A Curse Unbroken
Page 71
Normally I didn’t understand a word of Russian, but I did then. “Leave that for now. You need to eat, my son.”
Misha turned in the direction I waited. Although I still didn’t believe he could see me or feel my touch, I hugged him tightly and kissed his tear-streaked face. “It’s okay. Eat. I swear to you, your time will come.”
I awoke embracing Misha. But he was no longer a little boy and we were no longer in the past. We sat on the comfy white couch of the guesthouse.
I stared into his familiar strong gray eyes, feeling strangely at peace. “What did you do to me?”
Misha kept his arm around my shoulders while his right hand stroked my hair from my face. “I was in the parlor entertaining a business associate when I sensed your fear. I thought you were being attacked. We arrived to find you piercing your wrists with your fangs.”
“My fangs?” He nodded. Oh hell, Aric was right. My tigress was still with me.
“You would not respond to the sound of my words or my touch,” Misha said. “It was only when you met my eyes that you stopped.” He dropped his hand, his voice dripping with regret while his face only demonstrated anger. “I saw everything that has ever caused you pain—everything. I felt it and experienced it all at once.”
I gaped at him with wild, horrified eyes. “How?”
“In returning my soul, you have given me unimaginable power. Some gifts I have learned to control. Others unveil themselves as my spirit permits. I used what I’ve learned to share the darkness of my own past.”
At first I didn’t know how to respond, sadness throbbing mercilessly in my chest. “But why?”
He skimmed his fingers gently down my face to rest on my chin. “Because of who you are. I knew that in sharing my suffering, you would abandon your own to come to my aid.”
My attention fell to my wrists. In addition to giving me a glimpse into his past, Misha had managed to heal me.
“How is it that death has not claimed you?”
“That’s a good question.” I shrugged. “For the most part, I’ve been lucky, I guess.”
Misha laughed without humor. “Luck? No one is that fortunate, my darling. Your cunning, strength, and magic have certainly played roles in saving you.” His voice quieted. “Only your beauty, which brings me to my knees with the force of a tidal wave, can rival the power within you.”
I edged away from him, his words making me uncomfortable. I didn’t belong to him. Despite our current situation, I very much remained Aric’s mate. I owed it to him to remind Misha as much and although there were many ways to respond to his words, at the top of my list being run like hell, I resorted to making bad jokes. “You’re only saying that because I’m sitting here covered in blood.”
“No I’m not,” he added almost silently.
“Misha…” I inched away from him and tucked my knees against me to create space between us. Misha may have felt what he felt, but thankfully he didn’t press. In the silence between us, I considered his words.
Misha was right. I had left my own misery behind to help him—and I’d do it a thousand times over if he needed me—yet that didn’t explain why I felt better. Not only had my spirit been rejuvenated by the trip into his memory, but physically, I also felt stronger. “Why am I no longer weak or bleeding?”
“I used the healing power of my essence to mend your physical form. It is not a power I can use freely,” he added. “Tura has left your soul battered, thus, it is more vulnerable to intrusion. When you return to your former self, I will no longer be able to assist you in such a manner.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Thank you.”
Misha kissed my forehead before standing. “Lunch will be ready in an hour. Will you join me?”
I closed my eyes, relishing the peace that bathed my soul before answering, “Yes.”
Misha gave me a small smile. “Very well.”
I followed him out, but clasped his hand before he could leave. I wanted to say something poignant. This brief moment of tranquillity he gave me could have possibly saved me from plunging into darkness. How do you express gratitude for something like that? I searched for the right words before finally saying, “Misha…thank you for being my friend.”
Misha raised my hand and kissed it. I half-expected to catch traces of that terrified little boy somewhere inside him, but there was nothing left of that boy in the man who stood before me. His eyes were sharp with intelligence, arrogance, and control. He appeared omniscient, as most everyone saw him. I almost asked what happened to that man who had made him and his mother suffer, but I wasn’t callous enough to question him.
Misha stopped, considering me before stepping into the garden. “Your words inspired me, Celia,” he said. “I killed him the next time he sought the company of my mother. I sliced his throat with the same knife we used to cut the bread he brought us.”
With that little bombshell, he entered the garden and disappeared toward the house. I started to shut the door when the speaker system that connected the guest and main houses crackled. Once more the Eagles began to sing “You Are Not Alone.”
You’re not alone, the voices whispered again, bouncing along the walls from every direction.
I covered my ears, swearing as the voices repeated themselves. So much for thinking Misha had saved me from going nuts.
You’re not alone, the voices insisted.
My head snapped up as I realized who was speaking to me.
You’re not alone, they said once more, over the sound of the Eagles’ harmony.
“No…I’m not alone,” I said aloud. For a moment I couldn’t move. When I finally did I tore after Misha.
My bare feet slapped against the fresh snow falling on the slate walkway. I ignored the biting cold and the sting it caused my feet. “Misha, Misha!” My voice was lost, drifting away as the wind pushing its way toward the lake howled along the path. “Misha—Misha!”
I raced through the garden and was almost to the stretch of lawn leading to the house when he whirled and caught me in his arms as I stumbled forward. Vampires emerged from every direction, circling us protectively in anticipation of another attack.
Misha gripped my arms, his fierce stare taking in our surroundings in a glance. “What is it?” he asked.
Misha turned in the direction I waited. Although I still didn’t believe he could see me or feel my touch, I hugged him tightly and kissed his tear-streaked face. “It’s okay. Eat. I swear to you, your time will come.”
I awoke embracing Misha. But he was no longer a little boy and we were no longer in the past. We sat on the comfy white couch of the guesthouse.
I stared into his familiar strong gray eyes, feeling strangely at peace. “What did you do to me?”
Misha kept his arm around my shoulders while his right hand stroked my hair from my face. “I was in the parlor entertaining a business associate when I sensed your fear. I thought you were being attacked. We arrived to find you piercing your wrists with your fangs.”
“My fangs?” He nodded. Oh hell, Aric was right. My tigress was still with me.
“You would not respond to the sound of my words or my touch,” Misha said. “It was only when you met my eyes that you stopped.” He dropped his hand, his voice dripping with regret while his face only demonstrated anger. “I saw everything that has ever caused you pain—everything. I felt it and experienced it all at once.”
I gaped at him with wild, horrified eyes. “How?”
“In returning my soul, you have given me unimaginable power. Some gifts I have learned to control. Others unveil themselves as my spirit permits. I used what I’ve learned to share the darkness of my own past.”
At first I didn’t know how to respond, sadness throbbing mercilessly in my chest. “But why?”
He skimmed his fingers gently down my face to rest on my chin. “Because of who you are. I knew that in sharing my suffering, you would abandon your own to come to my aid.”
My attention fell to my wrists. In addition to giving me a glimpse into his past, Misha had managed to heal me.
“How is it that death has not claimed you?”
“That’s a good question.” I shrugged. “For the most part, I’ve been lucky, I guess.”
Misha laughed without humor. “Luck? No one is that fortunate, my darling. Your cunning, strength, and magic have certainly played roles in saving you.” His voice quieted. “Only your beauty, which brings me to my knees with the force of a tidal wave, can rival the power within you.”
I edged away from him, his words making me uncomfortable. I didn’t belong to him. Despite our current situation, I very much remained Aric’s mate. I owed it to him to remind Misha as much and although there were many ways to respond to his words, at the top of my list being run like hell, I resorted to making bad jokes. “You’re only saying that because I’m sitting here covered in blood.”
“No I’m not,” he added almost silently.
“Misha…” I inched away from him and tucked my knees against me to create space between us. Misha may have felt what he felt, but thankfully he didn’t press. In the silence between us, I considered his words.
Misha was right. I had left my own misery behind to help him—and I’d do it a thousand times over if he needed me—yet that didn’t explain why I felt better. Not only had my spirit been rejuvenated by the trip into his memory, but physically, I also felt stronger. “Why am I no longer weak or bleeding?”
“I used the healing power of my essence to mend your physical form. It is not a power I can use freely,” he added. “Tura has left your soul battered, thus, it is more vulnerable to intrusion. When you return to your former self, I will no longer be able to assist you in such a manner.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Thank you.”
Misha kissed my forehead before standing. “Lunch will be ready in an hour. Will you join me?”
I closed my eyes, relishing the peace that bathed my soul before answering, “Yes.”
Misha gave me a small smile. “Very well.”
I followed him out, but clasped his hand before he could leave. I wanted to say something poignant. This brief moment of tranquillity he gave me could have possibly saved me from plunging into darkness. How do you express gratitude for something like that? I searched for the right words before finally saying, “Misha…thank you for being my friend.”
Misha raised my hand and kissed it. I half-expected to catch traces of that terrified little boy somewhere inside him, but there was nothing left of that boy in the man who stood before me. His eyes were sharp with intelligence, arrogance, and control. He appeared omniscient, as most everyone saw him. I almost asked what happened to that man who had made him and his mother suffer, but I wasn’t callous enough to question him.
Misha stopped, considering me before stepping into the garden. “Your words inspired me, Celia,” he said. “I killed him the next time he sought the company of my mother. I sliced his throat with the same knife we used to cut the bread he brought us.”
With that little bombshell, he entered the garden and disappeared toward the house. I started to shut the door when the speaker system that connected the guest and main houses crackled. Once more the Eagles began to sing “You Are Not Alone.”
You’re not alone, the voices whispered again, bouncing along the walls from every direction.
I covered my ears, swearing as the voices repeated themselves. So much for thinking Misha had saved me from going nuts.
You’re not alone, the voices insisted.
My head snapped up as I realized who was speaking to me.
You’re not alone, they said once more, over the sound of the Eagles’ harmony.
“No…I’m not alone,” I said aloud. For a moment I couldn’t move. When I finally did I tore after Misha.
My bare feet slapped against the fresh snow falling on the slate walkway. I ignored the biting cold and the sting it caused my feet. “Misha, Misha!” My voice was lost, drifting away as the wind pushing its way toward the lake howled along the path. “Misha—Misha!”
I raced through the garden and was almost to the stretch of lawn leading to the house when he whirled and caught me in his arms as I stumbled forward. Vampires emerged from every direction, circling us protectively in anticipation of another attack.
Misha gripped my arms, his fierce stare taking in our surroundings in a glance. “What is it?” he asked.
