by Russo, Jessa
Wrong. So wrong. Move. Go. Run.
My chest rose and fell heavily with each breath, as the focus of every nerve in my body rushed to meet Donovan’s fingers. All at once I felt like I was frozen, and yet, unable to sit still. My body throbbed, begging for more connection to Donovan.
Did he feel it? Did he know what he was doing to me?
What is he doing to you? Run!
He smiled again and licked his lips, then lightly trailed his fingers down my chest, leisurely making his way to trace the curve of my left breast.
No.
I sucked in a breath, not wanting him to touch me anymore, especially not in a way that mimicked private moments I’d had with Mick…and yet…wanting nothing more than his hands and body to surround me, cocoon me, cradle me.
Where moments ago I’d been kissing him, my body reacting to a man I’d thought was Mick, this feeling wasn’t sexual, wasn’t romantic…more like, I’d never been complete before this moment. Never experienced true safety, real contentment.
This was all wrong, and yet…
I couldn’t ignore the way my skin lit up beneath his fingertips. My mind may have been logical enough to know that this went against what I truly wanted, but my body…
As his fingers moved over my skin, I responded to his touch like the desert responds to rain, drinking in every second of connection to Donovan Gregory. I’d die without him.
What? No, that’s not right. Move!
My eyelids fluttered between opened and closed as his fingers played with the top hem of my shirt. I inhaled deeply, trying to force myself to tell him off. But the words wouldn’t come. His woodsy, musky scent filled my nose, teasing my senses. His hair tickled my forehead as he leaned down, bringing his face to mine once more.
My lips parted on an intake of breath.
“Hmm,” he said, and heat rushed through my body as the sound of his voice caressed my ears.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Just as I suspected. Maybe a good shagging is in order, after all. What do you say we have ourselves a quick roll in the hay before your boyfriend realizes I’m gone?”
“Holland!”
Donovan’s repulsive words followed by Mick’s voice roaring through the house, doused me with an ice cold reality check. This wasn’t right, this moment, these impossible feelings…I opened my eyes—hadn’t even known they were closed—and tried to push Donovan off of me.
“We’ll have to delay our shag, then, eh?” He winked as his grin split his face further, appearing almost comical, cartoonish. Maniacal.
“Over my dead body,” I snarled through clenched teeth. I’d finally found my words, and they hadn’t come out nearly as breathless as I felt.
Donovan threw his head back and laughed, the harsh sound no longer velvet to my senses, but grating and strange. It pulled me back to the moment, to the utter wrongness of everything, and my heart sped up as I grasped how abnormal he seemed.
What did he just do to me? Who is he? What is he?
I tried to ignore that last question while he still sat atop my legs.
“‘Over my dead body,’” he chirped, mimicking the higher pitch of my voice. He brought his head back down over mine, a curl to his lip. “Oh, Princess, careful what you wish for.”
He covered my mouth, then brought his face down to my ear.
“Don’t scream.”
Mick
“Holland!” I shouted again as my foot thumped against the second level landing. I propelled myself forward, not able to get to her fast enough.
Cam and Ro barreled in behind me, obviously aware of the dire mistake we’d all made in leaving Holland unprotected.
When I reached the room, the door was open. I sucked in a breath. If he’s done anything to her…
I slammed to a stop just inside the room, my eyes barely able to register what they saw. Nothing.
The room was empty.
“Holland!” I shouted again, running into the bathroom—only to find it as empty as the rest of the room. I spun on my heels and saw Ro taking the small spiral staircase up to the reading nook our moms used to love.
“They’re gone.”
“No!” Cam shouted. “Where the hell is my sister?”
“He took her.” My heart caved in on itself. I couldn’t think straight, but I knew I had to come up with a plan. I knew I had to keep moving. I had to find Holland. I sank down onto the bed, running a hand over my head. What would I do now? Where could they have gone? What was he doing with her? Who was he?
“You can’t just sit there, Mick! Do something!”
I flew off the bed and stepped in front of my sister. “What do you want me to do? I told her I’d protect her! I told her I’d break the curse! I told her I’d save her! And now? Now what will I do? Where is she?”
Ro cowered under my harsh glare, but, lowering her voice, she tried to talk sense into me. “Okay. Calm down. We’ll figure this out, all right? You’re not alone, Mick. We’ll find Holland.”
“Holy crap, man,” Cam said. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
With his words, the weight of letting down not just Holland, but her brother as well, crashed onto my shoulders. I’d failed all of us.
Searching the room for any indication of where Donovan could have taken her, I spotted something painfully familiar tucked into the bedding in the very place I’d last seen Holland sleeping. The very place I’d left her alone. Anger kicked my adrenaline into full force once more as I snatched the black and white digital image from the sheets.
A disturbing memento from Donovan, reminding me of what Holland’s future held if I failed.
“What’s that?” Ro asked as she approached me.
“Nothing.” I folded the print into quarters, then shoved it into my pocket. “It’s nothing. Let’s figure out what we’re going to do.”
“Okay. Let’s think,” Cam said. “Where could they have gone? Did either of you see a car? Or any luggage? Did he have anything with him?”
“No.”
“Me either,” Ro said, staring off into the distance. Then she looked back at us with her eyebrows pulling down over her blue-violet eyes. “Wait a minute, you guys. What kind of person travels in the snow, without luggage or a vehicle?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “But he couldn’t have gone far.” With that spark of hope, I jumped from the bed and grabbed my warmest jacket from the closet. As I pulled it on, I felt the resolve I’d lost momentarily.
“Go get dressed, you guys. Layers. Lots of layers. It’s going to be freezing cold out there, and we’re not coming back until we find her.”
They both nodded and left the room.
I meant what I said. I’d die out there in the snow before I ever returned to my father’s home without her.
Holland
I awoke freezing cold, but not the kind of cold that makes you get out of bed to find a sweatshirt and socks. Not even the kind of cold that forces you to walk all the way to your thermostat through dark, chilly hallways.
No, this cold lodged itself deep into my bones.
I ached. My teeth chattered. I hurt everywhere.
Stretching my arm to search the bed beside me, I wondered where Mick had disappeared to. Was I even still in his bed? What time was it?
My hand connected with dirt. Or, rock was more like it. When I reached further, something tightened against my wrist, scratchy and thick. I opened my eyes, my heart racing as realization settled in.
Darkness and the residuals of a remarkably deep sleep—couldn’t even remember dreaming or moving—blinded me to anything past my initial surroundings, but as I focused, I realized I lay tucked into a blue sleeping bag on the cold, hard ground, my arms each tied separately to metal rings protruding from the rock walls. I sat up quickly as panic replaced confusion, fear rippling through my body. Where am I? My breathing hitched, coming in short gasps. My legs were tied together at the ankles, tucked well into the sleeping bag.
; “She wakes.”
The same words he’d murmured the first time I’d awoken to his unexpected presence, the morning he watched me sleep in the false security of Mick’s bedroom. Donovan watched me again now—though this time he sat near a bonfire, instead of leaning on Mick’s fireplace mantle.
“Where am I?”
“In a cave.” His words were bland.
“Why did you bring me here?” My voice cracked and wavered on each word. The voice of a scared little girl. I cleared my throat, calling forth any ounce of courage I could muster.
“Well, Holland,” he began, slowly enunciating each word. “I brought you here to prevent you from breaking the spell. The whole lot of you are truly dense.”
“Wait…” I didn’t know what to say, but I wanted to keep him talking—that seemed like the best thing to do. I could survey my surroundings as long as Donovan was distracted. And maybe I’d find a way out.
That was the plan anyway.
“Are you saying that you brought me here so you could break the spell?”
“Oh, Holland. Of course you would come to that conclusion—so naïve and so trusting. Even after you’ve been betrayed by those you loved most, you still trust so openly, don’t you?”
Was he referring to Rod and Leslie? How did he—?
“Yes, I know all about you, Holland Briggs. Your pathetic life—the dances, the popularity, the mundane social climbing. Your heartless little world and all its glory. But that all came crashing down on you, didn’t it? That all crashed down when Roderick broke your heart.”
“What do you…how—?”
“How? How do I know all this?”
Donovan paused to laugh, a loud, head-thrown back laugh that reverberated off the walls of the cave, triggering the memory of his hand on my chest. He’d been in the bedroom, touching me, making my body react to him, hungry for his touch. He’d kissed me. I’d kissed him back.
Then he’d laughed and…
Then he’d told me not to scream.
Oh my God.
“How, indeed. It was easy, really. Did you ever wonder why Roderick never even looked your way again? Because I’d love to know what your thoughts are on that. Oh yes, I definitely would.”
With each word, Donovan’s British accent became sharper, his tone filling with anger. Fear trickled through my veins, leaving me icy and covered in goose bumps. I tried to stay calm. This was no time to lose control, risking the change and causing another rage episode. Wait. Could I use the change to escape? Could I let go and let it…take me over?
I imagined going mad, losing myself to the beast and never coming back.
I couldn’t risk it.
I had to focus on this strange person in front of me and figure out what the hell was going on, as well as put together an escape plan.
“Cat got your tongue?” Donovan’s grin spreads, his dark eyes sparkling in the firelight. “Rod didn’t look at you because you no longer existed. In his eyes, there never was a Holland Briggs. He’d been in love with Leslie his entire life. You. Didn’t. Exist.”
I shook my head; it didn’t make sense. Of course I still existed.
“You still don’t get it do you? He didn’t ignore you; he didn’t see you. You weren’t there. Are you so self-centered that you couldn’t even see that he looked right through you?”
I gasped at the realization that his words rang true. Rod hadn’t just ignored me these past few months, he’d acted as if I wasn’t even there. Because somehow, I wasn’t. How could that have happened? How could he not know me? Not see me?
“God, you’re daft. No wonder she cursed you.”
What? I snapped my head up, locking my gaze on his. “What did you just say?”
“No matter. Let’s get back to you, shall we? Poor little Holland Briggs. Popular. Beautiful. Loved. But not by him. Not by Rod. Not when he’d never laid eyes on you.”
I took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the gaping hole that had just reopened in my heart. Tears knocked on the back of my eyes, but I had to push them away. I had to focus.
“Why? Why did he think I didn’t exist?”
Donovan rolled his eyes, a muscle working in his square jaw. “Because to him, you didn’t. It’s that simple. I planted one little seed in his mind, and there it was. The end of Holland Briggs. We knew that with a little push, you’d grow into your destiny in no time.”
We? “My destiny? What do you mean, the curse?”
“The curse?” he mocked. “Yes, stupid girl, the curse. As soon as the curse was awakened, you needed no further pushing. First the fire, then the poisoning. I’m sure you could have done many more marvelous things if you hadn’t been swept off to this Winter Wonderland with your boyfriend. But, no matter. Everything happens for a reason, and look at us now. Just you and me…and beasty makes three.”
I didn’t want to focus on that last part, so I changed the subject, reverting back a bit. I tilted my head. What had he meant when he’d said ‘we’? “You said you planted a seed in Rod’s mind. But what about Leslie? What did you do to her?”
Donovan barked a short laugh. “Just between us girls—” he mimicked me in that high-pitched voice again, leaning forward as if we were girlfriends gossiping around the fire at a camp out, “—I didn’t have to do anything to Leslie. That was all her. She’d likely been jealous of you forever, and replacing you was a dream come true. Honestly, I’m not sure she’s been the best friend to you, Hollandaise.”
I sucked in a breath. “What did you just call me?”
Holland
With a wink, Donovan stood, the blanket he’d had over his shoulders falling to the ground behind him. He loomed over the fire, his muscles taut within his black t-shirt and snug gray slacks. The flames danced in the air, casting a shadow on the wall behind him.
My eyes widened. The shadow wasn’t right, didn’t seem to be his. My gaze shifted out of focus, then back into focus, as my mind tried to make sense of the shadow behind Donovan. I looked from him to the shadow, then back up to meet his gaze as he shook out his dark hair and laughed. The sound echoed through the cave, but the maniacal laughter wasn’t what made my stomach attempt a quick climb up my throat.
Small and slightly hunched, the shadow of a person sitting in a wheelchair formed on the cave wall, right before my eyes. I brought my gaze back to Donovan once more, who still towered over the fire, but his gaze was no longer light with amusement. Now, his intense eyes watched me, a sneer distorting his previously striking features. His teeth glowed bright in the light of the crimson and orange flames.
Breaking eye contact with the now-terrifying man before me, I forced my attention back to the shadow on the wall, expecting and hoping that I’d imagined the entire thing. But the shape of the figure remained unchanged. Even without seeing the actual person, hunched shoulders and a wheelchair forced one man’s face to the forefront of my mind.
“Wh-who are you?” But I already knew the answer.
“Who, who, said the little brown owl. Stop stuttering, you pathetic girl! You disgust me. You’ve never been good enough for him!” A woman’s voice rang through the cave, the source of it…
No. Shadows don’t talk.
“Well? What do you think?” Donovan stepped aside, waving his arms in a flourish at the quickly solidifying shadow on the cavern wall.
“Hollandaise, Hollandaise, Hollandaise…” The woman’s voice repeated my familiar nickname, and as the words echoed through the cave, the female voice morphed and changed, turning into the familiar cadence I’d know anywhere—the scratchy, witty sound of Mr. Greenburg.
The old man in the wheelchair that used to tease me about my shoes being untied or sneak extra desserts to me after my parents had cut me off now sat before me, separated by a fire and only a few yards of space. My heart fell deeper into my chest as all the moments I’d spent with Mr. Greenburg over the years flew through my mind in a memory-infused whirlwind.
My pseudo-Grandpa…had he harmed my family in
any way? My mother? Me?
How had this happened? I’d loved him so much. We all had.
A tear slipped past my eye, and I knew more would follow. Once one was out…
“Why? I don’t understand. Why would you do this? And…how?”
“You never deserved him. You were never good enough for him.”
I didn’t understand what he was saying, this new Mr. Greenburg. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear my thoughts and make sense of his words. I scanned the area for Donovan, but he was nowhere to be found. Had they been working together this whole time? My mind scrambled to make sense of everything, to no avail. Then, as the flames continued to dance, higher and higher they rose, and the shadow morphed and changed once more. I watched as the person in front of me transformed in unison with the shadow, and then Mr. Greenburg was gone.
A woman in her mid-thirties stood in his place, full-figured with flaming red hair as bright as the fire she stood behind. Her eyes glowed a stunning emerald green. Beautiful—if they hadn’t been so full of hatred. She wore a rich green, velvety dress that mirrored the color of her eyes, with a round hoop skirt and a corset that squeezed her waist into a tiny sliver, pushing her breasts to spilling out over the top.
“Enjoying the show, love?” Donovan had returned, firewood in his arms. He set the kindling down, then stepped toward the woman, bending down to place a delicate kiss on her cheek. “Mother. Don’t you look ravishing tonight?”
I curled my lip in disgust. Mother?
Her green eyes flared when he stepped aside. “Look at me, girl. Tell me you were better for him than I was. Tell me you even came close to being worthy of his love.”
“I—I . . .” I was stuttering again. I had no idea what she was talking about, or who he was that she kept referring to. Donovan? Rod? Was she talking about Rod? “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t! You’re as brainless now as you have been every four generations for the past—” she paused, closing her eyes and squeezing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, “—Ugh! I don’t know!”