Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
Damn these men for being so distracting.
“Fine, I’ll keep my shirt on.”
Silas sighs. “Such a tragedy.”
He’s gotten more playful now that voices aren’t plaguing him. I’m glad. But now that I have their attention, I lift my chin.
“I’ll be candid. I’m not just training you four to take out shadow fiends or bounty hunters. I’m training you to take me down whenever I lose control.”
They all stare at me for a beat.
Then Everett rubs his face. “Yeah, no. That’s not happening.”
“Yes, it is?—“
“Not. Happening,” he grits.
The others nod, all folding their arms.
Oh, now they start agreeing with each other? Fucking legacies.
“It’s going to happen. In a real fight of any decent size, I lose control and berserk. And if you four let me spill innocent blood because you’re too afraid to take me out, I’m not going to forgive that,” I say, folding my arms, too.
“This is asking too much,” Baelfire growls, shaking his head as his temper mounts. “I can’t hurt my mate. Don’t ask me to do something I’m literally fucking incapable of doing.”
I glance at Crypt. “You’ve seen the aftermath. You know I’m not myself. When I lose it, I become a literal monster.”
“A very pretty monster,” he grins. “I hardly minded the mess, love.”
“That’s because those weren’t innocents. What are you going to do if I’m berserking near humans? Families? Helpless children?”
His smile dies. He looks away.
“That’s what I thought.” I look at the rest of them, trying to drive the point home even if sharing this fucking hurts. “Of all the times I woke up covered in blood after losing control in the Nether, the worst was the time I realized Amadeus sent a human into the arena when I was already berserking. He was eleven.”
My voice is dangerously close to catching, so I clear it. “I don’t remember slaughtering him, but waking up to see what little was left…” I take a deep breath and try to push the memory back to the dark recesses of my mind, looking at them in turn. “Don’t let me become that again. I need this. Please.”
They exchange glances, wavering. Finally, Silas moves to the side and takes a ready stance.
“We will do this for you,” he mutters.
All four of them are unhappy and remain uncharacteristically quiet as we run drill after drill, but at least they aren’t fighting me on this anymore.
And for once, Crypt takes it seriously. Instead of dipping in and out of Limbo, poking fun at the others, and whispering things in my ear to try to get a reaction, he falls into a focused, deadly calm that I have to admit does something to me.
This time, when I finally spar with him one-on-one, I’m shocked to realize he’s actually…good.
Really good.
In fact, during a blindingly fast combat sequence, when I dig an elbow into his side and try to maneuver around him, he sweeps my legs out from under me, knocks my arms when I try to catch myself, blocks my instinctive attack, and pins me in a brutal hold.
We’re both trying to catch our breaths as I study him. Baelfire whistles low nearby because this is the first time any of them have managed to actually pin me without cheating.
The Nightmare Prince’s galaxy gaze is consuming and intense before he leans down to whisper against my ear. Although he’s not wearing his shirt or jacket, his sweet leather scent mixed with sunlight and clean sweat is tantalizing.
“Anything you ask for, darling, I will become for you. If you want a weapon, use me. If you need air, breathe me. I will shield you from the pain in your past. All I ask in return is that you fucking tell me when these memories are haunting you.”
I close my eyes, focusing on his heartbeat against my chest.
I’ve memorized all of their heartbeats. Four unique, steady lullabies I can’t get enough of.
“You can’t protect me from memories, Crypt.”
He nips my ear. “No? Watch me.”
Someone clears their voice nearby. When I realize it’s not one of my quintet members, I crane my neck to see Ross, who is averting his gaze as he waits to talk to me.
In his defense, the way Crypt has me pinned is almost inappropriately possessive.
“Instead of merely cutting off his hand, I should have run him through,” the Nightmare Prince mutters.
His brutality gives me butterflies.
“Your mistake,” I grin before raising my voice to a normal level. “Need something, Ross?”
“You and your quintet missed breakfast, my lady—Maven,” he corrects. “I saved some prepared enchanted plates so that you all may still eat. You deserve a far greater meal, of course, and I apologize that it’s not worthy of?—“
He’s starting to babble. If I don’t say something soon, he’s going to end up pissing off one or all of my matches. They’re testy each time he shows up, which is almost annoyingly often. I’m pretty sure the only reason they aren’t telling him to fuck off right now is because they hope this will get them out of more training.
“Thanks. We’ll be at the Great Hall soon,” I interrupt Ross.
He scurries away from the glares of my matches as Crypt finally releases me. Once I’m on my feet brushing grass off, I notice Everett’s thoughtful frown.
What is it?
I ask telepathically.
Do you think he acts like that around you because his third eye saw that you’re a saint?
I make a face. He’s sold on this whole sainthood thing, and I’m starting to think the others might believe him. But from everything I’ve heard of saints—namely, that they’re kind, selfless, nomadic humanitarians who travel the world doing great deeds, praising the gods, staying celibate, and leading boring-ass lives?—
No.
I’m not a saint. Even if I was selected to become one as a baby, which I doubt, I’m a fucking revenant now. If I met a saint, I’m sure they would try and fail to exorcise me.
We head to the Great Hall, with Silas on my left and Crypt on my right, each holding one of my hands. They all keep finding little ways to touch me, and I’m really fucking glad that whatever creeping unease remains of my haphephobia is barely noticeable around them.
No one else is at the Great Hall as we sit around one of the tables. Not even Ross, though he seems to have left all of this food steaming on platters. I don’t recognize much beyond fruit, scrambled eggs, and some bread, but Baelfire lights up when he takes in the display.
“Fuck, yes. I’m starving. Here, try this, Boo.”
He picks up a piece of bread slathered in green stuff and offers it to me.
“Hell, no. The last time you fed me weird green shit, it was revolting. I’m nauseous just thinking about it.”
“I promise I will never make you eat Jell-O again,” he laughs. “This is avocado toast. You’ll like it.”
Everett is busy rearranging my plate to substitute the meats with other foods. “He’s right, try it.”
With a sigh, I eat the stupid avocado toast. Surprisingly, it’s not horrible, despite the way it looks. I also like the ‘mixed berry medley parfait’ he makes me try next. Finally, Baelfire seems satisfied that I’m enjoying the meal and digs into his own food, as do the others—aside from Crypt. He isn’t sitting at the table anymore, instead leaning against one of the distant pillars to smoke.
I wonder again if his curse is hurting him.
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.