Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
Baelfire.
His pupils are round as he adjusts to sit on the floor. Thick silver shackles immobilize his wrists and ankles. The collar I put on him is still there, as is the leash. His face is bruised, one eye blackened, nose quickly healing from an obvious break, and his ripped shorts are stained with an alarming amount of blood. More is dried all over his beautiful bare muscles.
He’s also still holding the end of someone’s bitten-off finger in his mouth.
When he spots me, his face lights up just like it always used to. Spitting the finger he just snagged aside, he beams.
My pulse flutters. Gods—there he is.
My sunshine mate is no less charming, all covered in blood. He’s as ridiculously handsome as ever, his eyes sparkling, his smile bright.
But I can sense it right away—the change in his demeanor.
When I first met Baelfire, back when I was trying to reject my matches, he was so upbeat and guileless and…
good compared to the rest of us. In a way, he seemed innocent, or at least as innocent as legacies can be.
Now? It’s subtle, but there’s a new edge to him, and not the kind that comes from his dragon.
Baelfire shuffles across the room to my side. As soon as he’s close enough to me, he leans over to kiss my mouth through the tape.
“You okay, Raincloud? Gods, I was so fucking worried you wouldn’t wake up,” he rasps, kissing my jaw next.
He doesn’t seem to remember there’s someone else’s blood on his face, but I’m so happy he’s present that I’m not about to remind him. I’ve missed his singed cedar scent and those beautiful golden irises.
When Baelfire sees me drinking in the sight of him no longer feral and hissing, he looks sheepish. His broken nose has completely healed, and his bruises are starting to fade.
“My dragon is a godsdamned wimp. When anyone he considers a lesser being hurts us, and he can’t come out to roast them, it’s a huge blow to his pride. Only took a few beatings for me to get him in the back seat. For now,” he adds with a slight grimace.
Beatings, constraints, my fae locked in isolation somewhere…
It’s decided. I’ll relish all the elite legacies’ screams and pleas for mercy as I punish them for harming my quintet.
But for now, I’m ready to get this tape off my face. Leaning toward Baelfire, I lift my chin.
He immediately kisses my cheek, nuzzling my neck with a ragged sigh of relief. More flutters make me flush all over. His obvious excitement to be with me even in a situation like this is just…admittedly adorable.
I reluctantly pull away. Making sure Baelfire sees my purposeful expression, I tilt my face until he focuses on the tape.
“Oh, shit. Right. Hold still for me, baby.”
It’s quite the process, him nipping and pulling gently at the tape over my mouth. When it starts to peel away, my dragon shifter kisses each part of my face that’s been uncovered.
When the tape finally falls away, I smile against his lips. “Good boy.”
I’m not expecting the rough whimper that escapes him at those words, but oh my gods, it’s hotter than I could have imagined.
Baelfire’s warm lips are immediately moving against mine. His tongue drags against the seam of my lips until I open for him, and he growls as our mouths mingle.
He quickly gets more aggressive, tugging lightly on my upper lip before kissing down my neck, nipping it now and then. My head is spinning. When he gets to the mating mark he left on me, he groans.
“Hell yes. Right where it’s always going to fucking be.”
I can’t help the exhilarated gasp that escapes when he roughly bites and then licks the scar to soothe it.
Everett swears under the bag on his head. “I’m missing something I want to see, aren’t I?”
“Quite the little show,” Crypt agrees, grinning.
When Baelfire adjusts to kiss the other side of my neck, I can feel his collar against me.
“Sorry about the collar,” I manage.
He pulls back, raising his brows. “Hang on. You mean, they didn’t put it on me? This was you?”
I nod and apologize again, but he groans and lets his head fall back on his shoulders.
“Damn, that makes me so hard.”
Crypt’s voice is strained. “Speaking of, they didn’t leave any room for viewing pleasure in this fucking sarcophagus. So if you don’t mind…”
I realize he’s grimacing down at the bronze encasing him, too affected by our little make-out session. Everett hasn’t said anything else, but he’s tenting.
Oops. My poor voyeurs, minus one.
Finally being in a room with three of my matches coherent and conscious is amazing, but it makes Silas’s absence painfully obvious. My empty stomach clenches painfully at the thought of what they might be doing to my necromancer.
“Don’t be sorry, Maven.
I’m sorry. So fucking sorry,” Baelfire whispers, leaning his forehead against mine. “I don’t remember everything from that night my dragon took you, but I—fucking gods, I dropped you.”
“I stabbed you.”
“So? I fucking dropped you and?—“
I nip his lower lip to stop him from finishing that guilt-ridden statement before peering into his golden irises. “Who cares? That’s nothing when we almost lost each other.”
His molten gaze grows so uncharacteristically sorrowful and broken that it makes my chest twinge as he shakes his head, swallowing hard.
“Not right now. I can’t talk about losing each other right now. Please. Because if I start to think about what happened six months ago, I—fuck, I can’t,” he rasps, shutting his eyes and shifting to rest the back of his head against the wall. He breathes in and out at a measured pace, trying to calm himself down. “Distract me with something. Anything.
Please.”
I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I was in Paradise. Not that I remember much of it yet.”
He peeks one eye open. “Everett mentioned that.”
“Syntyche is my mother.”
“Yeah. He mentioned that, too.”
Realizing that Baelfire knows what I am and is treating me exactly the same as before is such a relief that I beam at him.
His face lights up again, attention pinned to my mouth. “Holy fuck, I’ve missed that.”
“Missed what?” Everett demands from the bed.
“None of your business, Popsicle Prick.” Baelfire boops my nose with his. “When we get out of this Frosty shithole, I’m going to need a lot more of those from you, my cute little demigoddess.”
I fix him with a firm look even as I try not to smile. “Not cute. I see ghosts and reap souls. I’m the daughter of Death.”
“Sure, and you’re also so.
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.