Dark Curse (Darkhaven Saga #5) - Danielle Rose Page 0,10
I stumble, grabbing on to him to steady myself as blood rushes to my brain.
I blink several times, clearing my vision. Almost as soon as my dizzy spell hits, it dissipates, leaving me with nothing but a concerned-looking witch staring down at me. I find myself wondering what happened to Holland’s mask.
His forehead is creased, his eyes narrowed as he squints while he looks at me. Except, he isn’t looking in my eyes. Mentally, I try to follow his gaze, to see what has captured his attention so acutely. He stands stiff, his muscles frozen in time as he assesses me.
Suddenly I know what he sees, and I suck in a sharp breath at the realization. Holland’s gaze flashes to mine, and a moment of recognition crosses between us. I swallow the knot that forms in my throat and yank myself free of his embrace.
I stumble backward, desperate to put as much space between the two of us as I possibly can. I am willing to put the entire forest between us if that is what I have to do to keep him silent. I do not want to listen to his questions or hear his accusations. I just want silence, even for only a moment longer.
I see it in his eyes. The endless questions that play through his mind, the hurt on his face for realizing my secret, the fear that inevitably consumes him as he recognizes that I have far less time than he originally thought.
“Ava…” Holland whispers.
He does not hide his pain. It coats his words, wrapping around me until it chokes the life from me. Holland’s agony over my fate suffocates me, and I realize this is why I keep my secrets. Yes, I am scared to admit my fate, but more importantly, I do not want to witness these moments. I do not want to see it flash before Jasik’s eyes as he understands he must bury the first vampire he sired.
I am going to die—it is just a matter of time.
Holland takes a step forward, but I hold out my arms, stopping him in his tracks. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I cannot let them fall. If I weep now, every vampire in this manor will rush to my side. And I cannot stare down an entire nest while still maintaining my secrecy. I will break. They will force the truth from my numb tongue, and I am not ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Please don’t,” I say, begging for silence but receiving none.
“How long?” Holland asks. He is not specific. I suppose he does not need to be. We both know I understand his question.
I do not respond, but not because I do not want to. My mouth has run dry, my tongue painful to move. Suddenly scorching, my skin is moist, and I dab at my forehead with my sweater. My breathing becomes loud and erratic, my heart pounding in my chest. I feel light-headed as my vision blurs, and I worry I might actually pass out.
Holland wants me to admit my lies, to come to terms with my secrecy once and for all, but the thought of doing so nauseates me. I feel weaker than I have ever felt in my entire life, and I once took a dagger to the back courtesy of my own grandmother. But this is far worse.
“Soup’s on!” Jasik shouts as he enters the parlor.
His mouth is upturned in a beautiful smile that is wide and white. His fangs hang down low, betraying his identity as an immortal creature of the night. I notice them every time he looks at me, because mine are no longer there. There was once a time when I hated what I had become, and now, I would give anything to look at myself in the mirror and not hate what I see.
Jasik’s dark-brown hair is shiny and silky, his skin pale, his eyes piercing crimson red. His body is toned and tall—much taller than me—yet as he makes his way into the parlor, dressed in his typical hunting gear for tonight’s patrol, I go weak in the knees. This dark, dangerous predator walks confidently toward me, carrying a pot of sloshing liquid.
Strapped to his torso is a bright pink apron that says Kiss the Chef in bold, black letters that sparkle. Hikari brought it home one day as a surprise for me. She included some cookbooks and said she stocked the kitchen with basics.
“You got this for