Page 29 of Cursed (Wicked Heirs #2)

Voices… but they were a thousand miles away.

I was cold, then hot, then cold again, and my body shivered uncontrollably.

“Avril—”

The sensation of being lifted, and then cradled against a broad chest.

Titus?

Where was I?

Was I still in the horrifying catacombs beneath the crypts?

My mother’s tomb—

Oh, gods.

Cold air brushed my skin, and someone wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.

My body lurched, and darkness swept over me again; the world around me flickered like a dying candle.

A broad chest cradled me, steady and warm, but all I could grasp was the heavy weight of exhaustion that pulled at my limbs.

The voices swirled around me—Bastian’s dark voice. Valen’s smooth tones, each word pierced through the fog in my mind.

“She’s burning up!” Bastian snapped. His voice was sharp, almost frantic. “You should’ve been faster!”

“Shut up. You’re not helping,” Valen shot back.

I tried to open my eyes, but it was so hard to see anything—everything was blurry—lights. Streetlights?

“I should have gone ahead—”

“Someone will go back for the bikes. We need to get her back to the house.”

A ripple of magic caressed my body, and I shivered. We’d passed through the protective barrier. Surely—

Gravel crunched under the wheels and the vehicle came to a stop.

Doors opened. Strong arms lifted me and cradled my body against that familiar warmth. I blinked, trying to focus, but shadows danced across my vision. Someone swung the door open and carried me from the vehicle; the night’s chill bit into my skin.

What time was it?

How long had I been in those catacombs?

How long had Clara been dead—

“Get the door,” Valen commanded.

I was barely aware as they moved—Bastian’s soft chuckle echoed in my ears, Valen’s muttered curses as he maneuvered me through Withermarsh’s grand entrance.

“Will you stop squirming?” Bastian said through gritted teeth, though I couldn’t tell if he was joking or if he was genuinely irritated. My limbs felt dead and weak and my head lolled against his chest like a broken doll.

“Just get her upstairs,” Titus said, his voice a low growl. A shiver ran down my spine as something primal stirred within me. Bastian climbed the stairs with Titus and Valen beside him. I could feel their hands on me—steady and warm.

“Avril—” Valen coaxed. His fingers were gentle on my cheek and chin. “You have to let us into your room—”

Shit. The sigils.

My eyes rolled back as I struggled to take hold of my magic—there—the door creaked open and I envisioned the sigils being scratched off the wooden door frame to allow them to enter.

A ripple of power, a sigh—it was done.

“Shit,” Bastian breathed. “Did you feel that?”

“Stop talking,” Titus snapped. “Get her inside.”

More footsteps, and I giggled softly—I felt drunk—strange.

The cool air of my bedroom enveloped me and I let out a soft sigh. I was safe here.

The door slammed shut behind us and the lock clicked.

Bastian’s laugh sounded uneasy.

“Did she just do that?”

“I think she did,” Titus replied.

I was laid gently onto the cool luxury of my coverlet and I moaned as the heat of Bastian’s body was stripped away from me. I blinked as I struggled to make sense of the swirling colors and shapes around me. My stepbrother’s faces loomed above, concern etched in their features, though I caught the flicker of something darker lurking behind their eyes.

“What do we do now?”

“Lucian said to take care of her,” Bastian said, a hint of mischief in his tone. “Let’s get her undressed.”

“Careful,” Valen snarled, but there was no bite in his words. Their fingers brushed over my skin and lifted me gently to my feet. The feel of their hands on my body sent jolts of awareness coursing through my muddled senses. There was a gentleness to their touch, and an intimacy that made my heart race despite my fragile state.

An intimacy I had missed.

“Look at you, Avril,” Bastian murmured. His voice was low, almost reverent, and he pressed his lips against the scars on my wrists.

“Watch it, Bastian. This isn’t the time—” Valen said. His brow furrowed as they continued to peel away the layers of delicate fabric that separated me from their gaze. Each tug of my clothing felt like a strip of my defenses dropping away, exposing the vulnerability beneath. I could feel their eyes on me, assessing, unraveling, and I hated how much I craved their approval even now.

Once they freed me from my clothes, they wrapped me in a soft robe and guided me to the bathroom.

I thought I’d heard water.

“Or was it applause?” The grimoire’s whispers had returned, and I bit back a moan.

I didn’t want to think about it.

Didn’t want to think about Clara’s wide blue eyes—

But there they were, staring up at me.

Full of rage and fear.

“No—”

“Come on,” Valen coaxed. “You’ll feel better—”

The bathtub was full and Bastian turned off the tap with a flick of his fingers.

The scent of lavender and salt wafted up from the steaming water, soothing yet strange after the past few hours’ assault on my senses.

Valen dipped his fingers into the water to test its warmth before Bastian guided me closer.

“Come on,” he urged softly, almost tenderly. But as I hesitated, Bastian leaned in and reached around my waist to tug at the belt of my robe. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured. “We’re just trying to help.”

Help.

The last time I’d asked them for help, they’d used me and thrown me on the floor in a naked, sweaty and cum-covered heap.

And while I’d used them in return—and taken slivers of their magic—I wasn’t sure if they’d paid for their crimes.

Not really.

“Fine,” I murmured, and I allowed Bastian to draw the robe away from my body. Valen extended a hand to help me into the tub, and I set my fingers on his palm and stepped into the water. I lowered myself slowly into the tub and let the heat of the water envelop me.

Bastian and Valen watched me—and I couldn’t escape the weight of their eyes—one brimming with playful danger, the other with haunting intensity.

The steam curled around me like a living thing and cloaked the room in cloying warmth as Valen and Bastian leaned closer.

Water glistened on my skin, and an unexpected thrill coursed through me.

My heart raced as something coiled low in my belly.

But something else lurked in the steam—shapes. Shapes that moved and undulated.

My mother—

An image flashed into my mind—the marble tiles streaked with my blood. Smeared with frantic sigils. Blood and salt and bone dust—

An enraged scream pierced my thoughts, and I closed my eyes tightly to blot it out.

“Avril—”

His voice was gentle, and I dared to open my eyes as Valen sank to his knees beside the tub.

“Look at you,” Valen murmured. “You were so strong. They expected you to fail—” His fingers, long and deft, skimmed over my shoulders and sent ripples of sensation cascading across my skin. It was as if he were awakening something dormant within me, a fire that flickered beneath layers of doubt and confusion.

“But you didn’t— You showed them… shocked them all,” Bastian took up a position on the other side of the tub, sinking lazily to the floor. His tone was teasing, but earnest. Disarming. He leaned against the side of the tub and reached out to gently cup my chin and forced me to meet his pale gaze. Bastian’s eyes were so much like his father’s—but they weren’t dead.

Lucian’s stare was all-consuming… terrifying.

But Bastian’s eyes called to something deeper inside me.

“You aren’t as fragile as Lucian thinks,” Bastian murmured.

Their praise felt foreign, both addictive and terrifying, and it twisted my understanding of what strength truly meant.

Valen’s hands moved lower, brushing against my collarbone, and I gasped, startled by how the simple touch sent electricity spiraling through my body. It was wrong—so wrong—but nothing had ever felt so achingly right.

“Let us help you,” Valen urged, his voice low and soothing. “Just trust us.”

Trust.

Each stroke of Bastian’s fingers along my arms soothed the raw edges that had been left behind by what had happened—by what I’d done.

Valen shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the floor. He dipped his hand into the water and brought his fingers to my cheek. I flinched and turned away, but Valen’s warm chuckle stopped me.

“What?” I whispered.

“You have blood on your face,” he murmured. “When you wiped your mouth—”

The memory struck me.

I’d wiped my mouth with my wounded hand without even thinking—

“Oh—”

“Hold still,” he breathed, and I closed my eyes and allowed him to wash the dried blood away.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Bastian continued. He leaned in closer as he ran his fingers through the water and let it cascade over my shoulders in silken waves. “You deserve to feel this.”

Did I?

I had just committed cold-blooded murder.

Ritual murder.

I closed my eyes and surrendered to the sensations. The water lapped at my body, and their touches ignited a fire deep within me, coaxing me to emerge from the shadows of my own insecurities. I began to feel fragments of the girl I used to be flicker to life under their attention.

Bastian’s fingertips trailed lower and dipped beneath the water to tease against the side of my breast and over my nipple—his touch made my breath hitch. “We’re here to help you remember that.”

The warmth of the water enveloped me like a cocoon, soothing my weary body and lulling me into a fragile sense of safety. Valen’s hands glided over my skin with a deliberate grace.

A vision of the red-stained bathroom speared my thoughts, and I jolted up out of the water.

“Avril—” Valen soothed. His hands were gentle on my shoulders. “Relax— we’re here to protect you. You’re safe.”

Was I?

Was I safe?

My stepbrothers were both my solace and my captors, and their praise awakened desires I had tried to bury beneath my quest for freedom—and escape.

Bastian’s hand dipped beneath the water again and his fingers rubbed at my nipples until my mouth fell open with a soft gasp.

Valen’s hand moved down my knee and the soft skin of my thigh and my legs fell apart without any hesitation.

“Please, don’t stop.” The words escaped my lips before I could hold them back.

“Good girl,” Bastian murmured. The pleasure they offered was a double-edged sword I knew would only cut deeper into my psyche—but I needed the release. I needed to feel like myself once again.

Valen’s fingertips traced strange patterns along my inner thigh, dispelling any remnants of my resistance. My breath hitched and my heart pounded against my rib cage as I stared back at him—his eyes glinted with the darkness I longed for. The promise of release. “We’ve got you,” he whispered. His hand slid lower and then stopped just at the apex of my thighs. My pussy ached for his touch, and I moaned at his hesitation.

On the other side, Bastian’s fingers continued their torturous dance on my breasts, the motions sending jolts of electricity through me. He lowered his head to kiss the top of my shoulder, then traced his mouth along the curve of my neck. His lips were soft and warm as they tasted my skin—and each kiss grounded and unraveled me at the same time.

“Valen— please,” I murmured. I reached between my thighs to grab his wrist and guided his hand to my aching slit.

His eyes locked with mine, a silent question lingering. But the earnest need that accompanied my panting breaths was all the consent he needed. He stroked my clit lightly, teasingly at first, while Bastian continued to swirl his fingers over my nipples to send waves of pleasure rippling through me. I stifled a gasp, and fought to keep my eyes open and locked onto Valen’s.

Valen’s voice broke the silence, thick with approval and promise. “That’s it... Don’t be afraid.”

I bit down on my lower lip as he traced my slick folds with his long fingers. His touch was feather-light, but every swipe left me desperate for more. I bucked against his hand and whimpered for him to sink deeper.

Bastian claimed my lips in a hungry kiss as Valen’s fingers pushed inside me, curling to hit places that made me gasp into Bastian’s mouth.

I tugged on his wrist, urging him deeper, harder—and he complied with a warm chuckle.

Bastian’s hand left my breasts and snaked down my stomach toward my clit. He rubbed gently at first, slow circles that made me gasp and my back arch. Valen exchanged a smile with his brother as my legs fell open wider to allow Valen better access to my cunt.

Slowly at first, Valen added a third finger… just the tip at first, then more, allowing my body to adjust to the stretch of my tender flesh. Then a fourth.

“Oh—” my mouth fell open.

Bastian lifted his other hand, and through the haze of my lust, I recognized the creep of his smokey magic as it brushed over my skin and wrapped around my throat. Its grip was gentle—just enough to prevent me from taking a full breath.

My climax didn’t build slowly—it writhed and coiled in my belly like a living thing as I gasped.

Water lapped at the sides of the tub as my stepbrothers fucked me—Valen with long, slow strokes of his hand and Bastian with relentless pressure on my clit and my throat. Squeeze—release—squeeze—release.

Fuck.

My breath came in quick gasps, my climax driven higher by their movements. Valen’s fingers curled inside me and pressed against a spot that made me cry out as my body clenched.

“Come for us, Avril,” Valen murmured. His fingers moved faster, savagely pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

Bastian’s hand strummed my clit in rhythm with Valen’s thrusts.

“Come for us,” Bastian echoed. His voice was breathless—rough and possessive with lust.

“Gods—”

My climax broke over me without warning and I gripped the edge of the tub and Valen’s forearm as the world blurred and focused. Every inch of my skin was alive with pleasure and pain and everything in between.

Luscious.

Thrilling.

Forbidden.

Bastian’s magic released its hold on my throat and I took a ragged breath as my stepbrothers soothed me. Valen eased his fingers from my pussy and I moaned at the loss of fullness—I wanted to beg him to fill me with his cock… but exhaustion tugged at my limbs as I lay back in the water.

“Good girl,” Bastian murmured.

“Mmm,” was all I could manage.

I wanted to swear at them—curse them—or thank them.

I didn’t know which they deserved more.

Probably all three.

I let out a contented sigh.

The whispers in my mind were finally quiet—an indistinct murmur beneath the thunder of my ebbing climax.

“Stay here,” Valen said. “Relax— We’ll be back.”

I nodded, but couldn’t find any words. Valen and Bastian rose, and I bit back a smile as I noticed Bastian adjust his jeans.

They were both hard.

They both wanted to fuck me.

“Soon,” the whispers in my mind assured me, but even they sounded lazy and sluggish.

I sank down in the water and let it envelop me fully.

Soon.