Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
?”
The others are also staring. Crypt didn’t get food—he never does, since apparently he just eats dreams—but he looks positively delighted with this new development. Silas arches a brow at me.
“I promised one day of the real me. Don’t get used to it.” I take a bite.
Everett sits down on my side of the table, several seats down, presumably so we won’t have to look at each other. He clearly doesn’t want to be here…but then why the fuck did he create this snowstorm and show up? Did they bribe him? I’m genuinely confused about his part in this forced group getaway.
As we eat, Crypt props his feet up on the table, lounging with his seat tipped back. When pulls out a lighter and cigarette, Everett shoots him a dirty look.
“You can’t smoke in here.”
“Let’s test that theory.” The incubus lights one and draws deeply from it, blowing the smoke in Everett’s direction. “Oh, look. Yes, I can.”
The elemental’s eyes narrow, and a thick sheet of ice suddenly crackles beneath Crypt’s leaning chair, making it slip and sending him tumbling. But the Nightmare Prince vanishes into Limbo before the dining chair even hits the ground.
Silas rolls his eyes and uses basic magic to cast a protective charm over his food. It’s something a lot of casters do, ensuring their food is perfectly safe…like from poisoning, for example. Seems excessive, but that just further proves he truly has paranoia.
Baelfire snorts, catching my attention. “So. Growing up with humans, did you have shit like this happen at dinner? Neurotic fae, vanishing psychopaths, PMSing popsicles?”
“Shut up, dragon,” Everett grumbles.
“You forgot the egotistical golden retriever.” Silas lifts his glass of water like a toast. I don’t know what magic he does, but it suddenly darkens into a dark amber mead that he sips.
“Golden dragon. Way more loyal than a dog and a hundred times sexier,” Baelfire corrects.
“And so very humble,” Silas rolls his eyes.
I’ve tried to ignore my curiosity about their dynamic since we met, but if I’m letting myself relax slightly around them for the next day, I may as well ask.
“I take it you four grew up together?”
Crypt reappears in the chair directly beside Silas and grins wider when the blood fae glares at him. “Their parents hoped we would all become friends. I’m still waiting for the friendship bracelets.”
Baelfire huffs as he pushes his already-empty plate away. I’m always amazed at how quickly shifters can put so much down. “We all come from pretty damn high-profile families, and legacies tend to try getting their children to befriend other powerful legacy children. They ran in the same circles, so we were around each other a lot as kids.”
“But you’re not friends,” I say. It’s not a question.
They exchange glances with one another, and once again, it becomes clear that there are past disputes lingering between them—Baelfire and Everett, Silas and Crypt. Though even Everett seems to dislike the Nightmare Prince, and Baelfire and Silas are a long shot from seeming like pals.
Silas sets down his drink and gives me a serious look. “No. We’re not. But we promise our past altercations won’t get in the way of us being a quintet you’ll be proud to be the keeper of.”
The others don’t disagree, which tells me they’ve discussed this between themselves.
“We’ll deal with our own shit. It will never be your job to break up any dogfights between us. And we’ll try to keep the fighting over you to a minimum,” Baelfire adds teasingly.
“Too bad. I enjoy spectating a good fight.”
That seems to take all four of them aback, but Crypt laughs. “I like it when you’re playful, darling.”
Another thought occurs to me, and I study them. “Do you know each other’s curses?”
That adds another level of tension to their shoulders, and I don’t miss the way Silas sends a harsh look to Baelfire as if to remind him to keep his mouth shut.
“We know each other’s weaknesses,” Crypt says cheerfully, flipping his lighter on and off. “Whether they’re curse-related or not is anyone’s guess.”
Baelfire leans across the table, curiosity written all over his face. “A much better question is…as an atypical caster, you don’t even have a curse, right?”
It’s true. Atypical casters aren’t affected by the Legacy Curse at birth. Though I suppose my condition is worse than most curses I’ve heard of. Not that I’d tell them that, now or ever.
“Actually, I have four.” I look at them each in turn meaningfully.
Silas’s mouth curls up. “So you finally admit we belong to you?”
“Yes, in the same way a raging infection belongs to a leper.”
I offer the insult sweetly before picking up my own glass of water. Before I can lift it to my lips, Silas waves his hand and mutters the same magic word he did earlier, and the liquid darkens into something rich and smooth. When I hesitate, he raises a daring brow.
“Fae mead,” he explains. “For my favorite leper.”
Everett stiffens in his seat where he’s been picking at his food without really eating anything, and for the first time, he looks directly at me. “Don’t drink it. It’s always a mistake to drink anything at this asshole’s whim. The last time I did, I nearly died.”
“As if I would spike her drink with kraken ink,” Silas rolls his eyes. “Fae mead is perfectly safe.”
Kraken ink? Maybe their past issues with each other are more murderous than I realized.
Baelfire snorts. “Only if you have an iron stomach. Are you a lightweight, baby? If you are, don’t even take a sip. That shit’s heartless.”
Maybe it’s from watching their banter and finally letting my walls down bit by bit, but suddenly, the daring look Silas is giving me is irresistible.
They want to know the real me? Fine.
Tipping the glass back, I down it. All of it. The flavor is unexpected but pleasant, the alcohol warming me up from the inside out. By the time I’m done and I set the glass down, even Silas looks impressed but faintly alarmed.
Swiping a drop from my lips with my pinky, I pop it into my mouth and shrug. “So am I.”
Bael’s attention is pinned on my mouth. “Fuck me, that was hot.”
Oh. I didn’t think that through. Now, I have the undivided attention of four ravenous legacies. It doesn’t help that the fae mead is spreading as a pleasant warmth throughout my system, relaxing my muscles and loosening my tongue. It’s not as heady as the buzz I get from a kill, but this is still dangerous territory.
What if I let something slip in this state?
Better to retreat.
Standing, I grab my plate and walk to the kitchen. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed early.”
“Wait.” Baelfire hurries after me. “Stay a little longer. What about dessert?”
I want all of you for dessert.
No. Bad Maven. This is why I avoid alcohol.
Silas is suddenly on my other side, gingerly taking the plate from my hands to put it in the sink himself. “You promised to give us a chance.”
“No, I promised a day of pretending we’re a real quintet. Even though we never will be,” I tack on forcefully because it’s imperative that they finally grasp that.
“This was hardly a full day. Keep your promise and give us tomorrow.”
I scowl. “I will not just play house with you four all day. I came here for a reason.”
Shit. What was my excuse again? I can’t think of it when they’re both so close looking at me like this while the fae mead starts to kick in.
“Right. The wedding. We’ll be your dates,” Baelfire beams. “Everett will get rid of the snowstorm once you promise we can go with you.”
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.