She didn't answer. She didn't have to. He could see it in her face, in the way her hand pressed against her chest like she was trying to hold herself together. The curse was already working on her, calling to her, drawing her toward the room that would kill her.
Just like all the others.
No,his wolf snarled.Not like the others. She is stronger. She will fight it. She is ours.
"It will get worse." He made himself say the words, made himself give her the truth she deserved even though it tasted like poison. "The dreams will come every night now. They will show you the room. They will show you what's inside. The pull will grow stronger until it feels like your bones are trying to walk without you."
"How do I fight it?"
"I don't know." The admission burned. "The others couldn't. They fought for weeks, some of them. Months. But the curse always won in the end."
She looked at him and the expression on her face made him feel things he had forgotten he could feel.
"You watched them die," she said. "You loved them."
"I stopped loving them after Marguerite." He forced the words out. "It was easier."
"Liar."
The word hung between them. She was right. He was a liar. He had loved every single one of them, in his broken, desperate way. Had hoped every single time that this one would be different, this one would survive, this one would break the curse and set him free.
And every single time, he had buried another ring in that damned velvet box.
"Go back to sleep," he said roughly. "I'll station a guard outside the door. If you feel the pull getting stronger, if you find yourself walking without meaning to, call out. We'll stop you."
"And if I can't stop myself?"
He met her eyes. "Then I will chain you to this bed until your heat passes and you can think clearly again."
Her scent spiked. Arousal, hot and sweet, flooding the room. She didn't want to respond to that. He could see it in her face, the shame and the anger and the helpless wanting. But her body didn't care what she wanted.
Neither did his.
Chain her,his wolf urged.Chain her to the bed and mount her and fill her with our seed. Make her ours before the curse can take her.
"Get some sleep," he said, and left before he could do something they would both regret.
Chapter Three
JEANNE
Aweek on the ship, and Jeanne had learned several things.
First: the pull toward the forbidden door was not going away. If anything, it grew stronger with each passing hour, a constant ache that whisperedcome see, come see, come see.
