Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
“I know.”
We all pause, realizing that Maven is now watching us. Her dark gaze is steady, her dark hair a mess, and the straitjacket those assholes put her in is ripped and stained with blood—but gods, my mate is so strong and beautiful that it’s hard to breathe. Her scythe transforms into a clear dagger she stashes in her boot, which leaves me blinking in surprise.
Crypt swallows. His markings light up again. “Forgive me, darling.”
She gives him a hard look that is definitely a no, not bothering to hide the emotions warring under her surface. Gods, I want to pull her into a hug and promise that we’ll figure out how to keep her creepy incubus, but she quickly turns and strides toward the Frost tower.
“I’ll find a way to fix it. Come on.”
The three of us follow her toward the revolving doors, with Silas talking to the voices in his head.
My inner dragon abruptly wrenches back control, shoving me back into the tiny corner in my head as I black out and he takes over.
It’s so fucking disorienting every time.
I finally come to and try to get my bearings, but all I can figure out is that we’re indoors. It still smells like gasoline, so I must still be near Silas and Maven.
Where is she? I demand.
Covet. Taste, my dragon growls back, senseless and feral as fuck.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Maven says from somewhere nearby.
Hurt me, I try to insist, needing that pain to get control back.
I have no control over my body, so I can’t get the words out. Fuck, I miss our telepathic connection. If anything, I could’ve asked Silas or Crypt or Everett to whack me upside the head to snap me out of it, and they would’ve been all too ready to volunteer. Probably would’ve argued for who had the honor.
I pick up on the sharp scent of fear again before a woman speaks.
“Oh my gods, y—you’re a…a?—“
“She’s a breathtaking demigoddess,” Crypt supplies from close beside me.
The woman hiccups. “But you just killed all those l—legacies and…”
“Reagan. Focus. Is Everett still on the top floor?” my mate asks, gentle but firm.
“In the penthouse,” the woman agrees, sounding terrified.
Someone pulls hard on the leash around my neck. I sense my dragon’s irritation before the taste of blood fills my mouth, telling me the asshole just bit someone really fucking hard. Crypt swears viciously, but when Maven starts to say something, his voice is all reassurance.
“Don’t worry yourself, love. It’s not the first time this feral tosser’s taken a bite out of me. Better to get Frost back before the new wisps you just introduced to Limbo break free.”
EVERETT
I never wanted to learn fencing.
When I was six years old, I figured out I could make snowballs in my bare hands whenever I felt like it. Whenever I got bored during my first year of private tutoring, I’d throw a snowball at the tutor.
I thought it would be fine. After all, the tutor was nicer than most other adults in the mansion I was raised in, probably because she was a human who came from nothing who believed kids should be allowed to be kids.
She thought my snowball pranks were funny the first few times. But eventually, she mentioned my newfound playfulness to my parents’ quintet.
They punished me by making me watch as they severely reprimanded her, fired her without pay, and kicked her out the door while she was still sobbing. Then they hired a fire elemental tutor who melted anything I dared create during class.
Corbin, one of my father’s quintet members, called me an undisciplined, rambunctious rascal and said the best way for me to get out my “godsforsaken childish energy” was if I had an outlet for it—fencing, they decided.
The first few practices were brutal. The equipment was heavy. The private instructor shouted at me the entire time. I left sore, bruised, and frustrated. I wasn’t good at it, so I started to hate it.
When Alaric learned I was shit at fencing at the grand old age of six, he sat me down and calmly explained that he would find a competent heir somewhere else if I kept turning out to be an embarrassment to the Frost name. Back then, I still cared about making my family proud. It was all I was taught to care about, so I returned to my fencing class the next day and kept my mouth shut when I left with welts and bruises.
A couple of years later, they added swordfighting to my fencing lessons.
Every day, I worked to become the best. Even long after I realized how much I hated my last name and everything that came with it, I practiced out of spite. Twenty-one years later, whether I’m holding a sword or an épée, it becomes an extension of me.
But I never enjoyed it.
Until now.
With a flick of my wrist, the tip of my sword slashes through Alaric’s face, leaving a cut that’s almost a perfect mirror to the scar marring my face.
He swears, choking as he covers his face. He’s lying on the floor, scrambling back toward the floor-to-ceiling glass wall as this penthouse filled with ice continues to frost over. After Maven’s revelatory words and the divine fury she began raining down on the elite legacies in front of Arati’s temple, my parents freaked out.
They were ready to run and leave me frozen to the couch, but ghosts—fucking visible ghosts
—appeared out of nowhere and furiously swarmed my mother. She’s now dead on the ground several yards away, foam frozen around her mouth as she stares sightlessly at the ceiling.
Whatever gave them the ability to end my mother, the ghosts vanished—except for the one that freed me. I nearly had a damn heart attack when one of them passed into me next, but all it did was shatter the ice and rip through the straitjacket, freeing me.
I’d grabbed a sword off the wall to stop Alaric from making a run for the elevator, and it quickly became Frost against Frost.
He’s been putting up one hell of a fight, for someone who just lost his quintet bond. Even though I still can’t summon ice, I’ve barely been able to melt each of his attacks. Now I stand over him, glowering down as he clutches his bleeding face and wheezes, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he shakes and swears.
I’ll never forget what it felt like to lose my bond to Maven. It’s the moment all my nightmares are made of. As a keeper with four freshly broken bonds, he must be in agony.
Good.
Spitting out blood, my father sneers up at me. For once in my life, he doesn’t look perfectly polished. “Enough. You wouldn’t kill me, so put down the sword.”
I scoff, letting the tip of my sword bend the flesh at his neck. “I’ll show you how wrong you are as soon as you tell me where the stolen etherium for your safe haven’s shield is.”
The second they live streamed my keeper’s face to the rest of the surviving world to prove she was back, I realized shit is about to hit the fan if we survive this. People were already way too fucking comfortable talking about my dead keeper and feeding off her posthumous fame.
Now, news of her return and her true identity will spread like wildfire. Countless people will be trying to get to my snowdrop—to see her for themselves, to attack her, to marvel at her…whatever the fuck it will be, they’ll want to get close to her.
Which means it’s only a matter of time before the news of her reaches the Entity.
I want another shield to keep her extra safe from it all, once we get back.
Alaric grips at the center of his chest as the pain from losing his quintet continues to sink in. His cold, pale gaze is almost wild with desperation. “You want it, you have to spare my life.”
The smile I give him is humorless. “So you can live for what? Your safe haven? Your quintet? Your precious Frost name? That’s all gone now. Come to think of it, I can just look for the etherium myself, so if you have nothing else to say?—“
I move my sword, fully ready to slit his throat, wipe my hands clean of the Frosts entirely, and go looking for Maven. But Alaric shouts in alarm, holding up his hands. I don’t miss that he tries to summon ice again in one last attempt to harm me, but he’s too weakened from losing his matches and tapped out from our fight.
I smirk when he’s left panting, scrambling back until his back hits the frosted glass. I follow, replacing my sword at his neck as he splutters, making one last desperate attempt to survive me.
“Y—your sister!” he sputters.
That makes me halt, unease settling in my gut.
After the chaos of the Upheaval, I had been so lost to soul-crushing grief and depression that I didn’t go looking for Heidi until four months ago. Even after sending Douglas and his hellhound to track her, I was never able to find her—or Ian, for that matter. The vampire I’ve known since childhood was fully aware that my sister has always been my top priority for him to keep an eye on, but he was no longer in Hawaii, where he went into hiding after faking his death.
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.