It might make him mad, but I slide my gaze away from him and shrug a shoulder. Of course they would have told him. I don’t know what their relationship is with one another, but they’re all buddy-buddy. It’s annoying.
“And. . . ?”
He huffs under his breath. “Why do you want to know about runes?”
Looking over at the books they just look like regular leather bound hardcovers. There’s no title on them and they’re not as thick as I was thinking they would be.
Straightening my back, I meet his eye again. For some reason his heart beats a fraction harder when I do. “Do you know about runic curses?” And now his heart trips.
His eyes darken as he repeats, “Runic. . .curses?” I nod once and a look of hesitancy with suspicion shadows his face. “Runic magic is neither good nor evil, only the user can condone morals, however using runes to influence curses goes against its nature. All magic should follow the balances of the universes.”
I nod at all that and wave a hand as I turn away to think.
“I know all that,” I grumble. Staring at a point I let my mind wonder into the past. “But runic curses are the hardest to break because of that. I’m not asking because I want to cast one, I’m asking because. . . “
I had been young when he did it. I don’t remember the symbols he carved into me or the process of how it all went down. He had done it in the middle of the night when I had been half asleep and after that all I felt was burning.
That’s all I felt the next four years.
Shutting my eyes, I rub them and then exhale before looking back up at the devil. He’s watching me with a curiosity and I shift in place at it.
“Do you know anything else about runic curses?” I ask. “Or do you know someone else I can ask?”
Crossing his arms – I involuntarily glance down at them – he leans against his desk and gives me a pointed look.
“Why do you want to know about runic curses, Mavyn?”
Something, somewhere south, flutters when he says my name like that. I don’t think he’s called me by my first name at all and hearing it in his deep tenor voice makes me clench.
What. The. Fuck.
The gold ring in his eyes flare a bit and I immediately look away as I shift again.
“Curiosity.”
He hums but he doesn’t sound convinced. I don’t blame him.
Turning back around, he opens one of the books and murmurs deeply, “Come.”
My blood rushes before I can calm it and I involuntarily clench around nothing again. If I’m not careful I’m about to be smelling much sweeter with that berry and floral scent and it won’t be because I’m bleeding.
Which also reminds me, I’ll have to go to the bathroom soon.
Worst fucking timing. Worst of all is it’s not just my ovulation phase when I’m. . . hormonal. Always towards the end of my menstruation entering my follicular phase for a couple days I swear I’m ovulating more than my actual ovulation phase.
And he has the fucking nerve to say that fucking word with his fucking voice.
Taking a deep, quiet breath, I regulate my blood flow and heartbeat and walk over. He’s already leaning over a book with the chapter header labeled ‘Mortem’.
“How comforting,” I murmur under my breath but Professor Asier huffs a laugh at that.
“Runic curses are forbidden,” he explains. “The only thing that will be mentioned in any book about them is that they taint the soul and lead you to your death.”
Pointing at something, I lean closer in to read it. Only I can’t because the rest of the text is in Latin, but I do see a few words I do understand.
Cursed. Death. Blood. Runes.
Nothing that could help me understand the context, but he helps with that.
