Dark Curse (Darkhaven Saga #5) - Danielle Rose Page 0,2

pulling it free.

When I bring my hand to Jasik’s face, I stop. I pull my arm away, afraid I might lose all sense and touch him. Everything about him is perfect—from his devotion to me to his fierce protectiveness. Sometimes, when I am around him, it is almost too hard to look at him. My hands get clammy, my mind fuzzy, and my chest hurts.

Sometimes I catch him looking at me when he thinks I am not aware. It is the way he regards me in those moments. My heart stops, and I want to die.

I am never afraid when I am with him. Even now, as he sleeps, I know I am safe. But that still has not steadied my heart. It races in my chest, hammering so hard against my rib cage I worry it will break free.

Something catches my eye, and I tear my gaze from the vampire beside me. A shadow moves across the strip of light penetrating the room, and I freeze. I do not move again until my chest burns. Only then do I release my breath and take the final steps to the window.

But I do not dare a peek. I refuse to look outside, to see what awaits in the forest that surrounds the manor. With a shaking hand and weak arm, I reach forward. I tuck the curtain around the bend in the windowsill, pulling it tightly so that the sunlight is completely blocked.

Only when I hear his screams do I realize I did not take enough care to enclose my bedroom in darkness.

I blink several times, awakening from my trance. I shield my eyes, the sunlight burning too brightly against my weakened senses.

My bedroom is engulfed in sunlight, and my bed is immersed in flames. Mesmerized by the fire, I am stunned silent, only regaining my control over my voice when it is too late to save him.

From where he lies on my bed, cast aflame in a fiery rage, Jasik bellows, the agony in his voice like a knife to the gut. His pain encompasses me, cocooning me in its clutch, and his screams penetrate straight to my heart. The accusation of his words wraps around me, looping over and over again, and I know I will never be free of it.

I hear nothing else. His scream falls silent, his pain extinguished, and I am showered in ash. But the fire looms, growing brighter by the second as it spreads to the hardwood floor.

The floorboards feel like molten lava against my bare feet. I look at my arms, where Jasik’s ashes mix with my sweat. I swirl the mixture together, frowning at the mess I have created.

Someone is banging at my bedroom door. I hear voices, but I do not bother responding. I do not even look their way.

The air is thick with smoke, and I choke on my breath, sucking in sharp gasps as my chest heaves, my body begging for oxygen. My eyelids are heavy, and my limbs are shaking.

But I do not move. Even though I know my senses should be rapid firing, screaming at me to escape, I do not listen to them.

Because all I can hear is Jasik’s voice in my head. His cry is like twine, and it threads around me, trapping me in this place, in this time.

Frozen.

Hollow.

Dead.

What have you done?

That evening, as I get ready for another long night of reading stacks of books that can tell me nothing about my condition, I do not look at Jasik. I fear if I do, he will see the guilt etched across my face. It is in the way I look at him, the way I touch him, the way I say his name. I cannot avoid it, and the more time we spend together, the better Jasik becomes at reading my inner thoughts, as if I speak them aloud.

I know I was having another nightmare last night. If I was not, Jasik would be dead right now—killed by my hand. I shiver at the thought, still letting it invade my innermost consciousness. The images lash out at me, and I flinch, allowing my visions to stain my mind in red.

I need to get better at controlling my emotions. The worst part of my transition—from witch to hybrid and hybrid to human—has been my inability to remain calm, lucid in all situations. Every little thing irks me, as though I am some ticking time bomb waiting to burst. And if it does not