Cursed: Legend of the Grimoire, Book One

by Leah Ross

  He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “I dinna care, Laria. Ye’re all I need.”

  Tears blurred her vision again as she shook her head emphatically. “I can’t, Declan. At least this way we can be near each other and not have to fear Guinn’s wrath.”

  “I dinna fear Guinn,” he said confidently, “Ye’re what I want.”

  “You have me now,” she whispered.

  She knelt on the bed, straddled his body, tilted his mouth up to meet hers, and kissed him. He inhaled sharply as their lips met and her whole body tingled with the current of desire flowing between them. Her tongue tentatively sought the soft warmth of his mouth. He sat up, tangling his fingers in the mass of curls at the nape of her neck, and slid his tongue against hers again and again. Bracing herself for the harsh intensity she was so used to, Laria marveled at Declan’s tenderness. Rather than claiming and branding her with aggressive passion that demanded everything and gave little, Declan fed her fire with his own, making her burn slowly and deliciously instead of consuming her in a superheated flash.

  “I’ve dreamed of kissing you since the moment we met. I want more,” she urged huskily in his ear as she nibbled his earlobe.

  A low groan rumbled in the back of his throat. “If ye have any doubt at all ‘bout this, I suggest we stop now, or else kill it swiftly. If we continue down this path, I willna be able tae stop, an’ I absolutely willna regret it.”

  She claimed his mouth once more, her fingers working quickly over the fastenings of his shirt. “Consider it dead and buried.” With a wicked smile, she yanked the shirt from his body. Her heart pounded at the sight of his mouth-watering bare chest, and she licked her lips in anticipation as her fingers traced the contours of his muscles.

  Shuddering at the fire she trailed across his skin with her touch, he scooped up one of her hands and pressed a long kiss against her palm. “Tonight, my Laria, ye belong to me.”

  She smiled and nodded, giving herself up to him completely. He pulled her mouth to his, gently scoring his fingernails across her scalp, making her groan deep in her throat and goose flesh erupt all over her body. Her hands wandered over his broad shoulders and back, then lower, toying with the waistband of his breeches. Tugging open the top of her dress, he caressed the velvety swell of her breast with his knuckles. She gasped and arched into his touch, her nipples straining against the fabric of her bodice.

  Emboldened by her response, he reached down to the hem of her dress and smiled at her with mischief in his eyes. “I’m afraid ye’re wearin’ far too much clothin’, lass. I must insist ye be rid o’ it.” She bit her lip on a grin and held his gaze as he carefully stripped off everything she was wearing.

  He sat back on his heels and took several ragged breaths. “Gods, Laria. Ye’re so exquisite. I want to taste every millimeter o’ yer beauty.”

  She sat up and brought his hand to her breast. “As you said, Declan my love, I belong to you. Do with me what you will.”

  “Heaven help my wretched, damned soul,” he swore as he savored the feel of her silken skin against his calloused palm. “I want to love ye, Laria, wi’ everythin’ I am. I want to share this one blissful night wi’ ye, so I can keep it in my heart always.”

  “Yes, Declan, love me.” Untying his breeches, she pushed them down over his hips, biting her lip as his thick erection strained for her attention. He hissed in a shallow breath as she stroked his full length from base to maddeningly sensitive tip.

  Kicking his breeches aside and swiftly removing the rest of his clothing, he gathered her in his arms and laid her back on the bed. His fiery emerald gaze meeting her fathomless sapphire one, he caressed her face reverently. “Forever, me perfect beauty. I will love ye forever.”

  He laid a path of kisses down the length of her throat and along her collar bone to her breast. Flicking the tip of his tongue across her hard nipple, he smiled as she gasped and bucked against him. He palmed and teased one luscious breast as he captured the other’s nipple firmly in his mouth, suckling gently. Pressing his solid body against her deliciously wicked curves, his free hand wandered leisurely up the inside of her thigh and played with her slick folds.

  She shuddered and cried out. “Gods, Declan! Please!”

  He licked her swollen nipple again. “Please what, love?”

  “Please, please, I want you inside me now!” She thrust her hips against his hand, seeking release.

  He plunged his finger inside her, biting his lip against the rise of his desire at the feel of her exquisitely soft heat and her pelvic muscles contracting around him. As she continued to thrust against him, he flicked his tongue against her clit. A gasping scream escaped her lips, and he licked her long and slow, driving her closer and closer to the edge, until her cries devolved into panting incoherent moans.

  She was agonizingly close to climax, and Declan wouldn’t last much longer either, but he wanted to prolong their pleasure as much as possible. Flicking her clit one last time with his tongue, he drove his finger inside her again and raised himself up to suck on her earlobe. Stroking her gently with his finger, he whispered in her ear, his voice raspy with longing, “Is this what ye want, my angel?”

  She groaned. “Yes.” Then she shook her head emphatically. “No!”

  He slid his finger out and rubbed it against her clit. “Better, my love?”

  “No, no, no… Damn it, Declan, stop torturing me!” she growled at him.

  He smiled and positioned himself at her entrance. Pressing against her, he teased her with the hard tip of his cock. “Perhaps this is more what ye had in mind?”

  She arched up to take him, but he backed away. “Yes, Declan, yes! Please!”

  He pressed against her again and held still as he bent to her ear once more. “Tell me, gorgeous one. Tell me what ye want. I am yers to command.”

  She clasped his face between her hands and stared deep into his eyes, passion burning intensely in her desire-darkened gaze. “I want to feel you fill me. I want to wrap myself around you and know what it finally feels like to be complete. I want to share this perfect moment with you, Declan.”

  He blinked quickly against the sudden tears misting his vision. “As ye wish, my Laria.”

  Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he slid slowly into her body. He held still for several moments, just enjoying the sensation of her around him. She marveled at how perfectly he fit her and she drew a shaky breath, grasping his shoulders desperately and closing her eyes as he lowered his forehead to hers. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, as she silently cursed the cruel hand of Fate. A hot trail burned down the side of her face as a tear escaped from beneath her clenched eyelid.

  “Dinna cry, love,” he said, his voice hoarse with his own suppressed emotion as he caressed the tear from her cheek. “Let’s jus’ enjoy the now.”

  Choking back the wrenching sob trying to claw its way up her throat, she smiled at him and nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her esophagus. They rocked together, thrusting in rhythmic synchronicity, hurtling toward the precipice of bliss. An agonized roar tore from Declan’s soul as he shuddered with his release. Hers followed a moment later with a heart-wrenching sob that she could no longer contain. Wrapping their arms around each other, they clung to their perfect moment without remorse.

  “I love ye, Laria,” he whispered.

  “I love you, Declan.” She buried her face in his strong shoulder and sobbed.

  ~*~

  The next day, true to her word, Laria walked down the aisle to marry Guinn. She was radiant in a shimmering pearlescent gown that trailed her slow steps. Her hair was piled up in ringlets atop her head and decorated with tiny crystals. She carried a single perfect flower that was an exact replica of the one Declan had bought for her when he’d shown her around Terracova the first time, wrapped with a long silk ribbon. She walked confidently and determinedly, but her smile lacked much of its usual warmth. Keeping her eyes trained on Guinn, she tried hard to ignore Declan standing just o
n the other side of William and looking entirely too handsome in his perfectly tailored suit.

  Should be yours. Declan kept his gaze only on Laria as she approached the altar. He didn’t trust himself to look at Guinn, lest the entire audience see the envy and jealousy in his glare. He stood tall and steady, acting every bit the proud groomsman he was supposed to be. But his gut churned with his suppressed misery and longing, and the darkness in his soul writhed, feeding on his pain. He tamped it down hard, stuffing it back into its cage before it could cause any trouble. It’s killing you, I know it is. I can help you solve this problem. He sucked in a deep breath, summoning all of his reinforcements. Shut the hell up an’ stay where I put ye. Ye dinna control me. They all turned toward the altar as Laria joined them, and Declan returned Guinn’s exuberant grin with a smile just as cold as his heart felt.

  The ceremony was solemn and everything was perfect. Declan even managed to stay silent when the pastor asked the assembly if there were any objections, even though Laria’s gaze flicked to his face at that moment, as if she expected him to object. COME ON, COWARD! the voice in his head screamed at him. GROW SOME BALLS AND SPEAK UP! I FUCKED THIS WOMAN LAST NIGHT AND SHE’S MINE! SAY IT! He closed his eyes for a moment, clenched his teeth hard enough that he thought they might shatter, and stubbornly ignored the vulgarity banging around in his head, letting the moment pass as he knew he should.

  William surreptitiously eyed Declan and Laria from his position at Guinn’s side. He thanked whichever deity would listen that Guinn seemed completely oblivious to the smothering tension connecting Laria and Declan like an iron chain. Something was desperately being ignored, and it was infinitely more important than anything else going on. Performing his duties without missing a beat, he hid his alarm behind his usual roguish façade and resolved to pull Laria aside at the earliest opportunity.

  At the reception, William wrapped Laria in a huge hug as she and Guinn mingled among their guests. “We need to talk,” he whispered in her ear, “now.”

  “I’m a little busy, Will,” she hissed back.

  “You’re not running away from this.” He squeezed her harder than he intended, then stepped back and took her hand.

  Guinn’s voice stopped William in his tracks. “Stealing my bride, Hannigan? That’s low even for you.”

  William’s heart stuttered for an agonizingly long moment. He turned around, hoping he looked as nonchalant as he attempted to sound. “I only wanted to show her the gift I brought. You know I had to bring the largest gift, so I had to leave it outside.”

  Guinn’s scowl broke into a wide grin as he clapped William on the shoulder. “Don’t be so serious, mate! This is a party.”

  William forced a nervous laugh. “You got me, McCabe.”

  “Just don’t keep her too long,” Guinn said, turning to greet another guest.

  “We’ll be right back, I promise.” William pulled Laria quickly outside.

  She crossed her arms and glared at him. “So where’s this magnificent gift?”

  He waved absently in the direction of the parked carriages. “Over there. But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

  She blinked, taken aback. “There actually is a gift? You weren’t just bluffing? Bloody hell, you really do have a plan for everything!”

  He rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly. Then he took her face between his hands and brought her gaze to his. “Laria, focus please. Guinn won’t let you be gone for long, and we can’t risk him walking into this particular conversation. What the hell is going on?”

  “Guinn and I got married, idiot. You were right there. Getting senile in your old age, Hannigan?”

  His green eyes darkened and flashed angrily at her as he grabbed her arm. “Don’t fuck with me, Laria. I can tell that something’s not right. Either you give me a straight answer, or I’ll have Guinn do the investigating.”

  Suddenly William’s jaw exploded in a flash of pain and he dropped to the ground. “Ye’ll do naught o’ the sort, Hannigan. Hands off the lady, mate.” Declan stood menacingly over William’s prone form, shielding Laria with his body.

  “Don’t be an ass, Maclairish,” William said, picking himself up and cuffing the blood from the corner of his mouth. “I’m only trying to help.”

  “That’s no’ what it looked like to me. From my perspective, it looked like ye were hurtin’ and threatenin’ Laria.”

  William glared at Declan. “Fine. Keep your sordid little secret. I have a pretty good idea of what’s happening anyway. But I don’t think the two of you realize just how precarious your situation is.”

  “That’s no’ yer concern.”

  “Like hell it’s not! All of you are my friends, and if I can do something to keep this from tearing the three of you apart, then I’m sure as hell going to do it! I don’t want to know the details, truly, but I urge you to consider the consequences.”

  Laria stepped forward. “Thank you for your concern, Will. I, for one, appreciate it.” She glanced up at Declan’s still furious face. “But this is far more complicated than you could possibly understand. Please let us figure it out.”

  William glanced from her to Declan with hurt in his eyes. Then he nodded curtly. “Just don’t say I didn’t try to talk some sense into you.” He brushed himself off. “Congratulations, Laria. I hope you know what you’re doing. Tell Guinn I’ll see him next time you’re in port. Suddenly, I’m not in the mood to celebrate.” He turned and left.

  ~*~

  Declan kept mostly to himself, waving off the flirtatious advances of the young women at the celebration, unwisely trying to drown his sorrow in alcohol. It wasn’t working. He felt like a fool, like he was dragging down the mood with his melancholy; he should have followed William’s lead and left already. He watched Laria try to enjoy the party, but her excitement was subdued. Finally, Declan decided he’d tortured himself enough—any more ‘celebrating’ and he’d get downright suicidal—so he got up to leave.

  A soft touch on his sleeve stopped him. “I won’t let you go…” The note of sorrow in her voice echoed the pain in his heart. “…until you dance with me.”

  He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut with a frown. “I dinna trust myself to be close to ye, Laria.”

  “You’re too much a gentleman to let anything get out of hand, Declan. We both know that.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him out on the floor just as the musicians began a slow waltz.

  Raising his eyes to the heavens in a silent plea for strength, he wrapped his arm around her waist and whirled her around the floor. “Laria, look at me.”

  She looked directly into his deep green eyes, her gaze never breaking his. As they floated across the floor, they saw nothing but each other. A radiant smile lit her beautiful face and seemed to draw the attention of everyone in the room.

  Guinn noticed the hush fall over the noisy room and turned from his conversation to look at the dance floor. He smiled, noticing how beautifully Laria and Declan danced together. She looked so blissfully happy. I haven’t seen that look on her face in— The shadow of a frown crossed his face and he strode quickly across the floor.

  “May I cut in?”

  Laria blinked and her smile faded back to the flat, polite one she’d been wearing all day. “Of course, Guinn. You are my husband.”

  He took her hand, brought her knuckles to his lips, and wrapped his arms around Laria possessively, shooting a look at Declan that very much resembled a predator guarding a fresh kill. Then he grinned widely. “No hard feelings, Declan. Thanks for keeping her entertained.”

  Declan stepped back graciously and swept them a deep bow. “My deepest congratulations to ye both. I’ll take my leave now.” Before either of them could say anything, Declan turned on his heel and left the room, his head held high.

  Guinn watched Declan’s retreating back with suspicion through slightly narrowed eyes. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but he was damn certain he wasn’t going to allow it to continue.


  ~*~

  Instead of returning to his room at the inn, Declan headed for his cabin aboard the Grimoire. Yanking a bottle of rum from the cupboard above his desk, he took a swig, then eyed the bottle with disgust and put it away. He moved to the wash basin, scrubbed his face with cold water, and stared critically at his reflection in the mirror. He looked terrible, and a familiar glint hardened his eyes. With a frustrated roar, he swiped the basin off the small counter, spilling the water over the plushly-carpeted floor. He slammed his palms against the counter and sucked air deep into his lungs in an effort to calm his rage.

  Glaring directly into the mirror past his own reflection, he rumbled aloud at the presence within him. “What the fuck do ye want from me?” Malicious laughter was his only answer.

  Was all of this worth destroying his career, his friendships, his very life? Gazing at himself in the mirror this time, he attempted to discover that truth. The answer stared back at him. Yes, he would destroy all that he had for love of Laria. She was worth everything. Rather than finding solace in that truth, though, he groaned in despair. Even if he was prepared to destroy himself, he just couldn’t condemn her to the same fate.

  Pounding the wall with his fists, he leaned into the mirror, speaking once more to the parasitic entity. “I willna allow ye to destroy her. I dinna ken why ye find her so interestin’, but I will protect her from ye. I will kill meself before I allow ye to hurt her, and then ye canna use me anymore.”

  You wouldn’t dare! You won’t risk unleashing me upon some innocent victim—her, perhaps.

  Declan narrowed his eyes. “I will find a way to destroy ye, evil fucker. Mark my words!”

  Laughter reverberated in his ears. After sixteen years, that threat rings quite hollow, my friend.

  He growled and threw himself down on the bed. “Leave me alone, Ashur.”

  Not on your life, pathetic Annali, the voice taunted. Or on your death, for that matter.