Page 8 of Cursed (Wicked Heirs #2)

“Wait—”

Her voice was plaintive.

Desperate.

Perfect.

I turned slowly and leaned against the door frame.

She was a terrible liar.

She’d opened the book—that much was clear.

And whatever she’d done had weakened the sigils that had been cast over her door.

Not so protected anymore, little sister…

But she didn’t seem to care about anything but the book.

Good.

“What?” I asked casually.

“I—” she hesitated. Eyes wide. Her soot-stained fingers twisted together as she rose up on her knees. The charcoal-streaked bathrobe she wore gaped just a little and allowed me a tantalizing glimpse of the smooth skin of her thigh. “I need your help,” she choked out.

“To what?”

I was playing with her, and I could see the frustration in her expression. She wanted to scream at me and slam the door in my face.

But she needed my help if she was going to open that book.

I couldn’t help her understand it—she had to figure that out on her own.

Just like we all had.

She flinched beneath my gaze, a tremor threading through her voice as she replied, “I—I don’t know anything about the grimoire—” Her attempt at composure faltered, revealing the cracks in her facade. “Can you— do you know how to open it?”

I sauntered back into the room and gestured vaguely at the door. It swung closed with a thud that echoed in the room and I felt a tiny thrill as Avril flinched.

“What if I do?” I asked. “How long have you been trying to figure it out?”

A glance at her disheveled hair, tangled and unkempt, confirmed my suspicions. Had she even bothered to eat or shower during this fruitless endeavor? A faint trace of guilt flickered within me, but it was quickly snuffed out by my curiosity.

Her gaze tore away from mine. “I— I don’t know—”

“Days spent deciphering its pages, and yet here you stand, empty-handed,” I taunted and relished the way her shoulders tensed under my scrutiny.

“Days—” She seemed confused, but then she shook her head. “No— I only— It’s only been a few hours—”

I watched as her eyes flickered toward the grimoire still lying on the floor.

It really had taken hold of her.

I snorted. “Have you looked at yourself? It looks like you’ve been rolling around in a fire pit. Don’t tell me you tried to burn it.”

Her vulnerability stirred something deep within me— desire mixed with a twisted sort of satisfaction. Avril was out of her depth, and it was devilishly entertaining to watch her squirm.

She rose to her feet and stumbled toward the vanity. She let out an audible gasp as she caught sight of her reflection and she rubbed at a smear of charcoal on her cheek. “Shit— I’m a mess…”

“Yeah, just a bit,” I chuckled. “You should take a shower.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“And you’ll just— watch me?”

I didn’t reply. Of course I’d be watching.

She glared at me in the mirror and I shrugged. “That’s my price.”

Her lip curled, but I could see something else in her eyes, too. Lust.

She hadn’t forgotten what we’d shared.

Neither had I.

I couldn’t seem to escape it.

“In exchange for your help?”

I shrugged. “Seems fair.”

Avril grasped the edges of her ruined bathrobe and pulled them tight over her chest, as if that could shield her from the inevitable. “And if I refuse?”

I grinned at her. “Then you’re on your own with daddy’s book of tricks. How long do you think it’ll be before he asks you to show him what you’ve learned?” I waited as I allowed her to ponder that. “And what do you think he’ll do when you have nothing to show for it?”

Her flush deepened, and she stubbornly lifted her chin. “Fine,” she muttered as she turned away from me and stomped toward the bathroom.

I strolled after her, paying no mind to the clothes and dirty plates that littered the floor of her room.

The magic she’d unleashed from the grimoire had weakened the spells on her door—but they had been enough to keep Lucian’s spies at bay, too? Or had he abandoned her to the grimoire’s power on purpose?

“Don’t think this changes anything, Bastian,” Avril shot back over her shoulder as she reached into the shower to turn on the water. She was trying to sound strong, but there was a tremor in her voice and her hand shook just a little.

Ah, sweet sister... It changes everything.

I leaned on the doorframe, one hand casually playing with a loose thread on my shirt cuff. “And what would that be?” I asked, my tone laced with faux innocence. But my gaze wasn’t innocent at all as it traced down the curve of her shoulder, where it disappeared into the robe that was barely clinging to her body.

“That we’re... that we’re just—”

“What?” I interjected. A wicked thrill shivered under my skin.

The taboo of it all only made it more exhilarating.

But was it really? Julia had barely been in the house long enough to consider her a part of the family…

Avril’s face twisted in distaste, and anger sparked in her hazel eyes as she spat, “You’re my step-brother!”

“And yet…” I drawled, my gaze drifting down once more, lingering over the slight swell of her breast visible from her undone robe before meeting her heated stare again. I tilted my chin at the shower. “Don’t waste the water.”

Avril’s lips pressed into a thin line and her hands hovered at the belt of her robe. “Turn around!”

I chuckled and didn’t move. “I don’t think so.”

“Turn. Around!”

“If I turn around, I’m leaving—”

Panic flashed across her face, and her jaw tightened. “Fine,” she growled.

“Good girl.”

Her hand shook as she untied the knot in the belt, and I kept my eyes on her as it dropped to the tile floor. She turned, and I snapped my fingers.

She froze.

“Ah, ah— no cheating.”

Her eyes burned with hatred and shame as she peeled the robe from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She was braless, and my tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth as I traced the sweet curve of her breasts with my eyes.

Gods, I wanted to taste her.

She kicked the robe away and hooked her thumbs into the edge of her filmy panties. Shame—and something else—flushed her cheeks as she pulled her panties down over her hips and thighs.

I watched as her body trembled beneath my gaze, and the way she bit down on her full bottom lip. Then, in one swift move, she kicked her panties at me, turned around, flipped me off, and jumped into the shower.

Steam covered the glass door, obscuring her from view, but I could still make out her tantalizing silhouette through the fogging glass.

“Fuck you, Bastian.” Her voice was muffled by the running water, but her tone was filled with anger.

I smirked. “That’s the idea, darling.”

“I bet it is,” she muttered, “you sick fuck.”

Her words didn’t bother me; I’d been called worse by better.

Instead, I took a moment to appreciate the tantalizing view in front of me.

My magic surged in my chest, and my cock responded. I’d missed watching her through her mirrors— Valen had laughed at me when she’d discovered what was happening and covered them. And I hadn’t been able to get through the sigils over her door since she’d moved into this suite… But that had been passive… easy voyeurism. This was different.

Dark gray smoke curled around my fingers and I smiled as it flowed down over the tiles and into the shower.

Avril let out a yelp as it curled around her leg and I could feel the firmness of her calf against my palm as my magic wound across her wet flesh.

“Hey! Stop that!”

“Do you want me to leave?” I called out. “I can leave—”

The tendrils of my magic crept higher, caressing and kneading as I flexed my fingers.

Avril let out a low moan I was sure she didn’t want me to hear. “N— No…”

“Good,” I murmured.

Feeling the shiver of her body through the shadowy tendrils of my power made my heart race, and I fought against the urge to join her in the shower. But, no... this was far more fun. My eyes slid closed as I concentrated on memorizing every inch of her skin. The way she gasped and jerked as my magic lashed over sensitive areas. The way she squirmed and writhed under its touch.

“Mmm... You’ve missed me, haven’t you, Avril?” I murmured, my words dripping with a sultry promise that hung heavily in the steam-filled air.

A choked cry reached my ears and Avril’s palm pressed against the glass as my magic slid against her slick flesh.

More.

I could hear her begging.

“Yes...,” she gasped out, her voice barely louder than the splash of water against the tile.

My chuckle echoed in the room and bounced off the cold marble walls. My magic thrummed with power as it explored the secret curves of her body, and every goosebump that raised on her skin under its touch sent a jolt through me.

My body ached with want, and I resisted the urge to rip off my clothes and fuck her myself.

This was better.

This was control.

This was her responding to my magic alone.

“You want more?” I murmured. The question was rhetorical— I could feel her need radiating off of her like heat from an ember.

“Yes…,” she whispered again. Her voice was shaky and raw and her head fell back against the glass wall of the shower.

“All you had to do was ask.” A smug smile spread across my face as I increased the pressure of my magic.

Her breath caught as she fought to stay silent, but she failed miserably when my magic dove lower.

“You like that, don’t you, little sister?”

Avril didn’t answer with anything more than a groan that echoed off the bathroom’s marble walls and filled the steamy air as she arched into my magic’s touch.

My cock strained against my jeans as I lost myself in this perverse game. My self-control waned with every stroke of my enchantment over the sweet expanse of Avril’s flushed skin. My magic thrust inside her, delving deep even as tendrils of that dark smoke wrapped around her throat and cut off her breath— just enough.

“Bastian…” Avril’s voice gasped out my name, swollen with need and edged with the sweetest desperation.

“You’re so good for me, Avril.” I murmured, and I knew she heard me. My magic responded to her keening cries and pulsed in rhythm with the wild beat of her heart.

Her hands flew up to claw at the ethereal chains coiled around her throat. It was a futile effort, but it spurred me on, nonetheless.

“That’s it, struggle. Fight it.” I could hardly contain the shudder that rippled through me as beneath the onslaught of my magic. She writhed and wriggled like a pinned butterfly.

No words came from her then; only ragged gasps and broken cries as my magic played her body like a fine-tuned instrument. The raw symphony of Avril’s pleasure soon drowned out the sound of running water that echoed through the tiled bathroom.

I drew out every gasp, every moan she tried to swallow down, fed on each whimper that slipped past her desperate lips until I could hardly stand it. The sight of her hunched form clinging helplessly to the glass was driving me to madness.

“You need this so much, don’t you?” I didn’t wait for her answer. Not that she could give one between desperate gasps and weak whimpers.

Then I flicked my wrist sharply and my magic surged forward in a heavy wave. Avril cried out, her whole body stiffening before trembling violently as ecstasy claimed her completely.

“There—” I murmured, husky from my own unfulfilled arousal. As the rush of her high began to ebb and Avril straightened and leaned against the tiles, I reeled my magic back in. It swirled around my fingers like a pet serpent before dissipating into the thick steam of the bathroom. My body screamed its protest, yearning for release as well, but the game was only half-played.

Avril was panting hard now and her breath hitched in sputtering gasps, and I knew she was still riding on the aftershocks of her climax. I let her recover for a bit, observing how she clung to the cool glass for support while her body trembled from the strength of her apex.

She must have been able to hear my chuckle, and Avril twisted her head toward me. Her pale hazel eyes burned into mine through the steam-smeared pane. Anger and pleasure mixed seamlessly in them.

“Hurry up,” I called out. “I’ve got things to do.”

I walked out of the bathroom and ignored Avril’s furious growl.

The grimoire lay on the floor, locked tight.

If she’d opened it, it had been by accident. I knew that much for sure.

I walked around it and then crouched down.

I remembered the day Lucian had laid the grimoire in front of me—and how long it had taken me to open it.

The torment I’d endured.

The torment we’d all endured to discover its secrets.

But why had he given it to her ?

The rush of the shower snapped off, and I plucked the book gently off the floor, straightened, and held it gently in my hands.

“What are you doing?” Avril’s voice held an edge of accusation, but I didn’t look at her as I turned toward her vanity.

“Get dressed,” I said. “Hurry—”

She muttered a curse, and I couldn’t help but smile at her anger.

She really was pathetic.

It was part of her allure.

Part of what drew us to her.

She dashed by me, wrapped in a towel, and I paused long enough to watch her dart into the closet. She was only in there for a moment, but her frustrated grunts as she dressed were highly amusing.

When Avril emerged, I couldn’t help staring.

The cashmere sweater dress she’d chosen slipped off one shoulder, and her legs were bare. I was supposed to focus on a grimoire filled with incredibly dangerous magic—while she was barely dressed?

Fuck.

I might have bent this book to my will once before—but it was years ago, and as I laid my hand on the cover and felt its familiarly malevolent vibration, I sensed immediately that I wouldn’t be able to control it. It had forgotten me—and grown stronger—in the years since I’d seen it last.

“What?” she snapped.

“Nothing,” I replied and then gestured at the vanity. “Clear it off. Get all that shit out of the way.”

Without hesitation, Avril snatched the waste basket off the floor and pushed everything on the surface into it. Her cheeks were flushed, and a few tendrils of auburn hair had escaped the haphazard knot on the top of her head and clung to her cheeks and forehead.

She dropped the basket to the floor and I let out a chuckle as the expensive perfumes and lotions clacked together.

I set the grimoire on the vanity and stepped away to give her space. “Sit.”

Avril eyed me warily and then slid into the chair. She placed her hands flat on the surface of the vanity and stared at the grimoire intently.

“Now what?”

“Open it,” I said.

She frowned and glared up at me. “I don’t know how.”

“Don’t you?”

“Bastian— this isn’t helping—”

I moved closer and Avril sucked in a breath as I reached over her shoulder. Gods, she was so easy…

“Look closer.”

I slid my fingers down the spine of the book and paused.

She hadn’t found it.

The moment I pulled the knife from the spine of the Bloodstone Grimoire, a shiver seemed to run through the room, and it prickled over my skin the same way it had when the grimoire had first come into my hands.

Avril’s eyes widened in horror as she stared at the dark silver blade. She clutched the edges of the desk, her knuckles paling beneath the strain. “Bastian, don’t!”

Her voice trembled—she was afraid.

Good. This book shouldn’t be approached with anything less.

“Shhh,” I said, and I smiled as I pressed the shining edge against the side of my hand. The metal bit into flesh, and I relished the sharp sting of it. Blood welled up, glistening crimson, and dripped down over the clasp.

As my blood seeped into the dark metal, the air thickened around us, swirling with an energy that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I could almost taste the magic as it coiled through the atmosphere, dark and toxic. The whispers of the book stirred, and an echo of forgotten voices seemed to rise from the depths of its binding—hungry, yearning.

“Stop!” Avril gasped, but there was a fascination lurking in her pale hazel eyes.

I wanted her captivated. She was far too innocent for this world, yet here she was, drawn to the darkness—

She let out a choked cry as the clasp burst open and the book opened with a strange force.

Maybe it did remember me—

“How—”

The pages flipped, turned by an unseen hand, until it stopped. The room filled with whispers and I closed my eyes as I tried to steady my breathing.

“This— this is what happened to me,” she murmured. “I cut my finger… and the book opened… Can you read these symbols? I can’t read them.”

“You’re not supposed to read these ones,” I said.

I pulled the blade away from my wound and allowed my blood to drop onto the pages.

As my blood soaked into the stained parchment, something began to shift—the red-brown ink shimmered, and lines of arcane script unfurled like serpents. As the text shifted, new symbols emerged and glowed faintly with an eerie light.

I leaned closer and watched the transformation with a twisted satisfaction, knowing I had awakened something powerful and wicked—but it wouldn’t last long. The book had already gorged on my blood—years ago—it would tire of the familiar taste quickly.

It wanted someone new.

But it was just as thrilling to see the grimoire’s actual face unveiled now as it had been when I’d first discovered the true magic of those ancient pages.

“Every secret comes with a price,” I said. “But the darkness is patient… and it always keeps its promises.”

The air around us pulsed, heavy with the weight of dark magic, as I leaned closer to her. The faint glow of the grimoire illuminated Avril’s face and carved her delicate features into sharp angles. I couldn’t help but relish the conflict that twisted in her eyes.

She likes it.

She was perfect—teetering on the edge of the abyss.

I pushed my face close to hers, intent on capturing her slightly parted lips in the kiss I’d wanted to take from her since the moment I stepped into the room, but she let out a sharp cry and pushed me away.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Don’t you want my help?”

“You got what you wanted,” she said petulantly, but I could feel her lust blooming just below the surface, hidden by indignation. But it was a thin veneer.

I laid the dagger down on the vanity, and Avril flinched at the sight of my blood on the blade.

I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and wrapped it around my hand to staunch the wound I’d made.

“Did I?” I countered as I took the end of the handkerchief in my teeth and pulled a knot tight against the side of my hand. “Good luck, Avril— you’ll need it.”

“Where are you going?” she demanded, and she spun in her chair as I strode toward the door. “Bastian! Bastian, wait! The symbols— they’re fading! Come back here!”

I smiled at the desperation in her voice. “You know how to bring them back, little bird,” I said. “Just— don’t get too eager. The grimoire is a hungry beast.”

I didn’t wait for her to argue.

She’d already begged me to return once.

And she would beg for my help again.

As the door opened to allow me to step over the threshold, the shadows seemed to stretch toward me, eager to envelop their master.

“Bastian—”

With a flick of my fingers, the door slammed shut and muffled her plea for help.

With a purposeful stride, I descended the stairs and paused just once to look back at Avril’s door before continuing on.

I knew I should talk to Titus.

Why had Lucian given Avril the grimoire?

It was a sign— but a sign of what I couldn’t be certain.

Perhaps it was an omen of power shifting within our family— What if Titus was right?

Maybe Lucian did intend to replace us.