Cursed

Chapter 24

His lips barely brushed mine, as if he wanted to test out what would happen. I didn’t dare move.

Because nothing happened, he pressed forward. Gentle and soft, then hard and hungry as the kiss deepened.

My world exploded.

Little shivers of pleasure and panic shot through me. I needed to stop, but I couldn’t pull myself away, couldn’t focus on anything other than how wonderful his lips felt against mine.

And when he pressed me onto my back, I was lost in this madness. Any memories of kissing were blown away. My body sparked alive; my heart swelled and thundered. Blood flowed to every part of me.

A fine tremor shifted through Hayden, but he kept kissing me. His hand slipped to my shoulder, slid down to my hip. I wasn’t thinking anymore, just acting. My hand crept from his chest to the back of his neck. I pulled him closer.

He made a strangled sort of sound against my mouth and jerked. A heart-stopping second, and then all the strategic parts of our bodies met, and whatever control I had left snapped. Both of his hands had dropped to my hips and I wrapped my legs around him. My pulsed pounded and my skin burned, but I didn’t mind.

Twenty seconds of kissing, of touching, maybe a little more.

Then it happened.

Hayden tore his lips from mine and reared back, breaking my hold. Veins bulged and pulsed on the exposed expanse of his neck.

“Hayden…?” My breath came out in short gasps.

He shook his head and rested his hands on his knees. “I just… need a minute, okay?”

I nodded and wrapped my arms around myself. The poison in my touch still had gotten to him. Plants were one thing, but humans must still be up in the air. Then something else struck me. “Why didn’t you drain my touch?”

His hands unclenched. “I won’t do that…. again.”

“Dammit, Hayden. I could’ve killed you!” I came to my knees in front of him. “God, I’m… sorry. I shouldn’t have let you do that.”

“No. Don’t be sorry. I’m not. We… we just have to be… more careful.”

“You want to kiss me again? After that?”

“Yeah, I want to do it again. This… all of this is progress.” He stopped, a small smile spreading across his face. “Maybe I could. I mean, it took a while for your touch to kick in. And you didn’t kill the plant.”

“Well, I could concentrate then.”

Hayden laughed softly. “Maybe one day you’ll be able to.”

Concentrating on anything other than kissing him while, well, kissing him, didn’t seem likely.

“Anyway,” he said, grabbing my arms and pulling me right up against him, chest to chest. “For now, we’ll just work around it.”

Before I could even ask what that meant, Hayden kissed me again. This time he pulled back every couple of seconds, leaving me breathless. Soon, I realized he was timing the kisses, pulling away before my touch kicked in. He exhibited far more control than anyone, including himself, ever gave him credit for.

Hayden sat back, pulling me into his lap. “This is working.”

I looped my arms around his neck, careful to not touch his skin. “Mmm-hmm.”

He chuckled deep in his throat, and then put his mouth on mine again. He pushed it to the limit, stopping only after the first tremor racked his body, and God, it was like sweet torture. Just when I thought I’d come right out of my skin, he’d pull back, breathing just as heavily as me.

“Em, do you know how long I’ve wanted to be this close to you—to kiss you?” His voice was rough, thick.

I pressed my cheek against his chest, inhaling his scent. “As long as I have?”

“Longer,” he murmured, working his fingers into my hair and tipping my head back. “You’re so beautiful to me.”

“Beautiful?”

“Yes,” he said so seriously. “Your lips, your cheeks, your eyes… I find everything about you beautiful. Your strength, the way you care for your sister…” His gaze dropped, and I shivered. “I admire your control. Your willpower. Everything. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

My heart seemed to take over everything. I crushed my mouth to his, immersed in the thrill of his lips against mine. I don’t know how long we did this or how many different places his lips touched before he’d pull away, take a moment, and then start all over. I felt feverish, alive, and… and something far, far stronger than anything I’d ever felt in my life.

Sometime later, I was wrapped in the bed sheet and Hayden lay beside me, that clever mind of his finding a way to hold me without really touching. He stayed above the covers, one arm and leg thrown over me. Every so often, he’d brush my hair back and I’d snuggle in closer.

“Ember?”

Tipping my head back, I opened my eyes so I could see him. He looked terribly serious. “What?”

“I really am sorry for not believing you,” he said quietly. “I won’t doubt you again.”

“It’s all right. It’s over now.” But it really wasn’t over. Phoebe may’ve been responsible for the stuff in the locker, but she hadn’t been behind the accident that started all of this. But right now, curled up in the closest thing to being in Hayden’s arms, I didn’t want to think about that.

“When’s Santa coming?” Olivia asked for probably the hundredth time in the last hour. Phoebe glanced up from her magazine, actually smiling.

I yawned. “At the end of the parade, Olivia. You know that. It’s the same every year.”

She walked her Barbie doll over to where I sprawled across the floor. “I wanna see Santa now!”

“So do I.” I picked the doll up and inched it back toward her.

“Have you written a list for Santa yet?” Gabe asked, surprising the hell out of me. “You know, telling him what you want?”

Olivia whirled on Gabe, launching into a rather detailed description of the toys she wanted while I closed my eyes and replayed last night over and over again. Nothing could take the smile off my face or stop the somersaults that kept occurring below my navel.

Last night had been wonderful. Perfect.

And apparently, the happy feeling clouded any sense of judgment I had, because when Liz asked me to help her with the stuffing, I agreed.

We stood side by side at the kitchen island. I wished I’d had the forethought of tucking my hair back before sinking my bare hands into the mix of bread, egg, butter, and milk.

“Did you used to do this with your mother?” Liz asked after a couple of minutes.

I squashed my hands around, feeling egg ooze through my fingers. “Yeah, but we… we used to do it the night before.”

“And stuff the turkey then, too?”

I nodded. “I used to eat the stuffing when Mom wasn’t looking, but the last time—when I was fourteen —she saw me eating it. Said I’d get salmonella or something.”

She laughed softly. “Do you think it needs more onions? Bread?”

“Sure.” Not that I had a clue, really, but I think she asked to make me feel like I’d contributed.

Liz reached into the bowl—carefully avoiding my hands—and plucked out a small ball of mixed stuffing. She raised her brows at me.

“Want some?”

I stared at her a moment, then decided what the hell. I opened my mouth and she tossed the little ball.

I missed the first one, second, and third. By the fourth try, when the ball actually went into my mouth, we both were laughing and stuffing slime covered my chin.

“You know,” Liz said, crumbling up chunks of bread and adding them in. “I think your mother hears you when you talk to her.”

I looked up from the bowl. “How do you know I talk to her?”

She smiled, fine lines spreading out from the corners of her sloe-colored eyes. “I’ve heard you a few times. I think it’s good you do that. She’s still in there.”

“Do you really think so?”

Liz nodded solemnly. “Yes, I do.”

“Think what?” Hayden asked, sauntering into the kitchen.

I froze beside Liz; all rational thought flew right out my head. I didn’t even need to look in a mirror to know my cheeks were turning a bright red.

“Nothing, just me running my mouth,” Liz said, laughing softly. “We’re making stuffing. Want to help?”

Hayden propped himself against the island, close enough that I could feel him smile. “I think you guys got it handled.”

I stole a quick glance at him. He wore a simple, black shirt and jeans, but he looked amazing. He nudged my leg with his, earning a grin.

A sudden squeal broke the silence, followed by, “Santa! Santa!”

I turned back to the stuffing, mashing it together. “That would be Olivia.”

Liz laughed. “I have to see this. Do you think you can finish it up?”

“Yes.” I nodded and blew a curl out of my face. It fell right back.

She hurried from the room, wiping her hands on her apron. My eyes followed her, silently acknowledging that she really did care for Olivia. “As much as it pains me to say this, she really is good for Olivia.”

“And who is good for you?” Hayden asked, moving behind me, trailing quick kisses over the curve of my shoulder.

My breath caught. “I think… you know the answer to that.”

Hayden placed his hands on my hips, pulling me back against him. “Hmm, maybe you should show me?”

“I’m making stuffing, so you better—” He placed lips against the side of my neck, then behind my ear.

“Oh…”

He laughed and pulled away, leaving one hand on my back. “Need help?”

“Sure.”

“Good.” Hayden tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.

We finished up with the stuffing, laughing and talking about nothing in particular. Every so often, Hayden became distracted. He’d stop, give me a quick kiss or brush my hair back. I think it took us a little longer than necessary to get it in the turkey.

I was washing the gunk off my hands and Hayden sat on the counter beside me when his father walked in. If anyone could kill my buzz, it was Cromwell.

“Liz tells me you two are making the stuffing. I really didn’t believe it.”

“What? I have a bit of the chef in me.” Hayden smiled.

Drying off my hands, I turned around. “He was helping.”

Cromwell raised a brow. “You can’t even boil an egg, son.” He paused. “Or toast bread without burning it.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “Nice.”

Hayden frowned at me. “I can toast bread.”

“You tried to shove a fork in the toaster to get your bread out—that was only a few years ago.”

“Oh. Wow.” I grinned at Hayden.

“Thanks, Dad.” Hayden pushed himself off the counter.

Cromwell smiled at him as he walked to the oven, and I seriously believe he was checking out the stuffing.

Hayden tugged on my sleeve and nodded at the back door. He mouthed outside.

I nodded, immediately looking away when Cromwell turned around. “So, what are you two getting yourselves into now that you’ve proven you both can cook?”

Hayden shrugged. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”

“Up late last night?” he asked innocently.

My eyes widened as I stared at the floor, but Hayden sounded unfazed. “Yeah, I stayed up late watching TV.”

“What are you doing, Ember?”

“Huh?” My head jerked up. “Oh. Now—I think I’m gonna go sketch.”

“Well, we have dinner at three. I expect both of you to be here.” His gaze fell on Hayden. Cromwell smiled, but it never quite reached his eyes. “Before you run off, Hayden, I’d like to talk to you for a moment.”

I headed for the door, worry gnawing at my stomach. As I went to my bedroom, I could hear Liz and Olivia’s giggles mingling in with the male voices. I pulled on a hoodie and a pair of gloves before grabbing my sketchpad and a pencil.

Taking the route farthest from the kitchen, I slipped out the front door. I felt a little bit guilty about not spending time with Olivia. It used to be just us, and for two years, there wasn’t the smell of turkey or so much laughter.

I convinced myself she was okay while I waited in the chilly air for Hayden to appear. He showed up five minutes later, a wide smile across his face. Bright sunlight broke through the trees, casting a halo around his head.

“Aren’t you cold?” He hadn’t even put on a sweater.

“Nah.” Hayden held out his hand.

I stuck the sketchpad under my arm and took his hand. “Where’re we going? The cabin?”

“I thought we could take a walk.”

“Okay.” I let him lead me into the woods. A chorus of dead leaves crunched under our feet. “What did Cromwell want?”

“He wanted to know what we were up to.” He held a branch back.

“What? Does he know about…” I couldn’t say “last night.”

“No.” He sent a reassuring smile over his shoulder. “He just wondered what was up, I guess. I told him we were making stuffing.”

“He still doesn’t want you around me, does he? He’s worried you’ll get hurt.”

Hayden looked away. “I don’t think he really thinks about it anymore.”

I raised my brows.

“Seriously, I think he knows I like you and nothing is going to change that. He’s coming around. So it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” I didn’t believe him, not in a million years.

“Yes.” He squeezed my hand. “Let’s not worry about him right now, because later—after dinner—I’m seriously going to take a nap.”

“It’s something in turkey,” I told him.

“Tryp-a-something, right?”

We’d stopped walking, and I wasn’t sure how far we’d gone. The sun barely broke through the canopy of branches out here, if that was any indication. Hayden circled his arms around my waist and pulled me forward. I came all too willingly.

“So why did you want to come out here?” I asked.

Instead of telling me why, he showed me—with his lips, his hands. And eventually we were on a pile of fallen leaves, testing just how far we could go. Breathless and a bit dazed, I rested atop his chest, running my fingers down the side of his face.

“Take off the gloves,” he demanded.

“No. It’s too much.” That was something we had learned last night. If a lot of skin touched, then, well, my. gift went into overdrive.

He tipped his head back and sighed. “Later, then.”

I smiled and dropped a kiss on the middle of his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He snuck a hand under my sweater and splayed it across my shirt. “Anything.”

“What made you decide last night to be okay with…?”

“I like it when you blush. Brings out your eyes.”

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”

He chuckled as he tucked a strand of my hair back with his free hand. “I realized I wouldn’t lose control. Not with you. I…” He stopped, smiled slyly. “I just wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

I could tell there was more to it. “And you believed I wouldn’t hurt you?”

“I never believed you’d lose control, Em.” He reached up and threaded his fingers through my hair.

“You’re good inside, better than any of us.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. I looked away, not wanting him to see how hearing him say that affected me.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, chewing on my lip. “It’s just that… that was really nice.”

His hand drifted out of my hair and fell to my hand. “Will you answer a question for me?” When I nodded, he continued. “What do you draw? Can I look?”

I rolled off him and grabbed for my sketchpad, but Hayden was just so much faster. “Hayden—don’t —you—dare!” He had the creased pad in his graceful hands—hands I had sketched. Oh, God. “Don’t open it!”

He glanced up with a grin. “What’s in it, Em?”

“Just stuff—look, no one has ever seen my sketches.”

“No one? Then I’d be honored if you’d let me see.”

Groaning, I ran a hand through my hair. “I suck. They’re really bad. You don’t want to see it.”

“Your cheeks are blood-red again,” he pointed out, settling back down on his arm.

“Yeah, well, then you shouldn’t look at it.”

“If it really bothers you, I won’t look at them.” He offered me the pad.

I stared at it. One last secret—maybe, and what? Our eyes met as I took it back from him. My drawings were private stuff, like a reflection of my innermost thoughts. Allowing someone to see them was like standing naked in front of a crowd, opening up in a way I’ve never considered. Then I remembered how he’d looked when he’d seen my scars for the first time. He hadn’t stared at them. He looked at my face, and not because he couldn’t bear to look at them, but because he hadn’t cared. They hadn’t mattered to him.

Making up my mind, I thumbed open the sketchpad after a few tries. The gloves made it difficult.

“These… these were before the accident. Flowers, landscapes, and this was Sushi.”

Hayden sidled over to my side at some point. He peered at the mashed-up nose and squinted stare.

“Wow. That was an ugly cat.”

I laughed softly, flipped to another page. “Dad.”

He stopped my hand before I could turn the page. “He looks like a kind man.”

I traced my fingers over the picture. I had drawn it from memory and it’d taken several tries to get the line of his jaw correct, and the slight bump in his nose. “He was.”

“Em, I’m really sorry about your dad.”

Swallowing, I nodded and turned another page. “This, of course, is Olivia and Mom. These are—”

“Seneca Rocks, Em, you’re really good. I mean it.”

“I don’t know. The edges could be softer, not so bleak and hard.”

He reached across me and turned the pages. He’d make a comment, brush his fingers over the drawing, and then flip to another page. When he came across the sketch I’d done of his hands, I don’t think he realized who they belonged to, but there was no stopping him.

I closed my eyes as he turned to the first sketch of him. He didn’t say anything. I don’t even think he breathed. All I could hear was the sound of him slowly going from page to page.

“When did you draw these?” he asked, his voice rough.

“The first one a couple of days after getting here, and the rest were over time.” I rubbed my hand under my chin and finally looked at him. He had this awestruck look on his face. His eyes were wide and bright, lips parted just enough to show a bit of teeth. “What?”

“I didn’t expect that.”

“It’s kind of creepy, huh?” I closed the pad and tossed it aside. “I don’t mean for it to be. You just have this face that’s all lines and curves. I… I had to draw it. I hope—” His mouth cut me off, stopping whatever lame excuse I was about to give. He leaned into me, deepening the kiss until I swam in the ecstasy of his mouth.

Hayden broke away reluctantly, easing down on his back. He stared up through the branches, his expression oddly pensive.

“Are you okay? Did… did I hurt you?”

“No,” he said quickly, finding my hand and squeezing it. “Do you want to know why I trust my father so much? Why I know he could never do anything to hurt you?”

Not the conversation I really wanted to have right now, but I nodded. “Okay.”

A brief smile pulled at his lips. “When I say he saved my life, I’m not exaggerating. Not just once, but twice. The first time was when he found me in foster care. If he hadn’t found me, I don’t think I would’ve survived.”

I sat back, still holding his hand. I didn’t dare speak, giving him the opportunity to continue.

“Things were bad. There were days when I didn’t get to eat. And if I was caught sneaking food? The beatings were… intense. And at first, things were better—so much better—at the Facility. Then they started this thing called the Assimilation Program, and I was a candidate for it. At first, Cromwell didn’t know all that the program entailed. It was headed up by Doctor Ishtar.” He paused, eyes squinting. “They used every possible method you can think of, Ember. Exposure therapy at its finest.”

“Exposure therapy?”

He nodded. “Because kids like me were having trouble controlling our gifts when we were, well, just about any time, the doctors would create high-stress scenarios that would provoke our gifts over and over until we became desensitized to the triggers. Some of the things they did would blow your mind.”

I wanted to ask what. Maybe it was just morbid fascination, but somehow common sense prevailed.

“How long were you in the program?”

“Long enough,” he answered, sliding his hand out of mine. “When my father saw what it was doing to me—literally driving me crazy—he pulled me out and we came here. Since then, the Facility and Dr.

Ishtar swear they’ve changed the program. I know he said he’d send you there, but, Ember, he never would. Even though the Assimilation Program works, it’s horrible. The things I had to do… “ He trailed off for several long moments. “Anyway, he would never do that.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Hayden tipped his head toward me and smiled. “Because he knows if that happened to you, it would hurt me.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, Hayden. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Well, it’s over now.” His smile slipped away and he reached for me. “How much time do we have until dinner?”

“About two and half hours.”

“Hmm.” Then he tugged on my sweater, pulling me down so his mouth could reach mine. “Not enough time at all.”