The newlybound urges are far stronger this time, too. Despite the last day and a half spent relishing Maven and enjoying every moment of her pleasure, whether it was caused by me or my quintet members, I’m still aching for more of her. The only madness that remains from my curse is the insanity she inspires in me.
Yet once again, my curse isfinallygone.
It’s poignant, this sensation of sanity. Even something as simple as eating with my quintet is blessedly peaceful as we gather around the table to eat the casserole Baelfire made—except for Crypt, who takes to studying Maven’s new etherium blade.
Although his markings have been lighting up as his curse affects him, I’ve noted that it’s been less frequent since we were rebound to our keeper. Considering the almost unmanageable boost in power I can sense racing inside my veins, I’ve decided he must also be stronger overall and suffering slightly less.
Still, I don’t envy him for his unbreakable curse, hence why I’ve been meddling with areveriumpotion. He just so happened to leave his leather jacket on the floor unattended yesterday while he was fucking our gorgeous keeper, and I just so happened to find several sprigs of the colorless herb in one of the pockets.
Soothing the pain from his curse is his only reprieve. Perhaps I feel I owe him that, knowing what I now know of the Nightmare Prince’s nightmarish past.
Having my curse gone again…gods above, I feel like myself again for the first time in six long, wretched months. No more voices ripping my head apart. No more glowing herons or imps or other figments of my imagination fluttering about. All that remains is the same burning thirst for Maven and her delectably powerful blood—but then, my perfectly vicious keeper doesn’t mind that, so neither do I.
I bask in the simple pleasure of owning my own mind as we eat, the others exchanging small talk until there’s a firm knock on the front door. Baelfire uses his shifter speed to open it quickly, revealing Asher Douglas. The mercenary is no longer bundled in as many winter clothes, since the temperatures are slowly returning to normal in the wake of Everett’s curse being broken.
Douglas is fully recovered from everything that happened at the elite safe haven and doesn’t spare the rest of us a passing glance as he looks over Baelfire’s shoulder at Everett.
“Well?” he asks pointedly, nodding at the letter Everett was reading.
Everett sighs. “Just kill him and be done with it.”
“Kill who?” I frown.
“The crackpot caster who’s obsessed with your keeper,” Douglas huffs. “He’s been gathering followers outside the castle ever since she decided to fucking broadcast her true nature on live television. Which, by the way, what a reckless way to?—”
“Hold up,” Baelfire cuts him off with a glare. “Someone else is obsessed with Maven? Fuck that—my mate already has four obsessive freaks. We don’t have room for more. Who is this caster?”
Douglas notices the food we’re eating and glances into the kitchen, though he still can’t enter thanks to the wards remaining in place. “Got any leftovers? I’m starving.”
“No,” I say at the same time as the others—except for Maven, who arches a brow.
“We do have food leftover, though,” she points out.
Crypt finally sets down the etherium knife. “That’s for you, love. I didn’t go searching for the potatoes you like just to have them shoved down the gullet of someone who shot you.”
“I apologized for that,” Douglas grumbles. “Over-apologized, if you ask me.”
“We didn’t,” Everett says coldly. Then the elemental sighs and replaces his reading glasses to skim the letter again, his brow furrowed as he addresses the rest of us. “Lillian slipped this under the door for me. The crackpot Douglas is talking about is a cult leader named Orlando Coates. She met him before, a long time ago, when he and his cult members tried to take up residence in one of Syntyche’s temples. He’s apparently obsessed with Sytyche and teaches his followers that since she was the firstborn of the celestial triplets, she should be the queen of Paradise and ruler of the world and a bunch of otherlunatic shit like that. Lillian wrote this to warn me that Coates is beginning to resort to desperate lengths to get our attention so he can finally meet you,” Everett adds, glancing at Maven.
She tips her head. “Define desperate lengths.”
“He’s telling all his followers and the other people who’ve gathered to Everbound’s safe haven that he’s going to make some big sacrifice at noon in your honor,” Asher Douglas grunts from the doorway, still eyeing the casserole on the stove. “He’s also building a temple for you.”
“Forme?”
The mercenary nods, scratching the tattoo on the column of his throat. “Yep.”
“He’s fucking insane.”
“Yep.” Asher looks back at Everett. “Killing Orlando Coates will piss off his surprisingly large cult. They might stir up the other Reformists and Nether humans, too. You guys can only hole up in here for so long.”
“Then kill the cult off, too,” Everett shrugs, indifferent.
“Before they become more of a problem,” Crypt agrees easily, spinning Maven’s etherium knife on the table.
My brows go up, and I exchange a look with Baelfire, who looks equally surprised. Gods above.Theseare the two who were running the show while we were out of order? I’ve gathered that Everett changed a bit over the last six months, but a full extermination order is extreme, even for us.
Meanwhile, my blood blossom examines Everett without giving away her thoughts.
