baelfire whistles low. For once, the arrogant amusement on the Nightmare Prince’s face drops away. The other two look between us, as curious as I am if this will drive Crypt to showcase his least enjoyable character trait—unpredictability. It’s impossible to tell when he’ll snap, going from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye, but we’ve all seen it at one time or another.
Which is why I want to see inside his head. For incubi, letting someone else into their subconscious is incredibly rare, usually only done with a spouse or their chosen muse. Someone they trust completely.
But if I can figure out what makes him tick, perhaps I won’t end up losing my temper and killing him after we’re all bonded and capable of telepathic communication. Particularly powerful quintets can experience one another’s thoughts, feelings, desires, and so on. Unless I find a new way to deal with Crypt in his subconscious, I’ll end up killing him if I have to share any amount of headspace with him.
I’d like to spare Maven that unpleasantry.
Instead of responding to the severity of my wager, Crypt looks out the window of this moonlit hallway as he pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, the brief flash of flame fading before he takes a long drag and exhales a puff of smoke. The sickly sweet scent of it tells me it isn’t a regular cigarette—and I frown when I can’t identify what it is he’s smoking. I know every type of tobacco, herb, and plant under the sun, so what could it be?
“Odd that Maven arrived so late in the semester, isn’t it?”
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.