Cursed: Out of Ash and Flame by E.C. Farrell

Author:E.C. Farrell [Farrell, E.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: E.C. Farrell
Published: 2021-03-11T22:00:00+00:00

WARM LIGHT NUDGES ME from sleep. It thins the darkness behind my closed eyes, a gentle call back to consciousness. As my thoughts slowly climb out of the sluggishness of dreams, shock cuts sharp through my chest, kicking my pulse into overdrive. Gasping, I shove up onto my elbows, eyes foggy, mouth tasting like death. Sunshine filters through the part in the curtains on the other side of the motel room.

Mouth hanging open, I stare. The last time I slept through the whole night was before my curse. How...? A gentle weight on my back registers as the shock fades. I look down to find Max’s hand resting gently there. He squints up at me, removing it to cover a yawn.

“Sorry,” he says in a mutter. “You started whimpering and I thought it might help.”

“Thought what might help?” My words snap in my panic.

“Rubbing your back. I know I should’ve asked, but under the circumstances...” He shrugs a shoulder. “Sorry.”

Pulling my legs under me, I sit back on my heels and stare down at him. I slept through the night for the first time in years because Max rubbed my back when I started to wake up at midnight. Though a fairly innocent gesture, it’s also oddly intimate.

Embarrassed warmth floods my face, but a far stronger heat flames in my gut. “You rubbed my back to calm me down.”

Max shrugs again and his cheeks darken. “I thought it might be comforting.”

I mash the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Clearly it was. Um ... thanks. Thank you. I, uh, I’m going to go brush my teeth because ew.”

Scrambling out of the bed, I half-sprint, half-stumble to the bathroom. My whole body shakes as I lean against the counter, gasping. Desire swells to an absolute crescendo. It muddles my brain so bad my head swims and all the professionalism in me disintegrates.

“Get a hold of yourself, Fee,” I say in a whisper, glaring at my reflection. “You cannot maul him. He pet you like ... like a freaking cat. That’s not intimate. It’s something you do to a child having a nightmare. It was pity. Nothing more.”

This speech is complete and total B.S.

My skin flames as my imagination stirs up images of his hand on my back. Sensations ghost between my shoulder blades and down my spine. With a quiet growl, I crank the faucet and splash cold water on my face.

“Everything okay in there?” Max asks through the door.

“Be out in a minute.” I curl my toes into the cold tile, mentally cursing myself for the tremor in my voice, then force a painfully fake laugh. “Just not used to sleeping through the night like that. It’s got me off-kilter.”

That’s not a total lie, even if it does sound intensely lame. I focus all my powers of concentration on brushing my teeth, scrubbing with such ferocity my gums bleed a little, then change into my jeans and t-shirt. With a final scolding sneer at my reflection, I shove my toiletries into my backpack, then fling open the door.

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