Page 26 of Cursed Evermore

Her lips, as full and plump as bruised berries had parted and that long, luscious hair cascading down her slim shoulders like liquid autumn reminded me of blood seeping from a fatal wound in the final moments of twilight.

Her body, a lethal composition of soft curves and sharp edges beneath her gown, had whispered promises of pleasure, tempting me.

Yet innocence brimmed in her eyes. A stark contrast to the evocative image she was. Watching her that way was like finding an untouched lily blooming in blood-soaked soil.

I’d been with many women in my long life and fucked more mortal women than I could remember. None of them had ever made my blood run hot like this.

Dangerous thoughts, Wolfe. Frivolous thoughts.

I forced them down.

Maybe my body was betraying me because it had been a while since I had a woman. I’d been entirely focused on the shit happening in Galaythia with the rebels. Now I had to focus on something that could change everything—her.

Except I never expected my villain to be a half-human, half-mage with underdeveloped powers who hardened my cock.

I didn’t think she murdered my father and stole the ring from him.

Elariya would have been fifteen at the time of his death. Not an age you’d expect a killer to be. And there was no way in fuckshe’d slipped into the magical realm, much less the palace, and killed my father the way he was killed.

Nevertheless, the tracking spell was foolproof. It had been crafted to hunt throughblood, following the trail that would leadme to the ring. The Seer had created it herself, infusing it with phoenix tears for absolute precision.

Magic didn’t lie. Neither did blood. The tracker led me to her. Which meant she had a link to the ring, one way or another.

My guess was she’d come by it through someone else. And since the wraith called her a thief… I’d wager she stole it.

As for her powers… if they were as underdeveloped as I’d sensed, what in the hells had I just witnessed?

Those were Nyzith strands. Rare, silver threads of ancient magic.

Had she conjured them?

From her stunned reaction, I couldn’t be certain.

The essence hadn’t felt like it came from her. There was something external about it that I couldn’t put my finger on. It would have been one hell of a coincidence for them to suddenly emerge.

Only she and I had seen them as they danced about the air, and she’d looked just as shocked as me when they first appeared.

I didn’t know if she reacted that way because she’d unleashed magic in a tavern brimming with magic-hating people. Or if it was the first time she’d ever seen them.

The silver threads had woven through the air like whispers of fate, delicate yet unbreakable. Something about the threads felt... familiar and wrong at the same time. The hairs on my arms rose, a primal reaction I buried before it could take hold.

I didn’t have time for fear. I had to know what I was up against. That’s why I left. I had to regroup.

Only high-level magical beings could harness Nyzith strands. From what I'd sensed, Elariya wasn't even on par with a low-level mage. And that was despite her powers not being bound like they should have been for mixed beings living in the mortal realm. There was also a break in the flow of her magic, usually caused from burnout.

Most likely, that came from portaling away from my wraith. It had shown me what happened the night she cast the blood spell and how she got away.

But maybe I was wrong about her powers.

Maybe her magic was stronger than I could detect.

If Elariya had conjured the threads, that could have been how she was able to break through my shield.

It was also possible that she’d broken through it because the magic I’d used was weaker than usual. I’d wanted my visit to the mortal realm kept secret from my uncle.

If I’d used stronger magic, even what was considered basic in Galaythia, he or other beings like him would pick up my signature and know I was here. Hence my decision to use the Obscura instead of a stronger cloaking shield, and traveling by ship instead of portaling.

The mortal lands were cut off, magic-starved. A muted world. The Obscura was imperfect here but it was the only place my shadows could still obey me, even if barely. Without the magical realm’s pulse beneath my feet, my magic frayed at the edges. I was a ghost trying to hold form in a world that had no place for me.