The Fated Cused

Chapter 4

Reaching out, he caught her gently but firmly by the arm and led her away from the prying eyes of the common room, guiding her quickly to the far corner near the warmth of the great stone hearth.

Hidden within the deep shadows cast by the firelight, they could at least have a semblance of privacy away from the crowd. He sat down heavily on the rough wooden bench and pulled her down right beside him.

Feeling awkward and out of place, he slid his arm around her shoulders and drew her against his side, consciously trying to soften the hard, corded muscles of his frame so he would not hurt her.

“Tell me what ails you, little one. Whatever burden you carry, you do not need to weep like this alone,” he murmured, doing his utmost to keep the usual edge of irritation out of his deep voice.

She did not speak immediately, but instead buried her hot, wet face against the solid wall of his chest, seeking shelter. Every instinct screaming in his bones told him that he was walking straight into danger, that he was about to get involved in something he should run far away from. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones.

Yet, at the same time, he felt a deep, resonant vibration rumble through his chest—the Wolf purring with approval. The creature loved holding her, loved offering her comfort and protection.

And much to his own annoyance, Cain realized that he enjoyed it too. Why was it that this curvy little priestess, with her wild tangle of red curls and those dustings of freckles across her nose, was able to slip past his defenses so effortlessly?

“There, there,” he whispered, hesitantly lifting a hand to stroke that riot of hair. It was even softer than it looked, fine and smooth like woven silk. The warmth of her lush body pressed so intimately against his reminded him painfully of how long it had been since he had held a woman like this. Since Leandro had passed on to the next world, the desire to seek out company or pleasure had simply drained away, leaving him cold and alone.

And right now, he certainly felt no lust. He knew some men were aroused by a woman’s tears, who fed off her pain and vulnerability, but for him, it had the opposite effect. Though his body had hardened instantly with need when he had kissed her, all that heat had now softened, replaced by a steady need to keep her safe and dry her eyes.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered at last, lifting her head to look at him. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her long dark lashes were clumped together with moisture, making her look heartbreakingly vulnerable and devastatingly beautiful all at once. “I did not mean to cry all over you like this.”

“It is nothing,” he answered in his rough manner. “Sometimes the pain inside grows too heavy to carry alone, and the tears have to fall to lighten the load.”

It was what Leandro had told him so many years ago, when he had found the boy wandering lost and alone in the dusty streets long after midnight. The old man had always been patient with his grief, even when Cain was small and could not remember exactly what it was he had lost.

“I know,” she said, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink as she looked down at her hands, clearly still too shy to say the words plainly. “But you do not even know who I am. I walk in here, asking you to… to take me…” She stumbled over the word, her face turning an even deeper shade of rose. “And then I weep all over you, and you do not even know my name.”

“And I do not know yours either,” he pointed out reasonably. “I am Cain.”

“Anastasia,” she breathed softly. “The point is… you must think I have lost my mind entirely.”

“Well, I will admit, the thought did cross my mind,” he replied with a dry, low chuckle.

She gave him a look of mock indignation, her eyes flashing, and he quickly shook his head, raising his hands in surrender.

“Peace, little one, I am only teasing you. Look, why do you not simply tell me exactly what is wrong? Perhaps together we can find a way through this darkness.”

Anastasia looked up at him, her deep emerald eyes wide with genuine astonishment and confusion.

“I do not understand… why are you being so gentle with me? Why are you not throwing me out into the street?”

Cain let out a long, exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Why was he doing this? Logic told him this girl was nothing but trouble, wrapped up in white robes and ancient magic. The last thing he needed was the Priestesses of the Moon hunting him down; their powers were legendary and terrible, forces that even his Lycan would think twice before challenging. He should steer clear. He should leave.

But the Wolf inside would not allow it. The beast pushed at his mind, urging him forward, demanding that he listen, that he help. It sensed something rare about her, something precious and unique.

And against every warning bell ringing in his head, Cain felt the same pull.

“Because once, a long time ago, someone showed kindness to me when I had nothing and no one,” he said finally, his voice growing quiet and heavy with memory as he thought of his beloved master. 'Also, my Beast likes you,' he added silently to himself. The creature was practically vibrating with interest now, insistent that they protect her and learn her secrets. If that was what the Lycan wanted, then that was what they would do.

“Now,” he said, fixing her with a steady, intense gaze. “Tell me everything about this curse. And do not leave out a single detail.”