Page 81 of Cursebound

I hold his face in my hands and kiss his lips. “Don’t leave me, Luca,” I murmur. “Please don’t leave me!”

He manages to open his lids, and his irises are made of mosaics—like tiny crystals solidifying in his eyes. He gazes up at me, and in a whisper, says, “I don’t want to, bella. But it was worth it. You were worth it. I love you.”

His eyes close, his head lolls to one side, and I wail. There is so much raw emotion inside me that I might burst with it. It builds, powerful and commanding and impossible to resist. I am hot from the inside out, my blood boiling beneath my skin, my eyes burning embers.

I am going to kill somebody. I am going to kill everybody. I am going to destroy the whole goddamn world. Luca has been taken from me, and they will all pay for it. I lay his head on the floor and prepare to slaughter.

Just as I am climbing to my feet, screaming with rage, Luca sucks in one huge, shuddering breath. I drop down by his side, wondering if I imagined it. I hold his head, slap his cheeks, yell his name. Eventually, it happens again—he sucks in another breath, his chest rattling with the effort.

Abruptly, he sits upright, his hand clutching at his breastbone, his eyes back to normal. Brown, ringed with red. Beautiful. I fall into his arms, weeping and running my hands over him, desperate to know it’s true—desperate to know he has come back to me.

I kiss him and slap him some more, and eventually, he puts his arms around me and holds me still.

“What happened?” I ask. “I thought you were gone!”

“I kind of was. Maybe I was a second or two away from it. Then, well, it stopped. The pressure let up. Vincenzo…” He stands unsteadily and pulls me up by his side. We look up at the stage, still bathed in eerie red light, now washed in blood as well, littered with bodies and weapons and the head that Stefano chucked up there. Signs of battle are all around, and right in the middle of it all, still sitting in his dragon-wing throne, is Don Vincenzo.

Dead. A stake sticking through his back and emerging from his chest.

Standing next to him, waving down at us and smiling, is Freya. The girl that nobody sees.

CHAPTER 29

MINERVA

Alot has happened in a short amount of time. One night of carnage turned into a revolution, and now the world is painted in shades of uncertainty.

I love it.

For so long now, my life has been a prison—a predictable prison dominated by a monster’s needs. Now, I have no idea what will happen next, and there is a lightness and a joy to that. A freedom that I forgot existed.

Vincenzo is dead, and not a minute too soon. Luca is the new Don, at least for now. Tomasso Capelli is on the run from his own grandchildren and the vengeful Vecchissime families who now know the truth about him. Pietro has sworn to make it his life’s work to find him. The Grand Ball Sack may be cunning and resourceful, but I don’t like his odds.

Luca has held his first court and is promising a fresh start for the Cosca. He reached out to the Romas and explained what had happened and why a small army came to be camped out near their headquarters. The soldiers never received the order to attack, but the Roma Don was furious.

Luca offered an olive branch—Vincenzo’s head on ice. So far, the peace is holding, but it is fragile. Aidan Flynn has come out of exile and agreed to stay on as consigliere, but Sophia has yet to return from Toronto, and nobody knows how she will react to her father’s death.

There are a lot of dangers, a lot of threats. Luca is new. There will be sharks in the water looking for any signs of weakness. Sniffing for blood like the predators they are.

With Rosa at his side, it’s hard to imagine him ever being vulnerable, but she may not always be at his side. I watched her that night—once I dispensed with the witch who was brain-melting her—and saw the bone-deep love and need and anguish when she thought Luca was dying. And I saw her when she thought he was gone. When she stood up amid the wreckage and shone with power. Literally shone, like a beacon.

I don’t know if I was the only one who saw it, but everything about her changed—her green eyes glowed, her hair floated as though electrified, and I swear I saw sparks fly from her fingertips. There’s a lot we don’t know about the Seers. A lot we don’t know about Rosa Capelli—probably things even she doesn’t know. There will need to be a time for questions.

For now, though, we are focused on only one thing—the blood spell that binds them.

Almost a week has passed since Vincenzo’s death, and it has been a busy one. Donatella is staying on for a while and has taken Freya under her wing. They’ve been for mani-pedis, went to a salon where Freya got a new haircut, and she’s catching up on human culture by watching a lot of TV.

Personally, I think she also needs a therapist, but it’s going to be hard to find someone qualified to deal with this particular situation.

Rosa has been drawing up plans to pursue and destroy Tomasso, and Luca has been establishing his power base—but they have found plenty of time for fucking. Loud, constant, fabulously good fucking. I’m sensitive to other people’s pleasure and other people’s pain. The perfect blend of both, they’ve been tough to be around. Even secondhand, their sex is mind-blowing.

Now, though, we are here, back in Luca’s house in Brooklyn where they sit side by side at the kitchen table, unable keep their hands off each other. It’s like their bodies don’t feel whole if they’re not touching.

“Are you sure?” I say, not for the first time. “Are you sure you want to try and break this spell? Not many people are lucky enough to find what you guys have together. It seems kind of bonkers to consider throwing it away.”

Rosa smiles at me, and Luca puts his arm around her shoulder, pulling her hard against him. She flares with desire as her hands go to his chest, and it licks over me like someone is dripping honey onto my tongue. Jesus.

“We’re sure, Minnie,” he says, his voice a deep rasp. “She needs to know, and I already do. This isn’t a blood spell. What we have is stronger than that. This is love.”

Rosa nods, and I hope he’s right.

I light my herbs in their burners and waft the smoke around me. Allowing myself to sink into the moment, I begin to chant.

I find the spell—and I break it.