Page 30 of Cursed (Wicked Heirs #2)

The water swirled around me, and I tried to imagine that its warmth could seep down into my bones and wash away everything that had happened.

But as I emerged from the haze of my climax and the water chilled—I knew I couldn’t escape it.

Valen, Bastian, and Titus were in my bedroom—I could hear their low voices as they talked… or were they arguing?

I was still vulnerable.

Now that I had shown Lucian that I had mastered the spells in the grimoire, what would stop him from claiming me as his bride?

And how long would I live after the wedding night?

I’d thought that he had wanted me for my innocence.

But when his pursuit didn’t end after my stepbrothers had proven to him how wantonly I’d sought them out—and how eagerly I’d submitted to them—I knew there was something more.

I’d been trying not to think about it.

The reality was too horrifying.

But I couldn’t hide from it any longer.

Not after what had happened tonight.

With a groan, I dragged myself out of the bath and wrapped my body in a fluffy towel.

Someone had hung my robe on a hook, and the mirrors were clear.

The lotions, oils, and perfumes were arranged carefully on the counter, as always.

I deserved all of this.

I used to believe that.

I walked toward the mirrors and braced my hands on the marble counter. My reflection was strange— was it still me?

There were no shadows in the mirror, not this time.

My skin was smooth and unblemished—except for the scars on my wrists, the sides of my hands, my forearms—my thighs…

I had given so much to that cursed book.

The grimoire’s whispers rose in my mind. Taunting me. “Cursed— If I am cursed, then we are cursed.”

“Yes— we are cursed,” I said.

I stared into my reflection’s eyes—were they paler? More green? I couldn’t tell…

A shadow moved behind my eyes and I let out a cry as I jerked back from the mirror.

Impossible.

The whispers in my mind sounded like laughter.

“Shut up,” I hissed.

I leaned forward to look into the mirror again.

Closer. I held my breath and waited.

But there was nothing in my eyes.

No shadow.

But they did seem a little paler.

I tapped my fingertip against the reflection, entranced by the change in my appearance. There was something strange in my gaze now, a lingering darkness that hadn’t been there before.

You did this, I accused the grimoire’s whispers

The whispers cooed softly, as if agreeing with me.

A rap on the door snapped me back to reality, and I clutched at my robe as the door creaked open.

“Avril.”

Valen stood in the doorway. “We thought you’d never get out of the tub.” His sardonic smile snatched at his lips, while unmistakable desire flickered within his dark eyes. His tattoos twisted from beneath his shirt and crawled down his arms. Was it my imagination—or were they moving and shifting in the light?

“I— Was just about to get dressed.” I stuttered unintentionally, and a ripple of amusement stirred within him.

“Too bad,” he said. He came closer and his hand grazed the length of my arm down to my hand. “We’re waiting for you.”

Electric jolts ignited my skin, and I swallowed hard. His touch was addictively torturous, and my pussy throbbed.

“Waiting— for me?”

He nodded.

“Take your time, but Titus is back—and we need to talk.”

The way he said it—the grim set of his mouth, the tension in his clenched jaw—I knew there was no escaping this.

But what did they want to talk about?

Had they discovered what I had done? That I had stolen from them—

What would they do?

I nodded to hide my fear, and for once my voice was steady. “Alright, I’ll be right out.”

Valen gave a last glance at me. Something unspoken glittered in those dark depths before he stepped out and closed the door. The silence descended heavily, and my heartbeat echoed ominously in my ears. The whispering in my mind became louder—feeding into my apprehension.

With a sigh, I threw off my robe and slipped into a filmy black silk négligée that had been hung on the back of the door— were they choosing my clothes now, too?

I pressed my ear against the door to listen to the conversation happening without me.

“We need to keep our emotions in check,” that was Valen—his voice strained, “Lucian...”

“He doesn’t call the shots here,” Bastian cut him off mid-sentence. “If we’re going to do this...we need to do it now.”

“We can’t just rush into this!” Titus snapped. “You two will get us all killed—”

It felt like I was about to walk into a lion’s den.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The Romano brothers stood in a semi-circle, arms crossed over their chests… They stopped mid-sentence and looked over at me.

Lust was clear in Bastian’s eyes— In all of their eyes.

I forced a smile onto my face. “Don’t let me interrupt,” I said.

Bastian was the first to break their compacted, dark circle of silence. He stalked towards me, his golden hair ruffling in the cool air. He brushed a strand of hair off my flushed cheek before trailing his knuckles down my arm. “You never could,” he murmured.

His words conjured a flutter in my chest as he took my hand and led me toward the velvet chaise set near the window.

The site of our last tryst…

Titus and Valen stepped aside to allow us to pass. As I settled myself on the edge of the cushion, Titus crossed his arms over his chest and his dark stare trapped me.

“We were just discussing our father,” he said dryly. His gaze trailed over my collarbone and down—before lingering on the tops of my breasts far longer than necessary.

“Lucian...” I breathed. An icy knot formed in my stomach at the mention of him.

Valen positioned himself beside me; ever inscrutable, ever magnetic. His dark eyes bored into mine, seeking secrets I had to suppress even at that moment. His brows furrowed and his lips twitched as though he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. He simply nodded.

“What about him?” I ventured.

“He’s too powerful,” Bastian blurted out.

Titus let out a frustrated breath.

“What?” Bastian protested. “We need her help. We can’t just—sit here!”

I glanced at Valen. “My help?”

Titus glared at Bastian, who threw up his hands in disbelief.

“If Lucian’s power remains unchecked, the consequences will be catastrophic,” Titus said stiffly. “Not just for us, but for every soul tethered to his dark ambition.”

“He wants control of all of Messana,” Valen said.

“All— All of it?” I murmured. My mind raced back to the whispers of the Bloodstone Grimoire, and the lingering dread that accompanied its presence. Would my stepbrothers be any better than Lucian? Would they protect me?

“Protect you from what?”

The thought clawed at my insides.

Tears pricked at my lashes and I blinked them away. I was suddenly cold—I wished I’d put on my robe. I was so exposed—the luxurious fabric of the négligée was so thin. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing more than your freedom,” Valen said. His voice was earnest, and I wanted to believe him… But there was something else in his tone—something I couldn’t quite decipher. “You’ve suffered enough—”

“Freedom,” I repeated, but the word tasted like ashes in my mouth.

What kind of freedom could they offer me?

Something flared in my chest. “How do I know this isn’t another trap? That you won’t just use me again and then abandon me?” Titus opened his mouth, but I held up a hand to silence him. To my surprise, pale violet smoke wreathed around my hand and snaked around my fingers. My magic—stolen magic. I’d never been able to do that before—without even trying. I gazed at my fingers in surprise for just a moment and then focused on Titus again. “If the next words that come out of your mouth are: ‘you’ll have to trust us—’ then you can get the fuck out of my room and fend for your goddamn selves.”

Bastian laughed.

“Bet you didn’t expect that,” he crowed. He pulled back the curtains that covered my window with a flourish and fell down onto the window seat. The unsettling grin on his face sent shivers down my spine.

Titus, however, looked infuriated, and his icy demeanor cracked ever so slightly, but he sucked in a breath and stood taller than before.

“Do you think we want to remain under his thumb?” Bastian interjected. “We’re bound by blood, yes, but we’re shackled by his tyranny, too. You’re not alone—”

“How do I know you won’t turn on me?” I pressed.

“Because we need you,” Titus replied. His tone shifted and revealed a sliver of sincerity. “We are all bound to a destiny we cannot escape alone. If we don’t act soon...” His voice trailed off, but instead of intrigue, only anger thrummed in my veins.

“Then what?” I challenged. “What if I agree and you betray me? What then?”

“Then you’ll have lost nothing,” Valen answered.

“Except my life,” I snapped. “If we try to stand against Lucian and fail— Do you really think he’ll let any of us survive?”

But if they lied—if they blamed it all on me— I would lose everything and they would be spared.

If that was what they offered, I would have to make sure that if we did fail—no one could walk away unscathed.

Every heartbeat was like a countdown. I needed to make a choice, but the fear of betrayal twisted in my gut like a knife.

“I want your word,” I said.

Titus’ eyebrow rose. “What?”

“Your word.”

I jumped up from the chaise and pushed past Titus to where the Bloodstone Grimoire lay on my vanity. The blackened silver dagger was nestled in the spine of the ancient book, and I pulled it free with deft fingers.

It was light in my palm.

Lighter than the polished stone blade I had wielded in the catacombs.

I approached the chaise with the dagger raised.

“Your word,” I repeated.

Valen’s eyes widened as he looked at his brothers.

“You— you can’t be serious,” Bastian choked out as he sat up straight.

Valen extended his arm. “A blood vow,” he said.

“Valen—” Titus’ voice was thick with warning, but I didn’t have time to wait.

“Not just any vow,” I said. “Crimson Veil.”

Titus recoiled, and Bastian let out a choked honk as he jumped up from the window seat.

“Do you know what you’re asking? Does she know what she’s asking?” Bastian cried.

“I think she does,” Valen said.

Blood vows were unbreakable, set in stone and flesh, binding all parties involved until death or fulfillment of the vow—but this one—this one guaranteed death if the vow was broken. It was not something to be taken lightly.

“If you don’t intend to betray me, it shouldn’t be a problem,” I said casually.

Bastian continued to splutter incoherently, his hair a golden halo around his head in the gloomy light of my elegant bedroom. Titus glanced between us all, his expression unreadable.

“Avril— How… How do you even know about this spell? The Crimson Veil isn’t… it’s not something entered into lightly.”

Valen didn’t flinch.

I stepped forward until the glinting edge of the dagger was inches away from Valen’s arm. His dark eyes never left mine, and I held his gaze defiantly as I answered Titus. “I’m well aware,” I said.

I knew a moment like this wouldn’t come again, and I needed this assurance. I needed them bound to me, unable to betray or abandon me as everyone else had done before—as they had done so easily.

“You’re all insane,” Bastian shouted.

Titus didn’t respond, but he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to expose his arm and held it out to me.

Bastian let out a furious groan. “Fine! But if anything happens, I’m coming back to haunt all of you, and I won’t be cute about it.”

He ripped off his jacket, threw it on the floor, and stomped over to us. His pale eyes burned into mine as he pushed up his sleeve. “Do it, stop fucking around.”

I teetered on the edge of the decision as I stared down at the three extended, willing arms.

“This is what you wanted,” the grimoire whispered. “Bind them—use them.”

I took a breath and forced my shaking hand to guide the dagger’s edge to Valen’s arm first. His skin was warm under my fingers and as I pressed down. He flinched, but he didn’t pull away.

I cut across his flesh—a quick but deep incision. Blood welled up from the wound almost instantly, a crimson river that coursed down his arm. His breath hissed between his teeth, but he said nothing.

“By blood we seal, by shadow sworn,” I intoned.

Titus remained cool and impassive—he had probably executed many of these spells himself. He didn’t flinch as the blade cut into his flesh.

“Bound in flesh, a pact is born.”

Last was Bastian— Despite his protests, his pulse thrummed beneath my fingers—fast and scared. My hand trembled and Bastian watched my movements with clenched teeth. With a swift, fierce movement, I sliced into his arm. He let out a furious breath and flexed his fingers as blood welled up and dripped down his arm.

“Break this vow, and life shall sever,” I murmured and drew the blade across my palm. “Promise me— promise me you won’t betray me.”

“I promise,” Valen was first.

Titus next. “I promise.”

Bastian let out a grunt.

“Out loud,” Titus growled.

“I promise—but you’re all fucking insane,” Bastian said through gritted teeth.

It was enough. A burning heat spread through my arm and I tried not to gasp as I laid my wounded hand over each of the cuts I had made. “Dust to bone, bound together.”

“You said cursed wrong,” Bastian quipped. “Are we done here?”

Power coursed through me, and I could feel the connection between us.

Now I was sure I could trust them—they wouldn’t be foolish enough to break their promise to me. Not again.

Not if it meant their own lives would be forfeit.

They were assholes, but they weren’t stupid.

“We are,” I said. I flexed my hand and watched in awe as the wound closed over. My palm was smooth and unblemished, with only a faint purple line visible where I’d made the cut. Blood still covered my hand, but that would wash away. Valen, Titus, and Bastian all looked down at their arms as their cuts sealed over, too.

“Bullshit,” Bastian muttered. “Now there’s blood on the floor.”

I shrugged. “Clean it up if you don’t like it.”

Bastian made a face, and Titus pushed past him to walk across the room to the bathroom. Water splashed into the sink and I smiled as I heard his muttered curses. I was in control now.

Me.

Not so long ago, all of this would have been impossible.

The power I’d taken from Clara surged through me—and the sensation of it twining around the magic already in my veins pushed aside the guilt that had crippled me.

It was unsettling and electrifying… this fresh surge of power. I flexed my fingers and felt the magic shift inside me.

Delicious.

“Can we talk about this now?” Valen asked.

“About what?” Bastian snarled. He paced the room like a caged animal and I could feel the anger radiating off him.

Had he planned to betray me? After everything he had said? Was that why he was so agitated?

Valen watched his younger brother with suspicious eyes and then glanced up as Titus strode back into the room.

“We need to talk,” Titus said. “But not yet. Plans are… difficult.”

“Why?” I demanded. “Why are they difficult? We need to find a way to take Lucian down—”

“It’s not that simple,” Titus snarled. “We have to be cautious.”

“But we have an advantage now,” Valen said. “He won’t expect us to come at him together.”

“Valen’s right,” I said and forced myself to meet Titus’s icy glare. “We don’t have the luxury of time. We have to act. Now.”

Titus was silent for a moment as he assessed me, before he finally nodded. Bastian rolled his eyes but didn’t speak.

“Fine,” the eldest Romano brother said, his tone frigid.

Before anyone could say more, Bastian stiffened.

“What now?” Valen asked, clearly irritated at his brother’s antics.

“He’s back,” Bastian said flatly. “We have to— we have to go.”

He let out a growl of frustration, grabbed his jacket off the floor, and strode across the room to the door. He paused briefly to look back at me, and then wrenched the door open and swept out of the room. Valen gripped my hand and squeezed it briefly before he followed Bastian.

Only Titus and I remained. He stepped closer and his hand fell heavily on my hip.

“We’re bound together now,” he said, and his dark eyes held me captive. “By more than just magic—”

I wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t. The heat of his body pressed against mine was addictive—I craved him. All of them. The ornate carved handle of the grimoire’s dagger bit into my palm as my grip tightened.

“Are we?”

His other hand dragged down the side of my face and he pulled me closer. I thought he was going to kiss me—I wanted him to kiss me. His lips were inches from mine and I wanted desperately to be claimed— But he didn’t close the distance. His fingers tightened on my hip. “Don’t do anything reckless,” he growled.

“How could I?” I teased. “You’re leaving…”

He let out a grunt, and I tried not to smile as his cock twitched against my stomach. If I wanted him—I could have him. In a second. But not now. Without another word, he released me from his grip and strode across the room to the door.

He paused, but only for a moment. “Re-set these sigils,” he said and gestured to the burnt marks on the doorframe where I’d destroyed my own protective barrier. “You’re going to need them.”

The ominous hum of our blood vow reverberated through my veins and filled me with a strange energy.

I was barely dressed, and I should have been cold, but I wasn’t. I paced the room, stepping over the small pool of blood that had dripped onto the floor near the chaise. I’d clean it up later—or cover it with another rug.

The grimoire lay open on the vanity, and the blackened silver dagger was still in my hand. The blood-drawn symbols on the grimoire’s pages pulsated ominously in response to our recent ritual. But I hadn’t opened the book—and I hadn’t turned the pages.

“We did,” the grimoire whispered. “Your power is growing—”

I sank down into the vanity chair and set the dagger beside the grimoire. As I stared down at the ancient pages, an idea began to form—a wild idea that could either save us or destroy us utterly. But it might just be crazy enough to work.

I’d stolen power from my stepbrothers— And from Clara; why not steal Lucian’s?

As the idea flashed through me, the grimoire pulsed in response. Its dark hum filled my every nerve, and its presence scratched at my thoughts.

“I like this plan.” Its unsettling voice echoed inside my mind.

I felt a shudder ripple through me as the grimoire agreed with my twisted logic.

Fear gnawed at me as I considered what taking Lucian’s power could mean, and yet, there was a burning excitement within that threatened to consume my better judgement—wouldn’t it be a fitting revenge?

“Justice,” the grimoire hissed.

I stood abruptly and moved toward the thick window. The night outside was dark and foreboding and the ever-present storm clouds that crouched over the estate were fat with rain—

Still, as I looked beyond its menacing shadows, I saw the glimmering heart of Messana—pulsating with life. But the lights of the city filled me with dread. Not hope. Lucian’s influence had seeped into every corner of that city. And he wanted more.

If I failed...

No, I couldn’t afford to think of failure.

Justice.

Justice for my father… For the life that had been forcibly stolen from me... Justice for my mother—

And justice for all those who had fallen under Lucian Romano’s malevolent shadow.

The grimoire’s whispers echoed louder in my mind—a chorus of voices both seductive and alarming.

I couldn’t deny it. This idea—that was undoubtedly as dangerous as it was audacious—held a magnetic allure that was impossible to resist.

There was no other way.

If I wanted to save myself—

I walked back to the vanity and sat down in front of the grimoire again and smiled to see that its dark pages now perfectly reflected my monstrous intent.

For a long moment, I sat still—contemplating, calculating. The eerie silence was broken only by the grimoire’s voice in my mind as it wove pictures of power and authority into my thoughts, images of me standing atop Lucian’s ruined empire with blood-soaked hands and powerful magic at my fingertips.

Freedom.

Yes... This could work.

TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 3 OF THE WICKED HEIRS SERIES: OWNED