Page 8 of Spicy Little Curses (Scared Sexy Collection #3)

Seven

Petra

Masquerade of the Damned

T his time, the dreams weren’t only about devouring ink.

They came in distorted flashes, like old film reels unraveling in my head.

A crumbling tomb in the middle of a cemetery.

A woman in white with eyes like mine, tracing symbols in the air, her lips moving in silence.

A mirror, cracked down the middle, reflecting the past and the future on opposite sides.

A ghostly whisper in my ear, “ One must be lost for the other to be free. ”

And Dax. So many visions of Dax.

In most of them, he was naked and thrusting between my spread thighs.

I woke with a start, my legs tangled in the sheets and my heart pounding.

Dax was already awake. Sitting up in the chair by the window, he watched me closely.

“You were talking in your sleep. Something about being lost.”

Remembering the strange dream whisper, I swallowed and averted my gaze. “Really? That’s weird.”

I felt him studying me with narrowed eyes, so I forced a smile and threw the covers off, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “Let’s find you some clothes. Then let’s go look for Celeste Leclair.”

He held my gaze for a long moment, looking as if he were about to say something, then nodded. “There’s a clothing boutique downstairs. You order up some food, and I’ll go see if they have anything that fits me.”

As it turned out, the boutique had Dax’s size. Either that or he’d mugged a giant in the lobby and stolen his shoes, shirt, and jacket. In any case, he reappeared fully clothed, and we quickly ate breakfast.

Then we spent the day searching for Celeste Leclair.

Dax led me through the winding backstreets of the Quarter, knocking on doors, talking to people who barely opened them, slipping cash into palms for hushed conversations. It became clear that Celeste wasn’t just elusive. She was practically a ghost.

“She moves around a lot,” he explained as we left yet another dead-end lead.

Still unsettled by my dreams, I muttered, “Great. So we’re looking for an unfindable woman to tell us how to escape an unstoppable curse. Love that for us.”

But fate threw us a bone at the next place we stopped.

It was a voodoo shop, tucked between buildings in a quiet section of the Quarter.

No neon signs, no gaudy displays to lure tourists, just a weathered wood door with a single gris-gris bag nailed above it, stuffed full of feathers, herbs, and iron nails that stuck out the sides.

The old man who greeted us inside the dimly lit interior had skin lined with years of secrets and dark eyes sharp enough to strip a lie bare before it passed your lips. He took one look at me and froze. His eyes widened, as if he knew something about me.

Something bad.

This town was really starting to get on my nerves.

Wordlessly, Dax handed the man a small bundle wrapped in red cloth. He took it, nodded, then bent close to Dax and murmured words only he could hear.

Ten seconds later, we were back outside on the sidewalk with the shop door closing behind us.

“What was that all about?” I said, looking at Dax askance.

“You can’t just demand information from a man like Doctor John. Houngans require respect.”

I guessed houngan was the formal title for a spiritual leader in his tradition. “So you bribed him?”

“I made an offering,” Dax corrected, shaking his head in amusement at my ignorance.

“And what did he say to you?”

“He told me where we might find Celeste Leclair.” He slanted a strange look down at me. “He also said that a sleeping lion is still a lion, and I should take care not to step on its tail or risk waking it up.”

I thought about that riddle for a moment. “So Celeste could be dangerous.”

“He wasn’t talking about her,” Dax responded quietly. “He was talking about you.”

Remembering the way the houngan had looked at me, I felt a shiver run down my spine. But it wasn’t fear. It was closer to anticipation.

As if my body recognized something my brain had yet to understand.

The masquerade ball where Celeste Leclair was rumored to be in attendance that evening was held at a gorgeous old mansion in the heart of the Garden District.

Warm light glowed from the high windows, illuminating the wrought iron gates and lavish grounds. Figures in elaborate masks and elegant attire made their way up the grand steps. The strains of a jazz band floated out from the open doors.

I smoothed my hands down the front of the dress I’d bought from the hotel’s boutique, a deep crimson slip of silk that hugged my frame and left little to the imagination. But I had no choice, seeing as how I’d packed for work, not play.

Shane would have an aneurysm when I wrote it off on my expense report. But, as the man himself liked to say, tough titty.

A black mask covered the upper half of my face, its delicate lace pattern resembling creeping vines. My hair hung loose around my shoulders. I didn’t have the right bra for the dress, so I wasn’t wearing one. Luckily, the weather tonight was mild.

Standing beside me, Dax looked ridiculously handsome in his tailored black suit. His mask was simpler, covering only his eyes, but the ink winding across his exposed collarbone made him stand out.

He noticed me ogling him and arched a brow. “What?”

“You have something on your chin,” I lied, covering for the way I’d been staring. He brushed at his chin as I glanced away, acutely conscious of his nearness. Of his scent. Of that strong jawline that I wasn’t admiring, not even a little bit.

We stepped inside.

The air was ripe with the mingled scents of perfume, mulled wine, and melting candle wax.

The walls flickered with golden light from the crystal chandeliers hanging overhead.

Gilded mirrors reflected masked couples swirling across the wide marble dance floor, their laughter a haunting melody beneath the strains of the music.

The scene was opulent and hypnotic, so intoxicating in its beauty that I stood stunned for a moment before pulling myself together to focus on why we were here.

“What does she look like?” I said, scanning the crowd.

“Beautiful” was Dax’s murmured reply.

When I glanced at him, he was staring intently down at me. His eyes glowed hot behind his black mask; then he looked away and cleared his throat. “You’ll recognize her when you see her.”

Flustered by his searing stare, I shook my head. “I’ve never met her before. How will I recognize her?”

“Trust me. You’ll know.”

He moved off, leaving me to navigate the crowd alone. The stiff set of his shoulders hinted at strong emotions he was fighting to maintain, but I knew better than to ask him about it. He’d only glare and dodge the question.

I slipped through the heated swirl of silk and velvet, drifting across the room, scanning for a sign. I didn’t know what kind, but when I turned a corner into a candlelit hallway, all the tiny hairs on my nape stood on end, and I knew instinctively that I’d found who I was looking for.

Or rather, she’d found me.

I stopped and waited, my heart thudding, my nerves prickling with sudden cold. The air in the room shifted, as if the walls themselves had exhaled, and suddenly a figure emerged from the shadows under a cluster of graceful potted palms.

She glided toward me slowly and soundlessly, bringing with her a disturbing crackle of energy, a wild force that hinted at danger, like the palpable electric friction in the air just ahead of a lightning strike.

Behind her gold filigree mask, her eyes were light gray, almost colorless.

Her old-fashioned gown was midnight blue.

Her long black hair was streaked with white.

Her lips were a vivid slash of bloodred against her pale skin, lending her the look of an undead creature who’d recently dined on living flesh.

Never one to miss a chance at an awkward greeting, I stuck out my hand and plastered on a smile. “Hi, I’m Petra. You must be Ms. Leclair. You’re way scarier than I anticipated.”

Instead of shaking my hand, she grasped it with clawlike fingers, her ice-cold grip surprisingly strong.

I laughed nervously. “Wow. Your hands are freezing. Do you keep them in a crypt for safekeeping?”

Ignoring that, she replied, “You wear your fate like an ill-fitted cloak, child. It clings to you in places and slips from you in others. Your future is not yet decided.”

Her voice was like wind slipping through a keyhole, thin and reedy, but with a subtly layered, overlapping quality, as if more than one person were speaking at once.

“Um . . . thanks?”

“You don’t yet know what you are, but I recognize you. So does the curse. You must be careful now, child. The enemy draws near.”

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “ Kill the tattooed devil before he kills you! ”

Great. She wanted me to unalive Dax. I’d admit the thought had crossed my mind more than once, but that was beside the point.

“Look, I’m sure you’re very upset over what happened to your daughter.

I mean, it’s totally understandable. I’d be angry too.

But I’m not the killing type. Unless you’re talking about the ungodly amount of carnitas platters I’ve murdered in my lifetime, because if we’re counting those, I’m a serial killer. ”

Celeste Leclair wasn’t amused by my levity. Her pale eyes stabbed into me, as cold and sharp as ice picks.

“I apologize. That was flippant. I’m just trying to figure out how to break the curse, that’s all.”

“The curse was sealed with blood magic. And only blood magic can unlock it.”

She said that like I was supposed to know what it meant. As if I’d graduated with honors from Hogwarts. I waited for more of an explanation, but when it didn’t come, I pressed her.

“But what does that mean exactly ? ‘Unlock’ makes it seem like you’re saying there’s some kind of key.”

Her cackle was low and unsettling. “There is. And you carry it inside you.”

She traced a bony finger over the blue vein that snaked down the inside of my forearm, then tapped my skin where the pulse beat at my wrist.

“Okay, with all due respect? You’re being way too cryptic. Explain it to me like I’m a toddler. How do we break the curse? Specifically. Is there a saying? Abracadabra, something like that? Is there a ritual? A spell? A shady notary that signs off on curse removals?”

“Just remember, child, one must be lost for the other to be free. The choice is yours.”

For fuck’s sake. These ominous one-liners were really starting to chap my ass.

I’m no genius, but I knew bitch-slapping a famous, powerful medium was a bad idea, so I kept politely prodding her.

“Lost how ? Like ‘lost in the woods’ lost? ‘Lost in time’ lost? Or ‘like a sacrificial lamb’ lost? Because, if I’m being honest, I’m not loving any of these options so far.”

“In the heart of the city, where the dead still make deals, there you will find what you seek.”

I glared at her. “Seriously?”

With another menacing cackle, she pulled away, murmuring over her shoulder, “Follow the fireflies.” She vanished, swallowed by the masked crowd.

So that was the famous medium Celeste Leclair.

Could’ve happily gone my entire lifetime without that weird-ass meeting.

“There you are.”

When Dax appeared beside me, I jumped. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“What’s wrong?”

I laughed nervously. “Oh, nothing. Just made friends with what could’ve been a witch, ghost, or zombie.”

His eyes sharpened. “Celeste?”

“Yeah. She introduced herself. And she couldn’t have been more creepy if she’d tried. She suggested I kill you.”

His expression darkened, his lips pressing into their default thin line. “And?”

“I told her I’d think about it. I’m leaning toward yes.”

We shared a wry smile. His vanished when I added, “She also said the curse can only be unlocked with blood magic. And apparently, I hold the key.”

He inhaled sharply, his posture stiffening as if readying for battle. “ What? ”

Nodding, I glanced down at my arm, at the place she tapped. I omitted that she’d echoed what I’d heard in a dream last night, about one having to be lost before the other could be free, because I was still mentally chewing on that riddle.

“What do you suppose it means?”

Tension radiated from his body. Dark thoughts swirled behind his eyes. But he remained stubbornly silent.

Shocker.

“Now’s not the time for biting your tongue, Sunshine. Whatever you’re thinking, spit it out.”

He said darkly, “I’m thinking you’re far more involved in this than either of us realized.”

Something about his tone set me off. “Stop being mysterious, okay? You sound just like that wacky medium. If you know something, say it.”

Jaw tight, he ground out, “I’m just trying to protect you.”

“I didn’t ask for your protection, I asked for the truth.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Incensed, I glared at him. “Nothing with you ever is. Why can’t you trust me?”

His eyes flashed. “Like you trust me?”

“I’m not the one keeping secrets.”

He shook his head, as if trying to deny he was keeping all the secrets he so obviously was. “This isn’t about trust. It’s about keeping you alive.”

My frustration boiled over. I snapped, “I’m not a child or some damsel in distress. And I didn’t come here tonight to stand here arguing with you. I came to find out how to break the curse!”

He gripped my upper arm, bringing me closer to him, so close his heat burned me right through my dress.

He growled, “And if breaking it kills you? Then what? I’m supposed to just stand by and let it happen?”

“Considering you told me I’m already marked for death by this wonderful family curse of yours, it hardly matters what you do, does it? One way or another, I’m toast!”

I waited for him to reply, but he didn’t.

So I was done.

Spinning on my heel, I stalked off down a side hallway, muttering oaths under my breath. I needed air, space, anything but his infuriating presence. I’d never met a man who could say so little but enrage me so much.

I pushed open a door at random and slipped inside, finding myself in a darkened study lined with old books and heavy velvet drapes. A fire smoldered low in the hearth, casting long shadows along the walls.

Before I could catch my breath, the door slammed shut behind me.

And there stood Dax. Handsome, glowering, pain-in-my-ass Dax.

I should have pushed him away. Should have kept arguing. But when he reached for me, I didn’t resist.

He crushed his mouth to mine.