Curse of Dracula - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,55

something like what Alfonzo did, and Eddie is probably on his way here to try to ‘save’ you.”

“Alfonzo did nothing to Dracula that I did not also do.”

“You didn’t punch Miss Parker.”

Bella went quiet for a moment. “I told him that was stupid.”

Mordecai laughed and flopped over her to kiss her. When he finished, he was smiling. “You’re adorable.”

“We are talking about the death and murder of my friends.”

“You’re still adorable.”

She shook her head and placed her palms on his chest to push him away. He went up to his knees willingly, and she climbed out of bed. Her clothes were somewhere—oh, yes, there—and his offer of fresh air and more food than what he could carry in on a plate for them was welcome. It was halfway through dressing before she realized he was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her with both fascination and something close to worship in his eyes. Her cheeks went warm, and she focused on lacing up her dress. “Am I going to have to choose?”

“Hm? Between what?”

“You and them.”

Mordecai stood and approached her. Mid-stride, a long loincloth appeared on him. It was black with blueish purple archaic writing threaded into it—the same that was carved into his horns. She didn’t have much time to think about it before he had pulled her into his arms.

He held her tenderly. This wasn’t—for once—about pleasure. This was about comfort. He nuzzled her hair, kissed her temple, then rested his head on hers. “Thank you, Bella.”

“For…what? What did I say?”

“You implied there was a choice to be made. That you might…even struggle with it, should it come down to your old friends or me. That is a greater gift than I could have ever asked for, my angel.”

She blinked. He was right. She hadn’t even realized what she had said. She rested her head on his chest and felt his chin atop her hair. He was so warm. He smelled like spices and that comfortable scent of a wood fire. “I don’t want to have to choose.”

“I know. I know it’s cruel. But…life is terrible. I understand you want to save your friends, but there’s nothing we can do. They chose these paths for themselves. Alfonzo could have spared this city. He could have saved you too, but he picked his hatred instead. Eddie could turn away now and leave the city unharmed, but he will not relent until he frees you.”

“What…?” She looked up at him, fear clutching at her. Fear and shame. If he found her like this—with an incubus—what would he think? “Does he…does he know?”

Hurt washed over his beautiful features. “No. He has not been told with what you now spend your time. I’m sure if he was told, he would not believe the words. He would claim that you are too good of a person to fall prey to such a monstrous thing as me.” He let go of her and stepped away. He looked so wounded.

“I…” Her heart ached. No. It was more than that. It was as though she had been stabbed. It was as though his pain was her own. She was no empath like Maxine, but the look on his face and the way his shoulders slumped twisted in her stomach. “Mordecai.”

He turned away from her, his head down, and he ran his long, sharp, black nails through his hair, scratching at his scalp. It ruffled his already messy blond hair even further. “If he comes for you, you will go to him.” It was a statement of certainty. The betrayal in his voice stung.

She didn’t want to hurt him.

She tried to force herself to picture how it might all play out. Eddie would come for her, burst into the room, and riddle Mordecai with bullets. The incubus would lie dead at her feet. She would take her friend’s hand and let him lead her from the darkness. They would seek out Alfonzo and either save him or be too late.

But then what?

She allowed herself to presume the likely impossible feat that they would defeat Dracula and save the city. The light would stand victorious.

But then what?

Would she be expected to marry Eddie? To be with him simply because she should? Because that was what was expected? Perhaps have his children and live “happily” ever after? Could he live with what she had done with the incubus?

Could she live with the memory of him? Of how happy she had been in his arms?

The image of her

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