Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
And again, far more concise than usual.
Silas looks back at me, his expression intense. “The Scarab is…” His mouth moves, but his voice cuts off, and he huffs. “I know who we’re looking for and where to find him. I can do the transportation spell, but I’ll need to feed?—“
Before he’s finished speaking, I sheath Pierce and step forward, pulling my hair away from one side of my neck.
“Take it.”
“No,” Everett cuts in, stepping in front of me. “She’s lost enough blood as it is. Drink from someone else.”
I start to argue that he could literally drink all of my blood, and I’d still wake up just fine sooner or later, but Crypt holds out his wrist.
“Quicky now, Crane. Before more meddling hounds descend.”
Silas pulls a face, but being a pragmatic fae, he bites into the incubus’s wrist. Crypt doesn’t even flinch.
But the moment Silas swallows, he breaks away, choking on and promptly heaving Crypt’s blood back up into the nearest snow drift.
Shit.
What if…
I awkwardly rub Silas’s back in the most supportive gesture I can manage. When he’s no longer gagging, I offer a reassuring smile and use one of my dark sweater’s too-long sleeves to wipe lingering red off his face.
“I think you have to feed from me.”
He considers that and nods wearily before casting a disgusted look at Crypt. “Your blood is revolting, by the way. It tastes like carbonated battery acid.”
Crypt hums. “Not nearly as nice as Maven’s, as I’ve discovered. Her blood is just as lovely as she is.”
He’s just saying that to get a rise out of Silas, and it seems like it’s working. Actually, it seems like his boat-rocking is beginning to piss off the others, too, since they’re still annoyed from that little phone call.
I look over at Douglas and notice he’s starting to stir, groaning quietly. With a sigh, I withdraw Pierce and walk back to him as his eyes flutter open.
“Too soon. Back to sleep.”
Slamming the dagger’s blunt end into his opposite temple, I watch as he blacks out again. He’ll wake up with a fucking nasty concussion and a raging headache. Shaking out my hand, I turn back to the others. They’re all frowning at me.
“Why leave him alive?” Silas frowns. “That seems uncharacteristic of you.”
I shrug. “It is, but I like him.”
Baelfire growls. “You what?
That’s it, I’m with Si. Let’s kill the guy.”
“Slowly and violently,” Crypt agrees. “I call dibs.”
“Fine by me. I think we’ll all like him more when he’s dead,” Everett adds crisply.
Gods. They’re all so jealous and over the top, it’s damn near toxic.
I love it.
“Are we worried about Douglas tracing your magic where we’re going?” I ask Silas.
He shakes his head, his pupils dilating when I offer the side of my neck again. He cradles the other side of my neck with his hand, tenderly brushing his lips against the place he’s about to bite.
No, my blood blossom, he says telepathically in fae.
No one will be able to breach where we’re going.
Good. Then bite me. It’s time we meet The Scarab.
BAELFIRE
When Silas’s red magic fades, we’re standing under a dark sky, like it’s about to turn twilight. Snow billows around us, sliding across a white landscape spotted with a few spruce trees. I’ve flown to a lot of remote wildernesses to hunt over the years, and if I were a betting legacy, I’d say we’re somewhere in the Arctic Circle.
That would explain the subzero temperature.
Crypt immediately drops into Limbo to scout. A gust of wind sends a waft of Maven’s addictive, delicate scent to me, and I glance down to see that she’s already shivering. The cold doesn’t affect me, but even though my mate is the toughest fucking person I’ve ever met, she needs a coat ASAP.
“Here, Boo.” I wrap my arms around her.
She groans with relief, even though she’s still shaking. “Fuck, you’re warm.”
Pin her. Claim her. Mine, mine, mine?
—
I grit my teeth against the sharp urge to bite the side of Maven’s neck. My inner dragon starts snarling and pitching a fit, aching to hunt and kill if he can’t permanently mark our mate right this second.
Even though I killed a couple of hellhounds back there, it hasn’t helped much. My dragon’s always been an impatient asshole, but it’s ten times worse lately. When he pushes at the boundary inside my head again, trying to take control, I squeeze my eyes shut and fight like hell to keep him from attempting to kill Everett or one of the others again.
Maven’s gloved hand gently squeezes my arm. I realize she’s looking up at me with a question in her eyes, brow furrowed.
“I’m good,” I say, not wanting her to worry.
Even though I’m really fucking not good.
Silas has me lift an arm so he can check on Maven’s wounds. “Forgive me, sangfluir. I should have warned you about the cold, but I promise it won’t be for long. We’ll be untraceable by the time Douglas awakens and traces my magical signature here.”
Everett slides out of his coat, and I help him wrap it around Maven. Obviously the walking Popsicle doesn’t need a coat, so I bet he put it on earlier in case she would need one.
Kinda respect that.
She accepts it, her dark gaze sweeping over our surroundings curiously.
“We’re in far northern Alaska,” Silas explains before whispering more creepy-ass-sounding words as he slowly heals our keeper’s stomach and her neck where he bit her.
His nose starts to bleed from whatever magic shit he’s doing, but he wipes it quickly away, ignoring Maven’s sharp look.
“This is the midst of polar night, hence the darkness. The sun won’t rise much above the horizon for weeks.”
She’s still staring hard at him. He sighs and gives her a placating look. Everett rolls his eyes.
Another silent fucking conversation. I’m starting to understand why it gets under Crypt’s skin so much.
Speaking of the stalker, Crypt reappears, tipping his head at Silas. “There is nothing for miles save a barren expanse I cannot enter. Almost as if it’s an inhabited dwelling. Care to explain?”
Silas takes Maven’s gloved hand and begins walking in the direction we need to go. “If I could, I would have by now. Everyone who comes here is sworn to the utmost secrecy.”
I take her other hand, so hopefully, she’ll be a bit warmer. I want to pick her up and cradle her little body against the cold wind, but I learned my lesson after the last time—my fierce little keeper doesn’t like to be pampered.
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