Page 41 of Cursebreaker

I stagger back a step, bumping into someone’s chest. Large hands grip my arms, steadying me enough that I’m able to turn and see Gabriel towering over me. He frowns—there’s a flicker of disappointment in his gaze as he searches my face—but then he pulls me into a hug I didn’t realize I needed until his arms are around me and I’m sobbing in earnest. I hear it then—my own cries, Gabriel’s gentle, comforting murmurs that ensure I am safe, and alive, and that all this is real.

Real. Real. Real.

“Aster?” comes Owen’s broken voice. “Aster!”

I turn, starting toward him. Charlie and Lewis hold him upright, and Margaret turns her attention to me then, fussing over the cut in my forehead, but I understand, instantly, why Owen has called for me. Before I’ve even reached him, he extends the dagger, still wet with blood. I take it, turning swiftly on my heels and before I know it, I’m racing down the companionway, deep into the belly of the ship. I don’t stop until I’m standing in front of Titus’s cell, the dagger dripping blood onto the wooden planks.

One drop. All he needs is one drop, and he’ll be free of Morana’s compulsion.

He sits propped against a barrel at the back of his cell, but when he sees me, he’s on his feet in seconds, his face pressed against the iron bars as if he could somehow fit through them and reach me.

But not for the reasons I would hope. No, it seems his compelled hatred for me has festered in my absence, and when he snaps his teeth, I realize how sick he looks—starved, as if he hadn’t had a bite of food to eat in days, his lips chapped despite the sheen of sweat on his forehead. I recognize the wild look in his eyes—the hunger.

Bloodlust.

“Here,” I say softly, extending the bloody end of the blade in his direction. “If you drink this—”

He shrinks away from the bars, glaring at the dagger. His lip curls in disgust, and he chuckles darkly. “Did you think it would be that easy?”

I had hoped so, yes.

“Please,” I urge, taking a step closer to the cell. I’m within arm’s reach if he wanted to grab hold of my wrist, but he won’t come anywhere near me. Not with the dagger in my hand.

“I can’t,” he grits out, and I catch a glimpse of Titus—my Titus—before the wicked glint returns to his eyes, and he smirks. “Those who have been compelled cannot drink Morana’s blood directly. However”—he prowls toward me, grabbing my arm before I can pull away—“if I were to drink from someone who had Morana’s blood in their veins…”

“Do it,” I say.

My lack of hesitation appears to shock him, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. His fingers grip my arm, painfully tight. “You’re sure about that, love?” he whispers, his lips brushing my skin as he lifts my wrist to his mouth. His eyes glow golden, his voice deeper than it was a moment ago, rich and thick, like honey. “I won’t be able to stop, Aster. Would you really risk your life to save mine?”

I clench my jaw, my pulse pounding in my throat, but I know my answer. “I’m sure,” I say, stepping closer, until our faces are separated only by the iron bars between us. I search his eyes, his face. The moment I was free of Will’s compulsion, I knew one thing for certain.

“I trust you,” I say, holding his gaze.

He blinks as if stunned. Glances at my wrist. Inhales sharply through his nose.

The pain is swift. He sinks his teeth into my wrist, and the dagger clatters to the floor of his cell. At first, he appears to be fighting the impulse to rip into my veins and feed, his gaze locked onto mine, as if attempting to gauge my reaction. But I feel the moment his control slips. My blood gushes past his lips, dripping from his chin, and he closes his eyes. He grunts, pulling on my arm so fiercely I fear he’ll tear it from my body.

“Titus!”

He doesn’t hear me. Or doesn’t care.

My head feels light, my vision tilting. He’ll stop, I think. He has to stop.

Footsteps pound somewhere far away. Gabriel appears, shouting at me, but I can’t understand him. My eyelids flutter. I’m so tired, I think I might fall asleep. Yes—that sounds nice. Titus is here. He’s safe. I’ve freed him of his compulsion. He’s free. I can rest now.

I think I might say something. Three words, spoken softly, felt deeply.

And then the world goes dark.

PART TWO

FEARED

I dream of rose gardens and stolen kisses and bloody teeth. I dream of falling and of fire. I dream of red eyes and cursed blades and shadows that wrap themselves around my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter and—

I wake, gasping for air.

“Shh.” Margaret sits on the edge of my bed in the captain’s quarters, dabbing my face with a cool, damp cloth. Gauzy light filters in from the open windows, glittering on the surface of the sapphire-blue waters of the Western Sea.