Curse And Craving

55

Terror gripped me. This man was crazy enough to kill me. Lochlan’s knife was in my purse downstairs, but even if I had it, I didn’t think I had enough strength to defeat Ronan. I still wore Cat’s bracelet, but it only seemed to defend against a single assault aimed at the bracelet. I closed my eyes and searched for the feeling of power I’d conjured that morning when I’d removed the necklace. If there was any remnant of power left inside me, I couldn’t find it. I was on my own. “I know it's here. Where is it?” he growled savagely, still tearing apart my bedroom. I had landed with my back to him, propped on my elbows with my hair pooling on the floor. Without warning, the little Brownie appeared just inches from my face, hidden within the protective halo of my hair. He reached his hands forward and presented me with my necklace. He’d brought me a weapon. He was trying to save me. My mind became laser-focused. I took hold of the stone pendant, and the surge of power that rocketed through me was a shot of adrenaline straight to my heart. The Brownie blinked away to safety the second he’d completed his task. I inhaled a lungful of air, dropping my head back as I basked in the swell of energy. Without a care to my nudity, I rose to my feet and faced Ronan. The air in the room began to swirl, carrying my hair in all directions. I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know my eyes had gone jet black. Magic thrummed in my veins, fueled by an unending supply of wrath. I embraced what my necklace had to offer me. For the first time, its power felt like a gift. Ronan turned, his eyes widening in shock. “Get out.” My voice echoed with layer after layer of magical malice. His eyes darted briefly around the room. “Look what it’s doing to you, Rebecca. You don’t want this. Just give me the necklace, and you can have your life back.” He held out his hand. “If you don’t get out right now, I’ll grab that hand and drain the life from you one agonizing second at a time. Get. Out.” His jaw clenched in bitter defeat. Any other day, he might have won in a battle against me, but not today. Not when he’d brought out the savage in me. A snarl marred his pretty face an instant before he vanished. I didn’t let down my guard for several long minutes. Eventually, the magical breeze died down, and my adrenaline ebbed. I sank to the floor, the necklace still clenched tightly in my hand. My gaze drifted over the chaos of my bedroom. Drawers pulled open, and their contents spilled on the floor. Picture frames shattered. The window blinds bent and broken. My home had been vandalized. Violated. And I lay at its center, naked and alone. For the second time in two days, I cried. Sobs tore from my throat as reality caught up with me. As I processed the extreme betrayal I’d suffered and how close I’d come to dying. Warring emotions ravaged what was left of my battered psyche. Relief. Hatred. Gratitude. Shame. I snatched random articles of clothing from the floor around me, covering myself as I wept. I cried tears of frustration over being deceived. Tears of rage for my feelings of helplessness. Tears of relief that I wasn’t dead. Tears of disappointment that the moment I thought I had shared with Lochlan had been a sham. And tears of acceptance that the necklace was a permanent part of my life moving forward. Ronan's vile deception highlighted the ugly truth that I was a part of this Fae world, whether I wanted to be or not. The only thing I accomplished by removing my necklace was making myself vulnerable. If I had any chance of surviving—of overcoming the challenges around me—the answer lay in embracing my new existence. Mastering my abilities and facing the truth. Crawling onto my bed, I sat with my legs to my chest and regarded the necklace that was both my savior and my curse. Lochlan and the queen had said I was part Fae, but I obviously wasn’t Fae enough to wield power without the magical amulet. I hadn’t seen through Ronan’s glamour or been able to use magic against him. The necklace either amplified or focused my abilities. I needed it to survive in the Fae world. I wouldn’t be caught helpless again. I couldn’t dwell on whether the power in the necklace was malevolent because there wasn’t another option. Without it, I would be dead. My hands shook when I opened the clasp, but I didn’t let it stop me. I brought the chain around my neck, and the necklace closed of its own accord. A sense of calm and rightness settled over me. I would never let myself feel so powerless again. The images of him above me—of us kissing and touching—ran on an endless loop in my head. One particular moment caught my attention. When his head had been between my legs, and my hand fisted in his thick curls. I had been too lost in the moment to notice the discrepancy—Lochlan didn't have curls. Ronan did. His glamour worked to an extent, but when I stopped relying on my eyes, my other senses saw through the illusion. My emotions tried to turn against me. Anger that should have been directed at Ronan turned inward—both for removing the necklace and for not picking up on the fact that it hadn't been Lochlan. I slammed the door on those thoughts. I refused to let Ronan win by waging war against myself. He was the perpetrator of the crime, and he was the only one getting the blame. I would not blame myself, but what I would do was learn from the experience. Lying back in bed and pulling the covers up to my chin, I decided that it was time to learn to fight—both with magic and my fists. I would learn anything I could to arm myself. If I couldn't run from the Fae world, I would master it. No more vulnerability.