Shadow Cursed (Shadow Falls Series Book 2)

by Lizzy Prince

  I’m not sure how long she’s out. It could have been hours or maybe just a few minutes that I sit quietly and study her face. The long sweep of her dark eyelashes that rest on the top of her cheeks in a delicate fan. The feminine arch of her dark brows that are so expressive, the full lips that beg for drugging kisses, and all that glorious reddish-brown hair that she keeps tucked away in her braids. It’s halfway fallen out now, and I’m tempted to pull out the pins and free it from its confines, but I don’t want to disturb her.

  When her eyes finally blink open, I sit up, but no words come out. Bridget looks a bit confused as her eyes dance across my face then focus beyond me as if she’s trying to figure out where she is. Abruptly, she sits up and then sways, the rapid movement obviously making her dizzy. I dash to her side, kneeling next to the couch, and grasp her uninjured arm to help steady her. With my other hand, I reach out and grab the water, pressing it into her hand.

  “Here, take a drink.” I expect an argument, but Bridget drinks the entire glass, her hand shaking as she moves to set it back down on the table. I take it from her, and she eases back onto the couch.

  “How do you feel?” She looks a little lost, still out of it and dazed.

  She swallows and looks around the room again. “Where am I?” Her voice is no more than a whisper. One of her braids has completely untangled from where she had it pinned, and the long plait hangs down over her chest as if to emphasize how disheveled she is.

  I lean in a little closer, wanting to gather her in my arms to hold her and just barely managing to stop myself. “You’re at my house. You passed out when we were at Alarik’s, and I wanted to get you somewhere safe.”

  Her face flickers into a frown as if she doesn’t agree with that word. Safe. And she tries to pull her arm from my hand. “Can you take me home?” Her voice is quiet, as though she’s afraid she’ll wake someone who’s sleeping.

  “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

  Bridget lifts her head and stares at me, as if trying to read my face, my intentions. I see a faint tremble in her chin as though she’s about to start crying, and it guts me. It completely rips my heart apart.

  “Why do you care?” The question comes out as barely a whisper.

  I don’t understand any of this. Her question, her barely-controlled emotions. There is pain behind her gaze, and I don’t know why.

  “What did I do Bridget? Why do you dislike me so much? I know you don’t have a problem with me physically. What have I done to make you so angry at me?” I search her face as I unload all the questions that have plagued me for months. I see exactly when her defenses slide into place, and her face becomes a cold mask.

  She looks like she’s deciding if she should tell me to piss off or unleash on me.

  “How drunk were you that night?” Bridget looks hurt as she asks this question, but I don’t know what she’s talking about. It drives me nuts that I always feel half in the dark when it comes to her.

  “What night?”

  Bridget starts shaking her head and tries to stand up. “I don’t want to do this, Silas.” Her voice is angry as she starts to move away from the couch. But I’m up on my feet and wrapping my hands around her shoulders, trying to get her to stop and look at me before she’s taken a step. Her head is down, and she shoves my hands away only to step back and sit down on the couch again. She starts pulling the pins out of her hair, yanking out the ties of her braids and using her fingers to shake out all that beautiful hair. She’s still not looking at me.

  I go back to my knees in front of her, placing my hands on her thighs before lowering my head to rest my forehead on my hand. My wolf is frantic with worry, fearing she’s going to walk away from us forever. The feeling eats away at me like acid.

  “Please.” I look up at her, knowing that there is a plea in my eyes. Having her this close, smelling her sweet vanilla scent, I feel incomplete. “Tell me.”

  The hurt in her eyes as she stares down at me is like a dagger to the gut. She blinks, and I see when she makes her decision. For a split second, I feel relief, until she tells me what I’ve done.

  “You screwed me in an alley and then walked away like I was a piece of garbage you were done with.”

  Blood rushes out of my head, and there’s a whooshing sound in my ears that momentarily drowns out all other sounds.

  “When? No. I wouldn’t have forgotten that.”

  Bridget just looks pissed now. “You seemed to have forgotten a lot of things after that happened. Including my name.”

  “When, Bridget?” I know my voice is harsh, but I wouldn’t have forgotten her. I couldn’t have.

  Her face is flush with embarrassment, and she gets up again. “I don’t really want to rehash how you made me feel like shit, Silas. I don’t know what game you’re playing with me. Pretending you care about me, then ignoring me, and then treating me like a complete stranger. I don’t want to play games. I want someone to care for me. To want me for me, not as the pawn in some stupid messed up head games.”

  She pushes me out of the way, and I’m too stunned to stop her as she hurries past me. But I’m not out of it for long, and I manage to get in front of her before she reaches the door. Not that she can go anywhere anyway. I drove her here, and there’s no way I’m letting her walk home alone, through the woods, in the dark.

  I invade her space, and she takes a step back, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Her head tilts up as she looks at me with determined eyes. There’s a glimmer of hurt in her amber colored eyes, but I can tell she’s trying to hide it behind a brave face. I crowd her until the back of her knees bump against a chair. Leaning down into her just enough to get too close, she sits down in the chair, looking so torn it guts me.

  Bridget’s eyes widen, and her mouth parts with silent oh of surprise when I sink to my knees in front of her, placing my hands on her knees. My thumbs rub gently over the cloth of her jeans, and I wish I could feel her skin.

  I hold her gaze as I try to think of an explanation to something I don’t understand.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Silas

  “I really don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Bridget shakes her head, and my fingers bite into the muscle of her legs before I realize what I’m doing. I yank my hands back, although I don’t think I’ve hurt her, not if the flare of hunger in her eyes is any indication.

  “I don’t have any memory of being with you.”

  A stabbing pain cuts through my chest at the look on her face. Her jaw is clenched, and there’s a wounded smile that won’t quite stay put on her mouth. Her lips keep pressing together and then returning to that pitiful smile as she swallows thickly.

  “Got it. You were drunk. It was a mistake. End of story.” Bridget’s voice is thin, and her whole body deflates in front of me.

  “Bridget, no. I… God! I don’t know. Why can’t I remember?” I stand abruptly, the need to run or shout or tear my house apart twitching beneath my skin. I dig my hands into my hair, a feral growl coming from my chest. “When did this happen? How long ago? How badly have I fucked up?”

  My breath is coming in shallow pants, and there’s a rumble from within that tells me my wolf wants to take over. I’m quickly losing control of myself, and that never happens. I stumble back, hunching my shoulders, and I try to reign the aggression and anger that are riling up me and my wolf.

  Bridget almost looks like she wants to comfort me, but she stiffens, shoving her hands under her legs as if to stop them from reaching out.

  “I’m sorry. I need… a minute.” I was going to tell her I needed a run, but this was definitely not the time to tell her about my wolf. Fuck. How did this all get so fucked up?

  “Stay. I beg you. I’ll be back soon. Please, just stay,” I plead with her as I back my way to the door. Bridget doesn’t move, she just stares at me, looking as confused as I feel.

  Shifting is something that is nearly effortless for me. There’s no painful cracking of bones a
nd stretching of skin like it’s portrayed in movies. The wolf is part of me. Our souls are intertwined so that we are two halves of a whole. Becoming a wolf is simply like waking up in the morning. A normal everyday occurrence. That doesn’t mean that my wolf sits back unnoticed or patient all the time. We often fight for dominance, and it’s worse for me because I’m an Alpha in both my human and wolf forms. The need to be in charge and to gather my pack around me, providing and protecting them, is instilled so deep within me that I can’t imagine not being their leader.

  My wolf and I are both riled up, and if I don’t run, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I’m a powder keg ready to ignite. If anyone were to get in my face right now, it's highly likely I’d rip them to shreds. I’ve got my shirt off and start working on my pants when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I’m tempted to ignore it, but the Alpha in me won’t allow it. Pulling it out of my pocket, I curse at the name that flashes on the screen.

  “What do you want?” My tone is less than friendly as I greet Killian. I’m still pissed that his red headed girlfriend made a snack out of Bridget.

  “Hello to you, sunshine.” Killian’s voice is teasing, but he’s always been a bit of an asshole, so I expect nothing less.

  “I’m about to tear the limbs off the next idiot that walks into my line of sight, Killian, so if you have something to say, spit it out,” I command, my voice low and edged with barely-contained anger. My wolf is pacing around inside me, annoyed by the disruption to our run. The need to run and work out some of the energy and emotion surging through me is debilitating. I stomp across my driveway instead, anxious to work off some of this frustration.

  “Fine, I’ll cut to the chase. Hollis recalled something today.”

  “Who the fuck is Hollis?” I snap, stabbing my hand through my hair.

  “Watch your damn tone, wolf,” Killian snarls back at me.

  “Damnit, Killian. I’m barely hanging on to my humanity here. What is it?”

  I hear a sigh, and Killian pauses before he answers. It’s killing me. “Hollis is the vamp-witch. After we saw you at Alarik’s, she remembered why she came to see you the other day.”

  “That’s great, Killian. Sorry we didn’t get to catch up while she was feeding on my girl.” My girl? Shit.

  Surprise washes through me when Killian doesn’t touch that statement, and I realize how worked up he is about this.

  “You’ve been cursed, Silas.”

  There’s silence on both ends of the line as neither of us speaks. I’m taking in his words and trying to understand how to connect them to reality.

  After a beat, with my voice so low with barely restrained anger it’s barely audible, I ask, “Cursed? How so?”

  “Listen, Silas, there’s a whole story behind this, and I don’t want you to retaliate against Hollis. This wasn’t her fault.”

  “What the fuck did she do to me, Killian?” I spit out. Heat crawls up my neck and burns over my face.

  “Anytime you fuck someone, you forget them.”

  “What the fuck?” I bellow so loudly that Bridget comes running out the front door, instead of staying safe inside, which would make more sense. My breath is coming in short, erratic huffs as anger pulses through me. Leaving streams of frosty smoke billowing in the air.

  “Give yourself a minute to calm down, then we’ll come meet you. She’ll explain everything. Bring your baker,” Killian says, the faintest ring of protectiveness in his tone.

  “You’ve got an hour. Text me where,” I snarl as I hang up on him and contemplate throwing my phone. But I need the damn thing for Killian to get back in touch with me.

  I need to run, to let my wolf loose, but I really can’t right now. Bridget is on my front porch, clutching the wooden banister as she stares at me, wide eyed. She looks frightened and cold as I pace back and forth across the driveway. My feet crunch against the gravel of the drive, and the sound is like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Silas?” Bridget’s soft voice floats through the night air and sucks the breath right out of me. I stop and feel my heart drop down to my chest. What have I done to this woman? What have I put her through? Even though I can smell her fear in the air, I don’t think it's me she’s afraid of. It’s the situation that has her worried, and I think she might be worried for me. I don’t deserve that much kindness from her, especially after all I’ve done.

  I stagger toward her, coming to a stop in front of where she’s standing on the porch. It’s higher than the ground, so my head comes just to her shoulder. Tipping my head back, I look up at her. Pain and regret greet me, and I hate that I’m responsible for those feelings in her.

  I search her face, hoping she’ll tell me what I need to know. “How did we meet?” I ask, emotion making my throat feel thick. My voice sounds deeper than usual because of it, and the words paint the air with a stream of fog from the cold.

  Bridget bites on the corner of her mouth, and I see her chin tremble a little. This hasn’t been easy for her, and I’m flooded with the dual emotions of satisfaction and anger. To think that maybe I might mean something to her fills me with a buoyant emotion but knowing how badly I’ve fucked this up makes me sick. Now I can see her struggling with whether she should tell me or not.

  My hands grip the slats on the railing, and my forehead falls to rest on her shoulder. I inhale her sweet scent and want to howl in frustration, but I try to give her more time. She inhales a jerky breath and swallows loudly.

  “We met at a festival. It was my first week in town.” Her voice is soft, and she’s shifting as if uncomfortable. Her hands clench the railing tightly, and I want to pry them loose and press kisses to each fingertip. I lift my head and pull back far enough to look at her, but she’s not looking at me. Her eyes are locked on the night sky as if she might find enough strength in the endless universe to get through this.

  “How long ago was that?”

  Bridget licks her lips, and her eyes flicker as she traces the path from one star to the next. “Just about two and a half years now.”

  This time I can’t contain my wolf. He’s furious, and his anger roars inside of me, escaping in a deep growl that reverberates in my chest. The sound is enough to bring Bridget’s eyes down from the sky, and she looks unbalanced and wary.

  “Tell me the rest.” I manage to get my voice somewhat in check. “Please.”

  “You smiled at me, and I liked your dimple. You had kind eyes.” Her voice trails off, and she sniffs. It’s cold out, but I don’t think that's why. My heart feels like it’s been placed in a vice and she’s slowly turning the crank, squeezing the life out of me.

  “Then what?” I ask softly.

  “You used to come into my shop almost every day. You’d stay so long that my other customers would get annoyed.” She laughs a little, but it sounds more sad than amused.

  “For how long?”

  “Almost a year,” she states simply, as though it’s not tearing her apart, and my own heart aches for everything that I can’t remember. Every conversation we had that’s gone. But it’s like a massive punch to the gut. My chest constricts to the point that I have to focus on getting in a deep breath. Why the fuck would someone do this to us? She remembers the words we shared. She remembers it all and has no idea why I pretended I didn’t know her.

  “Are you feeling well enough to come somewhere with me?” I take a step back from the porch, flexing my aching fingers as I release the railing.

  “Where?” She’s not saying no. I’ll take that as a win.

  “I need to go see a vampire.”

  Killian texts within the hour to meet at his house. Bridget agrees to come along, despite the fact that a vampire recently made a snack out of her arm. I fill her in on what I know, but it’s not much. I think I figured out more about my curse from our short conversation on my porch than I gleaned from Killian. Bridget looks tired, and I’m tempted to strong-arm her into staying here or maybe dropping her off at her house. When I mention it, she shoots me down with a wit
hering look that has me smiling for her wee fierceness. I know that’s not her intention, and she’s probably pissed about my reaction, but I can’t help it.

  “I won’t argue with you. You can come along. I just thought you might want to get some rest.” I cave so fast I’m a little surprised by my lack of fight. I have this overwhelming desire to do anything she wants. To please her in every way, just as any wolf would do for his mate. I freeze as a new thought occurs to me. A heated flush rolls over my skin, and my heart starts thumping wildly. I can’t remember the first time I touched Bridget. I wouldn't know if I’d gotten the mate-flash. She could be my mate. Holy fuck. I quickly try to regain some semblance of control. The last thing I need to do is freak her out more.

  “You look tired is just a cloaked insult for you look like shit.” Bridget’s voice is snippy as she scampers up behind me, trying to catch up as I wait by the front door, holding it open for her.

  Bridget skitters to a halt when I move in front of the door, cutting off her exit. Her amber colored eyes are flashing back and forth between confused and irritated. I touch her cheek, sweeping my thumb just below her eye. Her fatigue appears in the bluish-purple smudges beneath her eyes, but it doesn’t detract from her beauty.

  “You always look beautiful.” Her face scrunches up in a disbelieving frown. “No matter how tired or angry, whether you’re all dressed up or without a stitch of make-up on, you are perfect.” I don’t say more about how half of that is because of the inner glow of kindness and love that pours out of her. I’m tempted to keep on spilling out more words of praise.

  The only thing that stops me is that I can tell how uncomfortable she is with the compliment. It’s obvious she doesn’t hear them enough, and I’ll have to rectify that. The funny thing is, she’s been mad at me for the last year. And the last year is all I remember of her. I’m beyond pissed that there was a different version of our interactions that I can’t recall. I feel robbed, violated to have them taken from me.