Bound (The Curse Trilogy Book 2)
Page 11
I follow the trail and laugh when I see the assortment of goodies lined up on our marble countertops. A large, plastic, Halloween cauldron sits on the counter with steam rolling out of it. It must contain some type of dried ice punch inside. Sugar cookies with witches’ hats frosted onto them sit amongst the snacks on the countertop. A fair share of the snacks appear to be from a Halloween guide. ‘Broomsticks’ made of pretzels and string licorice, ‘Witch heads’ made of olives and bugles. I take in the countertop and appreciate all the effort my mom put into making this special.
The room is strangely empty and I glance around for any indication where my parents led our guests. A loud roar of laughter reaches my ears and I head in the direction of the sound with Leif following behind me. I stop in my tracks at the entry to the living room, engrossed in watching the scene play out before me. Leif bumps into my back but doesn’t apologize as we both watch the adults plus Sylvia cackle like maniacs.
The center of the room is empty, as the two sofas that normally sit in an L shape before our large stone fireplace have been pushed to the sides, along with our coffee table. A small folding table has been set up near the far wall and is laden with a small assortment of drinks, disposable cups, and a few other items I can’t quite make out.
My grandma is blindfolded and floating about three feet in the air. In her left hand, she’s holding a paper cutout that appears to be a brown stick. In between laughter, her audience is shouting “Left”, “No your other left”, “Forward”.
After a couple more seconds of observing, I realize they’re playing a variation of pin the tail on the donkey, only this version is pin the broom under the witch. A couple feet ahead of my grandma is a poster hung high on the wall with several other “broom” cutouts attached at rather precarious angles. No one has even come close to the blank spot underneath the printed witch.
I move forward and take up the spot between Sylvia and Marc. “How is she floating?” I ask quietly, to no one in particular.
Marc smiles down at me as Sylvia yells, “further left!”
He winces at the volume of her voice near his ear, before answering my question. “It’s a flotation potion. Good for swimming, or hovering a few feet above the ground.” He ends the statement with a laugh. “One sip wears off in about five minutes or so.”
As I watch my grandma move her arms through the air like she’s swimming, I can see her slowly begin drifting downwards, towards the ground.
“You didn’t even make it to the board, Molly.” My dad goads as my grandma's feet slowly touch back down on the floor of the living room.
She huffs, yanking the blindfold upwards off her head. “I see you haven’t play yet, Arthur. Let’s see you do better,” my grandma quips back.
My father quickly shuts his mouth and his face turns a bit pale, but my grandma doesn’t drop it. She walks up to him and hands over the blindfold with a smug look. My dad accepts the scrap of fabric and asks, “What do I get if I win?”
Tapping two fingers against her chin, my grandma looks contemplative. She takes a minute before she gives a small dip of her head. “If you win, Arthur, I will buy everyone here ice cream.” A small cheer breaks out in response to her words. “BUT,” my grandma continues loudly to be heard over the ruckus. “If you lose, you have to buy everyone here ice cream.”
My dad surveys the room as if calculating the potential cost of losing, in ice cream dollars. After his eyes scan the area, he steps forward extending his hand for my grandmother to shake, “Deal.”
Once the ice cream agreement has been bartered, Tricia pours a couple of drops from a vial of shimmery blue liquid into a plastic shot glass and hands it to my father. He takes the shot glass and quickly downs the liquid, making a slight grimace as the liquid leaves the plastic and enters his mouth. He hands the shot glass back to Tricia, slipping the blindfold down over his eyes at almost the same second his feet start to lift off the ground.
I watch in fascination as he floats up to about eight inches off the floor, then fourteen inches, then about two feet. He drifts higher up into the air until he finally stops around the three-foot mark—around the height my grandma had been--when I walked in.
Sylvia’s dad rushes forward and grabs my dad's shin, using the legs as leverage to spin my dad in two quick circles. When he finishes spinning, my dad groans lightly. He is predisposed to motion sickness and it surprises me he’s willing to play the game. It occurs to me he felt he couldn’t back down from my grandma’s challenge.
He begins making breaststroke type movements with his arms. The motion looks ridiculous and causes me to giggle. I observe as the room breaks out into a cacophony of noises once more. Sylvia’s dad is bellowing out directions to help my dad, while my grandma yells out random words in hopes that he’ll be as unsuccessful as she was.
Despite the ridiculousness of his movements, the mid-air breaststroke seems to be quite effective. My dad reaches the wall in less than two minutes. He makes an oomph noise as he slams against the drywall, not realizing how close he was. This causes majority of the adults to start laughing again.
I let out my own giggle, but continue to watch my dad as he slowly begins feeling around the wall for the poster. His fingertips eventually hit the edge. Wondering about his strategy, I watch as he runs his hand up to find the top. Once he’s successful, he adds his second hand running both along the edge to find the corners.
The room begins to quiet down after my dad doesn’t immediately slap the broom against the board. The nine of us look on in fascination as my dad uses one hand to run across the top, stopping about halfway. He uses the other hand to run about three quarters down the side. He slides his top hand down and his side hand across until they meet on the poster board… in the exact spot of the missing broom.
My dad attaches his cut out against the poster right before he starts his descent downwards. When his feet touch the floor, he tears off his blindfold to check out his placement. He throws a fist up into the air and yells, “Yes!”
After his victory yell, my mom runs up and places a kiss against his cheek. “My hero,” she exclaims dramatically. He slings his arm around my mom before she can step, and smacks a loud kiss against her mouth. When they separate, she lets out a girlish giggle.
“Your child is present,” I call out dramatically, over the parental display of PDA.
They both ignore me. Keeping his arm around my mom, my dad twirls both of them around to face my grandma. “You owe us some ice cream!”
My grandma fakes a groan of agony, but a wide grin is spreading across her face. Her gaze is locked on my mom’s happy smile as she concedes defeat, “Okay, okay. Ice cream on me.”
No one has made an issue out of my grandma and I spending time together, but this is the first time that she’s been over to my parents’ house and we’ve all spent time as a family. Neither my grandma or mom has said anything about the rift between them, but today it seems like that gaping hole has healed. At least a tiny bit.
15
The Return
Mirabella
The next day, I naturally wake up early to the sun shining into my room through my balcony doors, bringing a bright and chipper ambience to my entire room. I decide to spend some time in my studio. With all of the last-minute cramming for my witches exams, I feel like I’ve neglected my art.
At least it was all worth it, because I passed! I do a little jig at the thought, then proceed to get dressed in a pair of paint splattered overalls with a white T-shirt underneath. As soon as I pass through the doorway, my phone pings with a text. Digging into the pouch in front of my belly, I see Sylvia’s name flash across the screen.
Clicking to open up her message, I scan her words then my grip on phone loosens in shock. Thankfully my brain snaps into action and my hands reach down to snatch up my phone before it hits the ground. I read the words again: I’m not 100% certain, but I’m pretty confident I saw Vlad running down the Main Road and turning off onto a dirt path.
He’s back!
The feeling of elation quickly turns to disappointment. He’s back… and he didn’t come over or call… or even message me?
I stand in the doorway to my studio, one foot inside and one foot firmly in the hall as I debate whether I should go to his house. Does he not want to see me? Why didn’t he contact me?
Pushing away my doubts, I run into my room and grab a small bag. I stand in my doorway waffling about if I should change out of my painting clothes. Vlad has seen me in these and won’t care, I decide before hustling down the stairs and out to the driveway.
Standing outside my car, nerves strike again. I inhale a deep, calming breath, and shake my hands in front of me to loosen up my muscles.
Vlad is back. Vlad is okay.
These are both good things. On my exhale, I pull on the handle to my Prius and jump inside.
The drive to Vlad’s house is normally twelve minutes for me, even with my normally slow and cautious driving. Today, that twelve minutes is the equivalent of an eternity; I talk myself down from turning around at least four times. Vlad will want to see me.
I’m pretty sure.
He probably just lost his phone, or has been busy with his parents. I work to convince myself that he’ll want to see me, all the way up to the point of parking in front of his house.
Turning the key to shut off my Prius, I take another moment to calm myself. It’s now or never. As I walk up the front sidewalk, I notice there aren’t any cars in the driveway. Odd. Maybe Vlad’s parents aren’t home yet. Or maybe they all went somewhere together. My thoughts immediately jump to the idea that Vlad is hurt, then I remember Sylvia said he was running. Injured and sane people don’t jog for fun.
Raising my hand, I make a fist and knock against the door with three quick raps. I pause, waiting to see if I hear anyone on the other side. No one comes to answer the door. I attempt another time, then take a step back to look around.
The whole neighborhood looks a little empty, like everyone is out and about living their lives. I lift my foot to step back off the porch and on to the sidewalk, resigned to texting Vlad or trying to stop by again later. The second my foot hits the pavement, I hear a loud cough from somewhere at the back of the house.
Curious, I round the side of the Mort’s home, intent on knocking on the back door. And maybe peeking into a window or two. The woods bordering their backyard come closer into view with each step, but nothing appears to be moving in the tree line. I turn the corner and walk into the Mort’s backyard. A loud gasp leaves my lips the second my eyes land on a lightly tanned, muscular form bent in half, panting.
“Vlad?” I half-whisper the question, worried if I talk too loudly, he might disappear. Like a vivid dream that was never there to begin with.
Vlad straightens. His torso is shirtless and gleaming with sweat, his muscles rippling as he stands to his full height. He turns to face me, his amber eyes meeting mine as a strand of black hair slips forward to the front of his face.
We stand there in a wordless staring contest and everything else fades from view. I couldn’t tell you who moved first, but within seconds I’m wound around Vlad like a monkey hanging onto a tree. His hands grip the back of my thighs while my legs wrap around his hips. My arms around his neck barely support any of my weight as he holds me up.
“Where have you been?” I ask, unwinding an arm from his neck to stroke a hand down his cheek.
He doesn’t answer, just keep his eyes locked onto mine. Vlad slowly moves his face closer and his eyes flit to my lips. It’s the only warning I get before his mouth latches onto mine. Vlad’s tongue runs across the seam of my lips. The motion has my lips falling open to his and he immediately takes the opportunity to plunge his tongue into my mouth.
Vlad devours me with his tongue, teeth, and lips. Ravaging me with his kisses and pulling me closer with each swipe of his tongue across my mouth. I let out a deep moan and wiggle to get closer. I don’t feel Vlad’s steps, but suddenly my back is slammed against the side of the Mort’s house.
The movement knocks the air out of me. I gasp from the slight pain and the heat of the house seeping into my skin through my clothes. Pulling my head back, I try to escape from Vlad’s kisses, but he’s like a man possessed and chases after my lips with his.
His kisses are more… aggressive than I remember. Frantic almost.
I try to turn my head to the side, wanting to escape his urgent kisses and speak. Before my head can turn to the side fully, he slides one hand from beneath my thighs to cup my cheek. He uses the movement as a caress and a way to control my skull, ensuring I can’t move my face away, as I had intended.
Sealing my lips tightly, I wait for Vlad to stop trying to kiss me. It seems to take him a second to realize that I’m not responding. I can tell the instant that he does. Vlad shifts from open mouthed to running his tongue along my lips, attempting to find a weakness and prod through to open my mouth.
Becoming impatient with his behavior, I open my mouth and sink my lips into his lower lip. I planned for the bite to be a warning, but I must have used more strength than I intended. The coppery tang of blood seeps into my mouth as I release my teeth from him.
Vlad lets out a slight grunt and the hand holding me up releases my weight. My body slides down his as gravity takes over and carries me to the ground. I land heavily, stumbling a bit and placing my hands against Vlad’s chest. The movement sends a whiff of a clean lemon scent towards me. I wrinkle my nose, at the smell, wondering why Vlad smells so strange.
Before I have a chance to think on it further, Vlad growls out, “What the hell, Mira Love?” His face is furious, his tone angry and aggressive. He’s holding a hand against his bleeding lip and glaring at me.
I put my hands up in a gesture I hope will help calm Vlad down. I’ve never seen him with this expression, and it’s frightening. “I just wanted to slow down,” I say, keeping my voice low and steady. Vlad takes a step back, shaking his head. I use the extra space to sidestep him and move my back away from the house, freeing myself from the confinement he had created with his body and the wall against my back. “I need to know what happened; where you’ve been. I was so worried about you.” I state, calmly.
“It doesn’t seem like you were very worried. Doesn’t seem like you missed me at all,” He mutters, pointing to his lip. His expression hasn’t changed at all. He’s seething.
“I’m sorry,” I reply. “I didn’t mean to bite that hard.”
Vlad scoffs, “Sure.” He steps forward menacingly. “It was just an accident,” he says in a mocking tone.
His next step forward places him right in front of me. “Vlad…” I begin. But before I can finish my sentence, he shoves forward with both hands, hitting me square in each shoulder. Vlad is huge, but the strength in his push is unbelievable. I fly across the yard and smack into a tree. My head bounces off and I crumple to the ground.
I’ve been bullied since middle school, but I’ve never been afraid their actions would kill me. Now, however, I’m afraid that Vlad might.
Heaving my body off the ground, I pause on my hands and knees. My body is screaming in agony. It feels as if Vlad broke a rib when he threw me across the yard and into the woods. Each breath is sharp and painful, offering no reprieve from the pain or the breathless feeling flooding my body. I’m starting to get lightheaded, but a glance across the yard shows me Vlad has started to head my way.
Crying out with pain, I try to make it to my feet. I need to escape before he reaches me.
16
The Savior
Vlad
I wake up on cold, damp ground. Standing, I stretch out all four of my legs and shake out my fur. Trying to think past a pulsing headache. As if my brain is pounding against my skull blocking out everything except for a single command. All I can think is “run”.
Compelled by something I don’t understand, I take off running. Right as my hind legs push off the ground, I raise my snout to the air and let out a long howl. Three howls echo in the air around immediately after, and the sound of twelve paws pounding down on the forest floor behind me fills my ears.
I don’t register the scenery as it blurs past me. The only thing that catches my eye is the blurs of brown and gold, the colors of my pack keeping pace in the trees nearby. My instincts take over as thoughts like, “Danger”, “Trouble”, and “Run” flit across my mind with increasing intensity. The dirt is pulled up by my claws as I tear across the muddy ground, hoping I’m going to make it in time to whatever my instincts are urging me towards.
It feels like days pass before I finally come to the edge of the woods, a structure visible through the leaf-lined branches hanging down. Slowing my pace, I crouch. My legs are shaky from the brutal pace I was keeping. My wolf mind cannot accurately tell time and I have no estimate for how long it took to arrive.
As I look ahead, the pulsing in my brain which had quieted, intensifies. I hear three sets of paws closing in behind me. Knowing my pack will be here soon to back me up, I stalk forward slowly to assess the situation.
A few yards away, a shirtless man stands behind the structure I spotted from the trees. Only the side of his face is visible. The features look familiar, but I ignore the thought, watching as he begins walking towards the edge of the woods. My eyes follow his intended path and land on a small form on the ground, attempting to stand.
The urges I’ve been experiencing; warning me of danger, telling me to run, pulse through me with severity. Nothing else registers as I step back behind the trees to bound towards the prone figure. As I near, I realize it’s a female human. A small, female human.