Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
I can barely get the words out as I put the pieces together. “Who touched you?”
She lets out a shaky breath and throws the steel wool to the ground, grabbing the soap instead and slathering it over her arms, neck, and stomach.
They touched her stomach.
Red creeps into my vision as my throat burns.
“Maven.
Who the fuck touched you?”
I whisper.
She makes a gagging sound and drops the soap to cover her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. Seeing her like this is ripping me to shreds. I want to pull her close and heal her damaged skin and beg for names so I can find whoever did this to her and paint the castle red with their blood.
But when Maven finally manages to speak, she whispers, “It’s nothing. Wait outside for me.”
She stoops as if going for the steel wool again, but I swipe it off the ground as I leave, refusing to let her touch it again.
In the quintet’s entry room beside the kitchen, Bael is still gripping his head in residual pain, but he looks over as I storm into the room.
“What’s going on? Is she?—“
I left the door to the bathroom ajar, so we both hear the faintest sniffle from the shower.
That has him on his feet immediately, but I put up a hand to stop him and nod to the dining room table instead. “We’re going to wait here for her.”
“But—“
“You do not want to argue with me right now, Baelfire,” I warn.
Any other day, he’d see that as a challenge, but the youngest Decimus looks utterly defeated as he slumps into one of the dining room chairs, frowning impatiently at the hallway. I sit, too, and rub my temples as I try to reign in my lingering fury and bloodlust from witnessing Maven in that state.
It’s ten minutes before the shower shuts off, and another ten minutes later, Maven emerges from the hallway. She’s wrapped in a white bathrobe that conceals the scrapes I know cover much of her body, and otherwise, our keeper is composed again. She holds her head high as she sits at the end of the dining room table, regarding us both in solemn silence.
Even Baelfire doesn’t disturb the quiet as we wait for what she has to say.
Finally, Maven clears her throat. “It’s come to my attention that I have a weakness that can too easily be extorted. I want to fix that, so I’m asking for your assistance.”
Bael studies her. “Assistance? What do you?—“
“Exposure therapy,” she clarifies. “I need to get over my fear of touch.”
I stare at her before looking down at the sticky, red-coated crystal that I still hold in one hand. “No. I didn’t realize how severe it was until now, but I am not putting you through more of that.”
She lifts her chin. “I’m asking you to. Fixing my haphephobia will be torture and not the fun kind, but it’s a necessary evil. Also,” she adds, cutting off another of my protests. “If you agree to help me, I’ll offer some answers.”
I want to understand my keeper more than I want anything, save breaking my curse, so I carefully ask, “You’ll answer our questions?”
Maven watches us as if bracing herself for a strong reaction. “Yes. Considering you two already know I’m from the Nether, I think some transparency is in order.”
I nod, but the wariness doesn’t leave her shoulders. My sangfluir still expects us to attack her for being a Nether escapee.
Incomprehensible.
Baelfire perks up. “Finally! Like I already fucking said, we need to put all cards on the table. Our quintet needs it.” Then he pauses and makes a face. “Although, I guess only half our quintet is here, which is pretty damn inconvenient.”
The fact that Crypt hasn’t turned up is mildly concerning. I could never miss that murderous fucking bastard, not in a million years, but his absence might be a sign of something malicious going on.
Everett’s absence, on the other hand, is for the best.
Maven drags her damp hair over one shoulder. With her dark hair and olive complexion, she looks stunning in white. I try to focus on what she’s saying and not that she looks positively edible when wet like this.
“They’ll join us later, or they won’t. Either way, let’s establish a few things. I know both of your curses. Silas, you hear voices, and you’re going insane. Baelfire, your dragon starts to take control if you don’t hunt. Is that right?”
I grimace in agreement. Unfortunately, mine is becoming impossible to miss. I could share that the voices tormenting me are none other than those of my deceased family members or how they taunt me with the promise of peace if I just put myself out of my misery. But those are dark truths I doubt anyone cares to know.
Baelfire nods, worn out from fending off his dragon earlier. “Yeah, I have to hunt and kill something every day. If I don’t, I’ll lose my marbles bit by bit, Silas style.”
I scowl at him, but Maven tips her head. “And that makes your dragon stronger?”
“Something like that. My curse didn’t really set in until I was five. When my parents saw me losing control constantly, shifting without being able to shift back, throwing dragon-sized tantrums, and basically being a little shithead…they realized I must have the same curse that my uncle did. He was never given a quintet and never got to break his curse. He could hunt to appease it, too, but when he stopped doing that, he ended up shifting into a dragon.
Permanently. He was completely replaced by the beast, and my asshole of a dragon wouldn’t fucking hesitate to do the same thing to me.”
Maven absorbs that for a moment. “What happened to your uncle?”
“He was put to death by the Legacy Council. They didn’t like the idea of a dragon flying around outside of their control. Said he posed a risk to humans. Which he did,” he shrugs.
I remember when that happened. Gruesome as it is, that was the last time a large batch of dragon scales was harvested, but those ones are all but gone now.
Hence why I need Baelfire’s.
“Your turn, Mayflower,” Bael urges. “Give us an answer about you. Tell us why you were in the headmaster’s office.”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “To kill him. But a changeling beat me to it.”
He blinks. “Oh, shit. How the fuck did a changeling get into Everbound? And why did it take out Hearst?”
“Changelings in the mortal realm are mercenaries only motivated by money and feeding on memories. It must have a master somewhere who wanted Hearst dead,” Maven shrugs. “But now it’s trapped here with the rest of us and the Immortal Quintet hunting for it.”
Things click together in my head. “That’s who poisoned you. The one you’re looking for.”
“The one I’m going to kill tonight,” she nods as if she’s describing taking a stroll.
Baelfire’s jaw clenches. “Not without my help, Mayflower.”
“And mine.”
I expect Maven to refuse immediately, so it’s a pleasant surprise when she studies the two of us for a long moment before sighing.
“How strong are your stomachs?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m going to torture this changeling, and oddly enough, not everyone enjoys that.”
For nine years, I observed the Garnet Wizard torture anyone who attempted to trespass in his sanctuary without authorization. His punishments were brutal, and he occasionally asked for my help conducting magical experiments on those trespassers.
I’m no sadist, but I am well-versed in things like this.
“I can handle it,” I say, smirking across at the dragon shifter. “Baelfire is far too soft, though. He should sit this one out. He once fainted watching a horse give birth on my parents’ estate, back when they were alive to have one.”
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.