Shadow Cursed (Shadow Falls Series Book 2)

by Lizzy Prince

  “That was a close call there, wolf.” Remi’s tone isn’t accusatory, but there is a definite warning buried within her words. She moves off the bed, pausing when she reaches me near the doorway.

  “Don’t hurt her again.” Remi searches my face, as if she’ll find a secret hidden there.

  “That’s the last thing I want to do.” I watch the rise and fall of Bridget’s back with her breathing and want nothing more than to wrap my arms around her.

  Remi nods and calls out over her shoulder as she leaves the room, “Keep it in your pants, Ivailo.”

  I slip into bed behind Bridget, and her body immediately turns, wrapping around me like it’s instinctual. My run worked out any of the booze in my system, and my head is a lot clearer than it was before. I’m a fucking idiot. I was this close to sinking into Bridget and losing everything. I’ve never been so grateful for fucking Dante and meddling Remi. My arms squeeze Bridget tighter to me, and a contented sound parts her lips. Holding her to me the rest of the night is going to be torture, but I’ll be damned if I let her go again.

  I have no idea how I manage to drift to sleep with Bridget’s sweet little body tangled around me, but enough muted sunlight is filtering into the room to wake me. Like most of Dante’s house, this room has one whole wall of windows. They’re tinted so that no one can see in from the outside, and I’m pretty sure Dante had them tempered so that vampires without day walking abilities can be inside without fear of bursting into flames. I don’t really know why, because Killian is essentially the only vampire we hang out with. Dante keeps a lot more things close to the vest than I think most people realize, and I’m not about to question his motives.

  The room we’re in has the same modern furniture that populates the rest of the house, but it’s still comfortable. Except when it comes to getting in and out of the bed. The king-sized bed is on a platform that is so fucking low to the ground I had to do some kung fu shit to get in and out of the thing.

  Bridget’s body shifts against me, and a low moan grates from the back of her throat. I’m praising Jesus and all his bloody apostles that I put on some sweats before I got back into the bed. Bridget is covered only by the sheet, and far too much of her smooth skin is pressed up against me, and yet, it’s not nearly enough. Her breasts push against my side, and I’ve been reciting all the different pastries I’ve eaten since I met Bridget in order to distract from the feeling. The only thing it’s done is to make me hungry for food and Bridget.

  An amber eye cracks open, and Bridget’s entire body stiffens. She jerks up and away from me like an electric current is running over my skin. She sits back on her heels with a hand over her mouth, a horrified expression on her face. An instant later, her face turns bright red when she realizes the quick movements have lost her the only covering she had. She’s sitting in front of me completely naked, looking like a wet-fucking-dream.

  I groan and scrub a hand over my face, closing my eyes while I feel her scramble for the sheet.

  “Oh my God. What have we done? Shit. Shit. Shit,” she mumbles as she shakes her head, her entire body starting to tremble.

  “Bridget. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. How could we?” Her chin trembles, and tears gather in her glazed eyes.

  She opens her mouth to say something else but stops, snapping it shut as her eyes narrow. “Wait. You called me Bridget.”

  “Yes, we didn’t do anything.” Bridget looks down at the sheet she’s clutching to her chest with her fist.

  “Okay, we didn’t have sex.” I sit up, and she exhales a relieved breath when she takes notice of my sweats. I slide my hand up her arm and shoulder and cup her cheek. She leans into the touch, and her eyes drift closed.

  “Memory is still good. Well, as good as it was yesterday,” I whisper, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her entire body sags into me, and she wraps her arms around my waist, which only causes the sheet to drop down to the bed. I clear my throat. “Are you trying to make me forget?”

  “Ugh, no.” She picks up the sheet again and shimmies off the bed. “Let’s just put a little distance between us. All my common sense seems to fly out the window whenever I’m near you.” She makes another guttural sound. “Plus, my mouth feels like something camped out in it until it died. Did someone make me drink something green apple flavored last night?” Bridget smacks her mouth together in a way that I’m sure no one else but me would find adorable.

  “I’m pretty sure no one forced you to drink anything last night.” I chuckle, and she glares at me. “How are you feeling?” I move to the edge of the bed to sit, but my knees are up to my damn shoulders so I decide to stand up and look for the rest of our clothing.

  “Yeah, the hangover is really starting to settle in. I need coffee. And grease. And something full of carbohydrates.” Her hair is a tangled halo around her head, her eyes are heavy-lidded and drowsy, making her look delectably disheveled. I want to pull her back into the bed and stay there all day, but we can’t afford to lounge around doing nothing.

  I gather her clothes and walk them over to her, dangling her bra on the tip of my finger. Bridget doesn’t even bat an eye as she drops the sheet and takes the lingerie from me and puts it on. Damn, I’ve never known that getting dressed could be so fucking sexy.

  At first, I think she’s oblivious to what she’s doing to me, but then she peeks over at me under the veil of her long hair. The sound I make is a cross between pain and frustration as I close the space between us in two steps. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pick her up so that her face is level with mine. “Don’t you know it’s a bad idea to tease a wolf?” I nuzzle my nose against her neck, and her pulse leaps in response when I press my lips against the thrumming beat. “You are torturing me.”

  “Payback is a bitch,” she says, but there’s no malice in the words. It’s more of a sigh as her arms tangle around my neck. “But I really do need to brush my teeth.”

  “You still want to come with me today? To see the wise woman.”

  “Yes. There’s no way I’m not going.”

  I nip at the soft skin of her jaw and set her down gently, smacking her on the butt when she turns around to grab the rest of her clothes. Bridget gasps, and the sound is more sensual than surprised. I need to stop playing with her because it’s only making my dick hard as fucking steel and torturing us both.

  “Fuck. I’ll meet you out in the other room.” I turn and leave her to finish getting ready.

  Dante’s out in his kitchen making something in a noisy-as-fuck blender. It’s green. I don’t know what it is. I just know it looks disgusting.

  “Good morning, Silas. Did you have a pleasant evening with Ms. Ranolf?”

  “Perfectly pleasant,” I reply noncommittally.

  “And you still remember who she is?” he asks with his back to me, pouring out his foul-looking mixture into a tall frosted glass.

  “I’m not going to thank you, so stop fishing.” I’d told him and Alarik about the curse last night after one of the hellishly-potent shots Dante had mixed up for us. And even though I was grateful enough to kiss the fucking ground Dante walked on that he and Remi stopped me and Bridget last night, I’ll be damned if I tell Dante that.

  “Smoothie?” Dante smiles knowingly and offers up the rest of his disgusting-looking concoction to me.

  “Fuck no. What is that?” I recoil from the gross mixture, making Dante laugh as he shrugs, drinking half of the brew in one long chug.

  Bridget looks a lot happier now that she’s showered and has a giant cup of coffee and a muffin in her hands. I dropped her off at her house so that she could get ready while I ran home and did the same. By the time I got back to her house, she came dashing out the front door holding a brown bag in one hand and her coffee in another. Her hair is loose down her back today, making her look relaxed and comfortable. Not that she doesn’t look fucking edible when her hair is all twisted up in braids, but there’s something more open and vulnerable about her like t
his. Almost as if her hair is her armor, and she’s letting me see beneath the steel.

  After she pulled out the muffin, she handed me the bag, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a chocolate croissant inside. There was no doubt that after all the time I’ve spent in Bridget’s shop that she knows it’s my favorite.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, leaning over to brush a kiss on her cheek. A cheek that blooms with a gentle blush that only enhances her beauty. My wolf gently growls in agreement.

  “Sure. It’s nothing.” She tries to blow it off like most compliments I’ve given her and quickly attempts to get the attention off her. “Tell me again where we’re going?” she asks before she takes a bite of her muffin.

  I follow suit with my croissant, eating half of it in one bite, a contented humming noise sounding in the back of my throat. From the corner of my eye, I see Bridget smiling.

  “There’s a woman who’s known to be a mystic, soothsayer, shaman, take your pick of the label. Anyway, she’s something of a legend and myth wrapped up in one. All wolves are told about her from when we are children. She’s a boogie man or a savior, depending on who you ask.”

  “Wow, you’re really selling this. Tell me again why we’re visiting her? Because I’m imagining a toothless crone who lures little children to her hut so she can cook them for dinner.”

  I chuckle and crumble up the bag as I finish the last of my pastry. Now that my hand is free, I lay it on her leg. It’s an impulse I can’t control. There’s this need for physical connection that is always out of control when she’s near. If I wasn’t driving, I’d pull her into my lap so I could nuzzle her neck and smell her for the next eternity. I doubt she’d agree though, so I settle for my hand on her leg.

  “To be honest, I think a lot of myths came about because she’s a recluse. She doesn’t interact with many people. She lives in the middle of nowhere, and she’s not a part of a pack, which is unusual for wolves.”

  “Yeah, that’s not making any of this sound any better. You’re just building the case for turning around and heading back home.” Bridget picks up her coffee again, inadvertently brushing her hand against mine with the movement. I hear her breathing hitch, and I count to ten to regain control over my body. Her every little move destroys me.

  “Killian and his witch haven’t made any progress on their end regarding breaking the curse. I honestly don’t know who else to turn to.” My words come out a lot heavier than intended, and Bridget responds by setting her coffee back down and flipping my hand over before threading her fingers through mine. The touch eases some of the panic in my chest, and I feel like I can breathe again.

  “Okay then. We’ll go see her and figure out what answers she can give us.” I squeeze her fingers, not missing how she said we were looking for answers and not just me. Partners. We’re in this together.

  We’ve been on the road for a few hours when Bridget’s head begins to nod. After it happens two more times, I can’t help but chuckle.

  “Bridget, close your eyes. Get some sleep. It’ll be a few more hours before we make it the woman’s house.”

  My eyes drift between her and the road as she rubs her eyes. “No. Shotgun’s responsibility is to stay awake and talk to the driver. I can’t let you fall asleep because I’m napping over here.” She leans on the center console as a huge yawn escapes her mouth.

  “Toots, I’m not going to fall asleep. Supernatural wolf here, remember?” I reach over and clasp her hand, pressing my thumb into her palm, massaging out some of the tension I sense coiling through her body. She groans, and her head lolls against her seat, eyes closed as though that one simple touch is too blissful to imagine. It sends a bolt of desire straight to my gut, and my dick instantly gets hard. From a fucking noise. What this woman does to me would be unsettling if I didn’t like it so much.

  “Since you bring it up, what exactly does it mean? To be a wolf and supernatural. All of that stuff?” Her lids are half closed as she gazes at my face curiously. She looks softened by sleep, even though she hasn’t yet fallen asleep. There’s an intoxicating openness that she exposes when she looks at me. She always looks at me that way, even when she’s pissed. It’s as though her large amber eyes can shutter her feelings and thoughts from others, but never from me. It’s exhilarating to know she can’t hide that part of herself from me, and also a little nerve wracking. I’ve hurt her so badly once before, and I don’t want to repeat past mistakes.

  I want to open myself up to her in the same way. To lay out all of my weaknesses knowing that she’ll be there to protect those vulnerabilities. If I’m honest with myself, it's the ultimate submittal of a wolf. To theoretically expose their throat to another. That’s what sharing myself with an outsider, someone who’s not a wolf, will be.

  “What questions do you have?” I don’t know how much she already knows about wolves, although I suspect it’s very little.

  “Um, when you become a wolf, are you like a Michael Jackson ‘Thriller’ wolf? Or like a wolf in the wild.”

  I laugh at her description, knowing she’s partially giving me shit.

  “Are you asking me if I walk on two legs when I’m wolfed out?” I tease her back, the tips of my lips curving up.

  She turns in her seat to look at me without straining her neck. Her face serious as she contemplates me.

  “Does the wolf take over? Are you, like, a separate entity? God, that’s weird to even think about.” She murmurs the last part to herself.

  I squeeze her fingers again, glad she’s comfortable asking me these things. “For the record, I do not look like Teen Wolf. I look like an actual animal, just slightly larger than what a wolf in the wild would be. As for your other question. It’s a little hard to explain—”

  “—You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t be so nosy,” Bridget quickly interjects.

  “No, I want to tell you. I just hope I can explain it properly. Werewolves can’t be created. They are born. It’s an ancient magic that fused the spirit of wolf and man together. Think of it less as DNA and more that my soul is both man and wolf. I can’t separate the two facets of myself because they’ve only ever existed as one. It’s like a personality trait. You might try to suppress a part of who you are, but it will always bubble up because you can’t be someone you’re not. That’s how it is with my wolf. He’s always with me, making his opinion known. If the wolf and I disagree on something, I know my head’s messed up. He’s the instinctual part of me, the piece that tells me to stop overthinking and listen to my gut. When I shift, I’m still right there. It’s just that my shape has changed.”

  I release a long breath, and my shoulders relax. I didn’t realize how tense I was as I explained what my wolf means to me. Venturing a look at Bridget, I see a soft smile on her lips. Her lids are heavy, and her slow sleepy blinks tell me she’s about to fall asleep. The sight makes me chuckle. “Did I bore you half to sleep with my description?”

  Her smile widens while her eyes slide closed. “No. I was just wondering what things your wolf has been disagreeing with you over.” Her words come out on a breathy exhale.

  My gaze sweeps over her beautiful face, peaceful and perfect as the calm of sleep washes over her. My wolf settles within me, comforted by her mere presence. “Nothing I haven’t figured out on my own. Sleep. I’ll keep us on the road, I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bridget

  The rocking of the vehicle slowly lures me from a deep sleep. My eyes feel filmy, and all I want to do is wash my face. I check out the clock on the dash and see that I’ve been asleep for over three hours. Holy crap. I jolt upright, and Silas reaches over to slide his warm hand over the back of my neck, his strong fingers gently massaging the tense muscles there. I left my hair down that morning, and now it feels like a tangled mess, not that it would have been any better in a braid.

  My mouth is dry, and I eyeball my cold cup of coffee, weighing exactly how thirsty I am. Silas must see the direction of my gaze because he reac
hes down by his door to grab a bottle of water. For a moment, he doesn’t have any hands on the steering wheel, but that doesn’t seem to worry him.

  “Hey, two and ten. Get your hands on the wheel,” I choke out as I grab the water from him so he can get at least one hand back on the wheel. His only response is a little squeeze of my neck and a quiet laugh.

  I gulp down almost half of the bottle of water before I don’t feel so parched. “Why did you let me sleep for so long?” We hadn’t left until early afternoon, but it’s dark outside now, so I must have slept for hours.

  “You obviously needed it. I told you there was no need for you to stay awake.”

  I frown at him, but let it drop. “How much longer until we’re there?”

  “It should be just at the end of this lane.” There’s a trace of worry in his voice, and I have the urge to comfort him. Reaching out, I lay my hand on his thigh, my fingers pressing in a reassuring gesture. Only, I don’t think it has that effect. A low growl of approval thrums from his chest, and the hand on the back of my neck moves to cover my hand, as if he’s afraid I’ll take it away. The heat radiating from him is so enticing that I want to unbuckle and climb onto his lap. To press my whole body to his so I can feel his warmth everywhere.

  “Bridget.” Silas groans out my name as his thumb brushes over the back of my hand. “As much as I want your hands all over my body, I’m going to have a massively raging hard-on when we go see a wise woman if you don’t stop touching me.”

  I can’t help but smile as I dig my fingers into the muscles of his thigh, just a little harder. Reveling in his reaction when his whole body nearly vibrates in the seat next to me.