Page 11 of A Soul’s Curse (Fallen Souls #1)

“Ha! So you are a demon!” I exclaimed, but he didn’t respond.

“You realize the irony of your words, right? Considering you saved a stranger and treated his wounds?” I pushed myself up off the floor and frowned at him.

“Okay, fine. Well, I’m not a stranger. You already know my name is Theo.

And the last time I checked, demons might heal faster than the average human, but not when they’re stabbed with a knife blazing with a rune that prevents wounds from healing. ”

He hesitated for a moment, and I wondered if maybe my assumption was wrong. I could feel something radiating off that wound—toxic magic reaching out to mine. I wondered if it was one of the runes from Leon’s knife.

In a fit of frustration, I snatched my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans, surprised I hadn’t lost it last night.

I flipped it open and flashed him my license.

“Look. I’m not lying. That’s me,” I said, pointing to the picture on my license, “and now you know my birthday, so I’m expecting you to send me a gift. ”

He stared at it for a second, then said, “What would you like me to get you?” I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or being serious. There was no sass in his tone.

“Well, I’m a big fan of wine and cheese.

But I’ll settle on an early gift if you tell me your name.

” Ever so slowly, I removed the dirty rag he had tied around his arm and placed it on the desk.

The gash spanned maybe two inches across his bicep.

It looked nasty, and I was right about the rune.

While it was healing, there was a subtle presence of magic that was preventing his own demon magic from healing it at the rate it should have been.

Even through the fabric of his clothing, I could tell it was still raw and oozing blood.

“Warren,” he said with a hiss as I pressed lightly against the edge of the angry wound. He relaxed, just barely, as my fingertips ran across the sticky fabric on the arm of his hoodie.

“Okay, Warren—”

“Ren, actually. I go by Ren.”

A satisfied smile crept up my face. Now we were getting somewhere.

“Ren. This looks pretty deep, and I’m worried that because you didn’t immediately treat it, it’ll become infected.

You’re going to need to take off this hoodie so I can have a closer look.

It’s dirty and saturated in blood, and I need to assess the damage so I can figure out how to heal it. ”

“I’d rather not,” came his immediate answer.

The tremendous willpower it took me not to slap him was commendable.

I grumbled under my breath, running a hand through my greasy hair and wishing I could take a shower to clean myself up.

My shirt had a nice hole in it from where the heat of the urn had burned right through, and I felt a layer of grime coating my skin from Archie’s ink magic.

“Okay, Ren . I don’t know what your deal is, but you’re a grown-ass adult, and so am I.

If you really know who I am, then you know I don’t care if you’re a demon.

I don’t care if you’re a part-demon part-donkey shifter with the body of a troll.

Please , take off the damn hoodie, before I lose my temper and melt it right off your body myself. ”

He raised an eyebrow at that, or at least I presumed he did when he tilted his head at me in that “I don’t believe you” kind of gesture. That damn hood was definitely some kind of concealing spell, because even this close to him I couldn’t make out his face.

Accepting the challenge, I snatched his wrist and released my magic.

It latched onto the fabric, burning the thick cotton.

The cuff of his sleeve shriveled up, and little by little the fabric dissolved.

The sweet aroma quickly turned bitter, leaving an unpleasant stench of scorched earth in the air.

Ren yanked his injured arm away. “Fine! You’ve made your point.”

Even though he struggled to shrug off his hoodie, the wound clearly hurting more than he let on, I didn’t offer help. He kept his gaze averted from mine until he tossed the tattered piece of clothing off to the side and shot me an annoyed glower. “Happy now? Let’s get this over with.”

In a very rare moment, I was stunned speechless.

Ren was … mesmerizing—built like a powerhouse, with his unnaturally large biceps straining against the tight fabric of his black t-shirt.

Intrigue claimed me at the sight of a similar designed tattoo coiling down both arms, and I almost asked him to take off his shirt too because I wanted to see the whole thing.

The black design looked like … tentacles maybe?

I forced myself to stop staring, reminding myself I had a boyfriend and I shouldn’t be ogling some other man, but assessing the rest of Ren’s body proved to be just as distracting.

Underneath the dried blood on his arms and smeared across his face, there was an undeniable, dangerous allure that perfectly complimented his “bad boy” attitude.

His sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and angular nose gave him a fiercely handsome appearance.

The silver barbell in his right eyebrow and the small hoop through his bottom lip only emphasized his wild nature.

His maroon eyes caught in the filtered sunlight with the richness of a fine red wine.

The only thing that seemed out of place was his lack of horns, something unheard of for a demon, although they could have been small enough to be hidden beneath the disheveled auburn hair that curled around his ears and across his forehead.

“What are you waiting for?” he grunted. The natural roughness of his words had a commanding edge.

“Um, right. I wish I had my backpack. Do you have any supplies I can use? Something to clean this up and bandage it?”

Ren nodded over toward the dresser, where my black backpack rested against the edge. My heart skipped a beat. Not only had he treated my wounds, but he took the time to take my backpack with him too? How did he even know it was mine?

“I’m assuming this came from Leon’s knife?

Did you have a run in with him at the museum before you found me?

” Ren didn’t answer me as I delicately rolled up his t-shirt sleeve and I wiped down his bicep, trying to get a better look at the tattoo as I cleaned it up.

He sat as still as he could, grunting only a few times when I rubbed a cleansing salve against a tender spot.

He refused to take off his shirt and wouldn’t let me examine him very closely, but he assured me that was the only serious injury he sustained.

Since he wasn’t going to answer my questions, I moved on to something else. “My magic can dissolve that spell the knife left behind and close this up,” I told him, “but if you move around a lot, it probably won’t hold. I’ll need to add a few stitches to keep the wound from opening up again.”

“Stitches? What are you, a doctor or something?” he sniffed.

I laughed at his assumption. “Not even close. I deliver pizzas. But my sister went to nursing school. She's Deaf, actually, so I was her interpreter during classes. I don’t have a fancy degree or license like she does, but I was there for the entire two years of the program. Everything she learned, I did too. We even learned sign language magic together. This might feel weird …”

My hands gently caressed Ren’s wound and I reached out with my magic, letting it penetrate his skin.

His skin was unnaturally warm, mine unnaturally cold as my magic bled out of me to do its work.

To avoid the awkward silence, I continued talking, and I said something I never imagined I’d say to someone I had just met.

“My magic is … well, it’s technically death magic. ”

I immediately wished I could take back the words, but they had already tumbled out of my mouth.

“Oh.” I expected Ren to pull away, but he didn’t appear even the least bit frightened, or even surprised.

“ ‘Oh?’ ” I questioned. “That’s not the usual reaction I get when I’m treating someone who suddenly learns that my magic was actually designed to kill them.”

“Any magic could kill if used in the right way.” Ren shrugged, his voice turning hard and unyielding. “Besides, I’m not worried. I could end your life before you even blink.”

“Good point,” I chuckled, because, despite not knowing what kind of magic he had, I believed that. My magic might have been dangerous, but that didn’t mean I knew how to, or actually wanted to, use it that way.

“The truth is,” he continued. “I’ve learned that what people call your magic means nothing; it’s about what you choose to do with it that matters.”

“That’s a nice way of thinking about it.

I wish more people shared that sentiment.

” Butterflies fluttered around in my stomach as a feeling of overwhelming respect washed over me.

“Right now, my magic is actually feeding off all your dead skin cells and eradicating any infection. What kind of magic do you have?”

His muscles stiffened.

“I mean, I’m sure it’s really awesome if you fought off Leon. Actually, you never told me how you ended up at the museum. Were you tracking the Syndicate? Did you also come across a pompous blond man with a naked dude?”

Ren bent his arm a few times, grunting his approval. Every time he flexed, I couldn’t help but worry that the wound might tear open again from the shear strain of his muscles.

“Ren,” my voice turned gentle, hopefully with understanding. “I remember hearing James calling that other demon his ‘brother.’ Do you know anything about what actually happened last night?”

Ren didn’t get a chance to answer before another man burst through the bedroom door carrying a small first aid kit.

Although he had clearly just woken up, he had way too much energy.

He was wearing nothing but a fluffy white robe, with black hair perfectly styled, the short sides blending seamlessly into the longer length on top.

His tawny skin was impeccable, his horns shiny and pointy, and although he didn’t appear as muscular as Ren, definitely wasn’t lacking in that department.

“Baby brother!” he sang out in a high pitched, melodic voice.

“You crazy bastard, I’m going to tell you one last time …

oh, Theo! You’re up.” He stared at me, his red eyes, deeper and darker than the fiery glow of the sun setting over the horizon, fixed intently on my bewildered expression.

“ And you’re tending to my brother’s wounds.

How sweet.” He nudged his brother in the shoulder.

“He’s cute and helpful. This one’s a keeper, isn’t he?

” I blushed at the compliment. He then turned his attention to me.

“So … tell me everything! I’ve been trying all night to properly bandage that wound.

How did you get him to let you do it? I even tried tickling him to the point of surrender.

” He jumped at Ren, attacking his neck with wiggling fingers.

“Thomas, knock it off!” Ren shot up from his chair and stepped away from his brother. “I’m busy here. Go away.”

“Oh, you’re busy. Doing what, might I ask, with this delicious morsel?

” I internally laughed at their playful banter even as my face burned even hotter with embarrassment.

For all Ren’s effort at remaining the grumpy badass, his brother’s childish antics completely thwarted it.

They were both tall individuals, a good six foot and a couple inches.

But where Ren had perfected the gloomy “I’m rebelling against society” look, his brother was giving off the “I’m a very important person who went to an Ivy League school and belongs to a prestigious yacht club” vibe.

A sudden grin stretched across my face as an idea came to mind. “Your baby brother here was being a grumpy-pants and refused to tell me anything about what happened last night. I don’t suppose you might be so kind as to tell me something?”

“Well, let’s start with introductions. I’m Thomas Thorncrest. Nice to meet you.

” There was a bold confidence in the way he said his name.

Then, with an air of practiced elegance, he extended his hand and I gave it an awkward shake.

“You were probably too distracted by my glorious naked body last night. Let me refresh your memory—”

“Thomas!” Ren snapped. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I should have let you rot in that urn.”

“Wait, woah, hold on! Urn?” I tried to make sense of the situation, my gaze ping-ponging between them before it landed on Thomas and panic vibrated through me. “ You were the person who was trapped inside that urn? But you were so … so …”

“Menacing? Pissed off? Stunningly attractive? I apologize for the discomfort my magic caused you. I didn’t know what was going on, only that I saw the face of my former lover who trapped me inside that urn a hundred years ago. But it wasn’t really him, so it’s all good.”

“Lover?” I stared at Thomas, not following a thing but remembering there was a contract that went along with that urn. “So, wait … James was your lover? And you two are brothers?” I spoke out loud more to myself than anyone else. “I’m so confused …”

“It’s simple, really,” Thomas offered an easy smile.

“My baby brother here actually killed my lover, the real James Whitfield, and assumed his identity by glamouring himself in order to infiltrate the Syndicate and free me. I must thank you for releasing me from that urn, Theo. I literally owe you my life. After a century of being trapped inside that fancy flowerpot, my skin was becoming dry and wrinkly.”

Ren averted his gaze toward the door, probably weighing his odds of escaping this awkward conversion.

“So a fucking demon was pretending to be James Whitfield?” I glowered at Ren. I clenched a fist and stepped toward him, but Thomas quickly moved to block my path and stop my swing.

“Ooookay! I always prefer to have a full stomach before diving into a full-on bloodbath. How about we continue catching up over breakfast?” Thomas flashed a grin that seemed more like he was planning something than offering a friendly gesture.

“It’s been a hundred years since I ate anything.

I saw a box of something in the kitchen cabinet with a silly looking cartoon vampire on it.

I’m dying to try whatever it is. Let’s go. ”