Cursed Souls by Anya J. Cosgrove

Author:Anya J. Cosgrove [Cosgrove, Anya J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Fantasy, Romance, Witches, Suspense
ISBN: 9781999390150
Goodreads: 42904295
Publisher: Anya J Cosgrove
Published: 2019-05-16T00:00:00+00:00

Skyfall

Alana

Distant thunder mirrors the rumbling in my soul. It's one of those summer afternoons when you feel the weight of the clouds pressing down on your shoulders. Every gust of wind caressing my neck feels like a gift but fails at drying my skin. The earth is begging for rain, and the smell of grass flirts with flowery essences while the sky darkens with the promise of relief.

I stare down the Walkers' front door with both hands on my hips, knowing it's not the barrier I came to trample. I hope for a bit of luck but know better than to depend on it. Liam got a get out of jail free card last night, but I won't let him run away again.

The door creaks as I walk inside.

Liam erupts from the kitchen, a book tucked against his thigh, one finger marking the page. "Thom's driving Vicky to New York to get the potion. Marie went with them." The statement is meant as a dismissal. He fully expects me to leave, but I came precisely because I knew we'd be alone.

I chew on my bottom lip. "I came to see you."

His shoulders stiffen. A deep sigh halts his breath, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. "We have one conversation, and you assume I want to see you." He says the words as though it's his own fault for making a stupid mistake. Like he's been beating himself up for it ever since. Like what should have been an inconsequential exchange for both of us wasn't so inconsequential to him either.

I search for better, more confident words, but they elude me, so I settle for the truth. "It's not just that. You keep stealing glances at me, you laugh at my jokes—"

"Wow, you really think the world revolves around you."

"—and yesterday you touched me."

"I handed you a knife."

The simple fact that he knows exactly what I'm babbling about emboldens me. "You act as though the ritual didn't change anything, but you're different. You're back."

His shoulders hitch. "You want a medal for fixing me? I'm fresh out."

He lashes out. That's what he does. Don't let him bully you out. "You're back, but you don't trust me."

His arms slice the air between us. "Jesus! What did you expect? You took a knife to my soul, crammed the piece I'd given you in a jar, and gave it to my worst enemy."

"I didn't give—I didn't know what it would do to you."

"Boo-hoo. You never asked."

Touché.

I grip his sleeve. "What can I do? I'm here. I'm asking. What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing."

"You're saying it's unforgivable?"

"I'm saying I want nothing from you." The hard, bitter shape of his mouth tells me he means every word, and he turns on his heel and dashes upstairs.

I was so sure... was I too impatient, or are things broken beyond repair? Maybe Faye was right, and I'm living in a fantasy.

I follow him to his room and test the doorknob, but it's not locked. Any surprise is quickly smothered by fear.

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