Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
“Okay, here it is. Fae craftsmen tried to incorporate this
—” He lifts the shard. “Into their designs, but could find no way of working with the substance. It’s called etherium and comes from Paradise. Supposedly, it can be endowed with extremely high levels of magic and enchanted to work in all manner of ways. The fae were fascinated by it but never used it much because only holy magic works on etherium. Oh—holy magic comes from the gods…so only their chosen saints, prophets, priests, and so on can use it,” he tacks on.
In other words, this is utterly fucking useless.
Fantastic.
Felix tips his head thoughtfully. “But you know what? I doubt they ever tested your type of magic on it. Fae records said etherium was extremely rare. I wonder why it was in his crown. Then again, I guess no one really knows much about his background, huh?”
It’s true. How Amadeus came to rule the Nether has long been forgotten—hence why I was poking around in his chambers, searching for answers.
I nod at the shard in his hand. “Keep that hidden. Maybe we can experiment with it to see if it could still be useful.”
He nods but examines me. “You mean, if it could be useful to help you get us humans out of the Nether.”
“Obviously.”
“You’re really going to try freeing us, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his expression changing to something…
affectionate. It’s a touchy-feely, older-brotherly look, complete with a soft smile and proud, gleaming hazel eyes.
Gross. Any form of camaraderie aside from Lillian’s has returned to haunt me, so I lift my chin.
“I won’t try. I will. But if you ever look at me like that again, I’ll gut you like a fucking fish and leave your rotting innards behind for the Undead to feast on.”
Anyone else in the Nether would balk at my tone, but Felix sighs heavily.
“Seriously? Would it kill you to at least pretend to still have a heart? Your entire personality is like a damned thistle. May the gods have mercy on anyone who ever tries to get close to you.”
Joke’s on him. Only an idiot would ever try to get close to me, as he puts it.
He’s correct. I’m heartless—and I intend to stay this way. The less I let myself feel, the less it will hurt when I complete my mission and finally join the other restless dead.
MAVEN
Present
Fight or flight.
The former is all I have known since my entire life, and the latter has resulted in unbearable punishment.
Yet standing here, watching Silas unconscious and struggling to breathe, and knowing this is the calm before another storm…
Fighting is out of the cards. We need to run. It’s cowardly, but that prophetess was right. Plenty of eyewitnesses escaped after seeing me kill Somnus, so every second that passes is another second that the truth is spreading like wildfire: the telum is in the mortal realm.
The Immortal Quintet will send hired killers.
The Legacy Council will send bounty hunters.
Others will try to end me for the hell of it.
I’m in grave danger.
I wish I could savor it more, but facing any fight head-on would risk Silas. He’s too vulnerable right now. There’s no telling when he’ll wake up—and he will wake up, or I swear on all the fucking gods, I will drag his soul back from the Beyond myself.
Glancing down, I again study the dark House of Arcana emblem that begins a few inches below my jugular notch and ends at the top of my upper abdomen, a straight line down the center of my chest directly over my pale scar. It’s a stark declaration that I’ve been bound to this cutthroat fae.
I like it.
But it still makes no sense. Was a mistake made? Is this a trick the gods are playing on me? I’ve made no secret of the fact that I think they suck ass, so I doubt they would toss a random blessing my way or some shit like that.
“Focus,” I order myself out loud, turning to rummage through my dresser for new combat-friendly clothes that I quickly slip into, along with a new pair of gloves. Spotting my adamantine dagger on the dresser, I sheath it to my hip. Crypt must have collected that, too, before carrying me back here.
Time to get down to business. We have to get out of here ASAP and find somewhere safe to lay low while Silas transitions into a necromancer—which can sometimes take days.
Stepping out into the hallway, I nearly collide with a lean, pale, beautifully sculpted chest. Everett steadies me, his soulful blue gaze roving over me as if he’s looking for any sign of damage. One of his cool hands cradles my face, and he exhales with relief.
“There you are. I had to see that you’re okay.”
My most meticulous match is still streaked with dried blood and dirt from First Placement. He must have just woken up from Pia’s healing, which left him with no visible scars. I suppose I should have figured that my former supermodel match would look like this, but…
Damn. Talk about lickable abs,
I muse distractedly.
Are my abs more or less lickable in your estimation, blood blossom?
Silas’s faint, slurred fae words drift back inside my head, growing faint at the end.
Oh, my gods.
I look wide-eyed up at Everett. His gaze drops to where my hand instinctively goes to cover the center of my newly marked chest, and he tenses.
“Shit—what’s wrong? Are you in pain?”
“Is it her shadow heart again?”
Baelfire’s voice startles me before the dragon shifter is suddenly beside us in the hallway, crowding this small space. He showered off the worst of the gore and dirt left behind from First Placement, but he’s back in his combat clothes again. Obviously, he’s as aware as I am that we’ll have another fight on our hands sooner than later. Changing would be redundant.
“Are you all right, Raincloud?” he presses, brow furrowed.
I hold up a finger to pause their concern and peer inside my room again, expecting Silas to be sitting up in bed with a knowing smirk. But he’s still motionless, propped up on the pillows that are now stained with dried blood and ash. His feverish, labored breathing is the only sound in the room.
Silas?
I try to send to him.
There’s no response.
I’m so perplexed that I actually yelp in surprise when Crypt appears in the room directly in front of me. Unlike Baelfire, he hasn’t redressed from his shower yet, so I’m treated to a delicious display of his nakedness—the light and dark swirling markings covering most of his body, muscles dripping with water droplets, and piercings glinting in the afternoon light streaming in from the window.
The incubus frowns. “What’s got you so jittery, love?”
I hesitate, glancing between the three of them. We really don’t have time at our disposal, but this fluke on my chest pertains to all of us. There’s no point keeping it a secret. Decision made, I strip off my black shirt. Rolling my eyes at Baelfire’s whistle of appreciation, I lift my gray exercise bra so they can get the full picture of what’s going on.
His whistle dies, and Everett visibly stops breathing. Crypt is equally stunned.
“How the hell is this even possible?” Baelfire finally manages, reaching out to gently run a warm finger over my new emblem. He catches my eye. “Does it hurt, baby? Do you feel any different?”
“I don’t know, no, and not really.” I pause. “Aside from hearing him inside my head, that is.”
To my surprise, Crypt has the strongest reaction to that. He swears and turns an impressively murderous glare on the unconscious fae in the room as if he’s about to pick a fight before Silas even wakes up.
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.