The Hundred Year Curse

by A. K. Koonce

  He stills beneath me as I linger there for a moment before pulling away. My heart pounds so loudly it’s all that I hear.

  He clears his throat as he stares at me with wide eyes. “Was that… the first time you’ve done that?”

  I sit up and nod quietly, my cheeks flaming a bright red, a turning feeling churns in the hollow of my stomach. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. Why did I do that?

  My stomach begins to twist into a tight knot until he sits up next to me, his hand fisting in my hair as his lips seal against mine. For a second I can’t breathe and then I don’t even care if I can or not—who needs air with a kiss like this?

  His tongue rolls against mine, warm and slow. He leans into me, pushing me into the mattress once more as he meticulously flicks his tongue against mine.

  His hand runs down my side, gripping my hip tightly.

  All the anxiety of the day falls away as he kisses me like I’m all that he thinks about.

  My fingers run up his smooth jacket and my palm rests against his jaw, holding him to me. My thighs clench as his weight shifts against me perfectly.

  Without warning he pulls back, his head leaning against mine as we both struggle to catch our breath.

  “Fuck.” The word comes out slow and quiet. His hooded eyes close as he rests his temple against mine, his raspy voice still circling my mind. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  In heavy silence I lie beneath him, my hands falling down his hard chest, exploring while he’ll let me. Reluctantly his eyes open, his dark lashes fluttering before his warm gaze meets mine again.

  My heartbeat isn’t filling my ears now, but it still hammers recklessly against his chest. I feel it, my heartbeat strumming against his, like a game between our erratic and confused souls.

  I hold his gaze as I seal my lips to his once more, like a beggar desperate for food. I open to him and my tongue searches for his, gliding across his, demanding him.

  He groans as his hips rock against mine, building the swirling feeling low in my stomach. Shaking fingers push his soft shirt up, my fingertips skimming up the lines of his strong chest. My thighs lock around his waist, grinding my center against his hard length. Warmth sears across my flesh as his strong hand slips up my knee, my thigh, I moan as he hesitates around my hip.

  Again, he pulls back from me, his chest heaving against mine as he takes shaking breaths.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbles as he presses a gentle kiss to my lips that tingles through my whole body.

  He pushes back from me, his dilated eyes roaming across every inch my flushed skin. My dress is pushed all the way up my thighs. He stands between my spread legs and I lean up as he presses another quick kiss to my lips.

  “I’m sorry,” he says again like a chant. I realize he doesn’t mean it. The apology is just a cordial statement that holds no meaning in this moment.

  Cohen isn’t sorry at all. And neither am I.

  He takes a step away from me before coming right back and sealing his warm lips to mine for the third time. We both smile, our lips brushing once more, his tongue flicking against mine for only an instant.

  “I’m sorry,” he says in a pained whisper.

  He pushes off from the overstuffed mattress, walking backward from me, a smirk still lighting up his features.

  With the turn of the knob, he drifts out of the room, the door closing softly behind him. I fling myself back on the bed, my inky hair spreading across the tangled gray comforter. My eyes slip closed, my breaths are still quick and uneven.

  I replay his lips against mine. The feel of his large hands. The fluttering of my reckless emotions.

  I’m going to get him in trouble…

  It shouldn’t feel this good, should it?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Threesome

  Wren

  Sitting in the library, I should be working on the assignment I missed yesterday. But I'm not. Instead, I'm contemplating telling Hazel everything about last night. At the thought my hand flutters to touch my lips, the memory tingles across my skin.

  Hazel is sitting in silence, her school books spread across the table, pencil in hand. She chews on the end, leaving bits of her red lipstick against the wood.

  Noticing my stare, she looks up from her work, raising her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “Okay, what's going on? You have been looking at me like this for the last twenty minutes and haven't said a word.”

  The pencil drops from her hand landing with a quiet thud on the table before us. Hazel clasps her hands in front of her giving me her full attention.

  But what do I say?

  After a moment of silence, she rolls her eyes at me, picking up her pencil and bringing it back to her stained lips.

  “I want to find dirt on Lord Nash,” I blurt out.

  I trust Hazel more than anyone in the world and right now I’m terrified of what I just admitted.

  Gently she sets the pencil back down and closes the book in front of her. “Excuse me, you what?”

  Hesitating under her scrutinizing gaze, I stammer but spit out my thoughts, “Well, I, um, I was thinking. Daddy said that one of Nash's guards ratted me out. I think he has something against Cohen, Cason, and Cormac. I want to see if he is hiding something. And if he is my betrothed, I wanna know what I'm getting into…”

  Waiting for her response, I thumb at the smooth pages of the text before me.

  A smile overwhelms her face, her teeth showing as if she has become a predator. “Aha! Oh, Wren. What's gotten into you? These boys?” She winks, “Oh, I like this new you.”

  “So… does that mean you’ll help me?”

  “Hello, yes. Wouldn't miss this for the world! Now if you would excuse me, I'm going to work my charm on that handsome guard over there. Be right back.”

  Hazel stands, pinching at her cheeks to redden them before pulling at her dress to reveal more of her already obvious bust. As she walks past the table she drums her nails against the wood, nodding at me and mouthing, “Watch this”.

  Her steps become something lethal as she approaches the unsuspecting guard with a soft sway in her hips. I stare in awe as she runs her manicure up and down his uniform, circling Lord Turningten’s insignia. The insignia of a blazing phoenix, strong and resilient: how pretentious. The guard blushes at her advances, his stance falling for a second.

  Lord Turningten’s guards have been taking over more and more shifts. Their presence crawls over my skin. I just know they report my every move to him.

  I don't hear the exchange of words but when Hazel gets the information she wants, she leaves him with the stain of her lips against his cheek.

  Turning back to me, she wickedly winks and pulls me up from my chair as she passes. “Come on, it's now or never! He is in a meeting and won't be back to his chamber for an hour and I have to be off to horseback riding lessons soon!”

  Picking up my skirt I jog after her.

  We find his room empty as we were told. Slowly she pushes open the heavy door, peering in before taking a step. His room is large and plain. His bedding is already made, the pillows fluffed as if they've never been slept on.

  My stomach turns and knots up while I feel an overwhelming presence in the room. I think it may just be my nerves.

  “Hhhmmm, I wonder what we will find.” Hazel seems to hiss as she casually strolls through the room. “I bet we find some kind of bondage. He seems like he would be into that kind of stuff. Too much of a control freak.”

  “For my sake, I hope not,” I mutter as I begin opening drawers as quietly as I can.

  Hazel giggles and follows suit, opening, closing and rearranging in her search. But I can still feel it, this gnawing, pulling sensation that floods my senses as I stand near his bed, finding a small metal chest on the floor.

  Hesitantly I pull at the lid, but it doesn't open. The old rusted lock remains latched. I wrap my fingers around the lock as I turn to my cousin, “Hazel, look for a key. I want to open this.”

  As I rel
ease my grip on the lock, it falls apart in my hand. I stare at the metal pieces scraping my palm and discard them in a nearby trash bin. Maybe I'm losing my mind. “Never mind, my mistake… it's open.”

  “Wow, your future husband really is a dull dud,” Hazel whines as she holds up a pair of white under garments. Gross.

  The lid opens with ease as I pull it up revealing black velvet cloth. Without control of my own limbs, I reach into the chest, digging through the material.

  My fingertips brush against something cold and hard. Something old. Each finger takes its place as they wrap around the item. Warmth spreads through my palm creating a fire that runs the length of my arm. My muscles tense and I pull my hand from the chest, revealing a dagger. The fabric falls away from the blade as the light of the room shines off of it.

  “What the heck is that? I knew it! I knew he was a sick freak! Was it under his bed? Oh, Wren, this is bad.” Her words hum passed me, the noise flying by like an annoying insect.

  Running my hand against the blade, blood forms in a thin line after it. The sting of the cut seems far off and distant. The knife, it calls for blood. Practically singing to my soul of sorrow and revenge.

  “Woah, what are you doing?” Hazel rips the weapon away from me, forcing the moment to become lost.

  My eyes grow wide as I mirror the horror lacing Hazel's features. Fisting my hand to conceal the cut, I yank the dagger back from her. Sliding the blade safely in my boot.

  What is wrong with me?

  “I...Um...” I grasp for words but there are none.

  The door swings open and we straighten quickly as I scoot the metal box under the bed with my heel.

  Nash's face brightens red, seeing us both in his chambers.

  “Excuse me? What are you two doing here?”

  Without missing a beat Hazel sways in front of me towards Nash, her shoes clicking against the tile. The rhythm of her walk suggests confidence and she exudes sex with every step.

  “Oh, Nash. May I call you, Nash? I thought I'd talk my goody two shoes of a cousin into a proper congratulations on your betrothal.” She smacks her red lips as she meets up with him at the door and runs her fingers through his hair, leaving clumps of orange strands in every direction.

  Nash's face flames even darker as he reaches up for her hand that stops against his chest. “Ladies, I do not encourage relationships before marriage. And I rather...relish...in the pureness of Princess Wrenley.” His green eyes meet mine over Hazel's shoulder and he frowns.

  “Princess, do not let yourself be corrupted by those who are beneath you and will never have what you have.” With stiff movements, he peels my cousin's hand away, dropping it as if she were a leper.

  “Humph, your loss.” Hazel pouts as she waves to me to follow her out the door. The hurt of his words only flashes in her eyes for a second.

  As I pass Nash, my gaze stays on the polished tile under me until I'm stopped by his skinny hand on my waist. His fingers grip painfully into my dress, pain searing down to the bone. “Next time, Princess, if you want to come to my chambers. Come alone.” His thin, pale lips press roughly against my cheek.

  I force a smile up at him as I walk around his grasp and follow Hazel out the door. Waves of nerves and disgust hit my body, repeatedly fanning through my core. The blade rubs within my boot reminding me of the danger I now carry.

  As the door clicks shut behind us, Hazel giggles. I hiss at her, “Oh my Lord, Hazel Adel Hazlitt! I can't believe you suggested to him that we might want to entertain him… in bed!”

  “Oh, relax. He is too proper for a good ol’ threesome. I knew he would turn us down.” She fans her hands at me as if she's trying to put out the fire she's started.

  “What would you have done if he had said yes?” The exasperation in my voice is apparent as we take steps quickly away from our secret mission.

  “I suppose we would have played along.” She smirks, “Or I would've pretended to faint, and you would have taken me to the healer. Either way, I wouldn't let you do any hokey pokey with that lizard before you have to.”

  I gape at her, unable to even imagine playing alone in that scenario with Nash.

  She reassuringly squeezes my arm before waving and turning to head off for the stables, leaving me alone in the hall, blood still dripping from my palm.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Another Curse

  Wren

  The blade shines like new against the morning light, a dangerous glint clinging up the center of it. The hilt feels heavy in my palm. I’ve held a thousand jewels in my hands, more gold than anyone could ever need. But I’ve never held something that gleamed with both power and beauty.

  The blue jewel at the center of the hilt demands my attention, like a hurricane pooling within it.

  As I stare into it, a peculiar feeling races through my veins and I find myself gripping the dagger tighter. The bandaged cut on my palm stings from the pressure. I stand with intent. My feet shuffle across my bedroom on their own accord and a dark thought begins to claw through my mind. Blood slashes through my thoughts as if it were a memory of my own. A feeling of grief and guilt accompanies it, but the vengeance outweighs the sorrow.

  “Wren, I brought you something.”

  Cohen’s deep voice cuts through the haze in my mind and the dagger falls from my hands and clatters to the floor.

  His eyes darken as he studies the blade at my feet. “Where did you get that?”

  In one hand he holds a slice of apple pie, the sight of it distracts me for only a second before my eyes strain back to the weapon laying between us.

  “I found it in Lord Turningten’s room.”

  His eyes narrow on the blade and he sit’s the dessert down on my bedside table, the plate scraping against the polished wood.

  “You… were in his room?”

  I peek up at him from beneath my lashes and something similar to jealousy stings his features. Guilt washes over me at how I’ve been thinking about him and his brothers. All three of them. It makes me feel dirty. And yet I still want them... All three of them.

  I wonder if he knows Cormac kissed my neck? Did it even mean anything? Maybe I’m just over thinking everything.

  “Cormac kissed my neck,” I blurt, my cheeks staining red the moment I say the words.

  A smirk pulls at his full lips.

  “I know.”

  “He told you?” My brows crease as the guilt begins to dissolve in my stomach.

  He picks up the blade, turning it in his strong hand as he studies it.

  “Cormac’s a bundle of pure testosterone. I was just surprised he hadn’t tried to sleep with you already.”

  I swallow hard, remembering how soft Cohen’s lips felt against mine.

  “And that doesn’t… bother you?”

  He pulls his attention from the dagger. The blue jewel reflects against his eyes.

  “I… I know Cormac would never hurt you. I know it seems weird.” A laugh falls from his lips on a heavy breath. “We’ve heard tales about the princess that will break the curse for nearly a century now. I think it’s natural that we’re all a little… infatuated with you.” His attention falls to my lips. “I’ll, of course, tell him to knock it off if it bothers you. I know you’re a betrothed woman.” He says the last part like it’s painful to think about.

  “No.” The word comes out sharp and fearful. The thought of them treating me different, the thought of never having someone look at me the way Cohen’s looking at me right now...

  A dimple creases his left cheek as he gives me a wide smile.

  “Good.”

  A few feet separate us and I just want to close the space, wrap my arms around him, meld into his warmth.

  My eyes flit down to the dagger he’s fisting in his palm. His knuckles are white as he holds it tightly. The tip of the blade is held at the center of his wide chest, straining against the fabric of his white shirt.

  Hesitantly, I take the blade from him, my fingers brushing a
gainst his as I take it back.

  “What do you think it is?” he asks.

  I shake my head at him.

  “I don’t know. It’s strange. It feels unnatural.”

  He nods fervently. “It feels cursed.”

  I peer up at him, my brows creasing. Cohen would know what a curse feels like. He’s a walking curse himself.

  “Do you think it has something to do with the Ryken curse?”

  “Probably, but I don’t know. Maybe there’s something in our library on it.”

  Our library. It was his before it was mine...

  His shoulder brushes mine as we both stare down on the dagger in my small palm. It’s heavy, a solid object booming with power.

  This is the key. I just know it. The only question is: what do we do now?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Strength and Beauty

  Wren

  The following morning, four of us roam the beautiful library, a crow perches along the window, watching us as we paw through book after book. A cloudy sky hides the sunlight from us, shadows obscure titles along the shelves. There are thousands of books here. Dread sinks deep in my stomach as I think about the odds of us finding anything on this dagger or the Ryken curse.

  Even Cormac is deep in thought. From across the table, he taps a pencil to his temple carelessly. His eyes strain as he studies the pages of a thick book, his heavy boots leaning against the table, crossed at the ankles. Cason and Cohen whisper among themselves, Cason reading passages out loud while Cohen scribbles words frantically across a page of paper. I reread the same line again for the third time, but my mind wanders, drifting away from the important task at hand.

  Like our library would have a book about a magical dagger. Eighty percent of these books are smut stories my mother likes to keep on hand.

  With a tired sigh, I close my eyes, my fingers rubbing at my lids. I rest my temple on the heel of my palm. For only a few moments, sleep pulls me under, the tension falls from my limbs.

  Blood sinks through my thoughts once more. A crawling whisper hisses through my mind with words I can’t make out but they’re scratching at the back of my consciousness.