The Duke's Curse (Legend Book 2) Read online

  I saw Vivian flinch. She had accompanied me to the place where I could exchange my life. Yet it had taken its toll on her and caused her to sleep for centuries. M was the one who would stay with me in my loneliness as my mentor and friend once more.

  “I did all that I could. That included freeing you from your prison.” Her voice was ice.

  “Should I thank you? You were the one who took my love and used it to chain me away to rot.” It was M’s turn to grow heated.

  I remembered the day the man had met Vivian. He had been in awe of her. He had courted her. She had, in turn, agreed to his advances, only to shut him away for fear of what he could do.

  I knew M. M would never harm me. M raised me. Her justification I had to relent to. He wasn’t fully human, but now, neither was I, in a way. How the tables had turned.

  Tables.

  “Is it the ‘Round?” I practically flung myself across the surface of the table to Vivian. “Please tell me it involves the ‘Round.”

  How I longed to see my friends again. I needed to apologize to them all. Her sad smile told me that my mark was far from hitting the target.

  “No. No, it is not the ‘Round, yet.” Eying M once more before motioning for him to sit, she sighed. “Come. What I am about to tell you isn’t going to be easy to stomach. Nor will it be easily accepted, but it is the only way.”

  I eased myself back on my seat and tried to have an open mind as Vivian started explaining all that she had learned. The beating of my heart became a drum in my ears; the blood rushed cold through my veins. What I was hearing had to be that of my worst nightmares. I found myself gripping the sides of the tabletop to ground myself from flying into oblivious insanity.

  Vivian was watching me closely as detail after detail fell from her lips. M had removed his glasses more than once to rub the shock from his eyes.

  This couldn’t be the only way.

  There had to be another road to take. Something, anything but this!

  “Avalon. You understand what this entails?” Vivian’s voice was cautious. When I didn’t reply, she covered my hand with hers. “Knight? What is it?”

  The painful ringing in my ears was back with a violent vengeance. My gaze overlooking the lake was the only way I was staying in the present. What Vivian had told us had to be a lie. I refused to put Alexandria in the line of her greatest enemy.

  “M—I’m ... I can’t do this. I can’t allow it ...” My voice was low, breathing staggered as my consciousness began slipping.

  All this talk of a second sword was nonsense.

  The missing piece of me was empowering my enemy.

  I was helpless in this fight.

  To not succumb to this hell, I had to allow the most precious thing in my life to walk into the hands of the Devil himself. Shaking my head, I felt my balance slip as I tumbled to the earth. Darkness engulfed me again, and I stood in an abyss of my worst fears.

  I couldn’t lose her again.

  Not to him.

  Not like this.

  Six

  Alexandria

  That Friday morning, I pulled my car into the now familiar drive to Caliburn Estate. As I shifted to park, I stared at the looming castle in front of me. A strange sense of calm rested in my soul. Like it or not, I was beginning to see this fortress as a second home. Lancer kept me informed on Avalon’s condition through M updating him.

  He had several spells in my absence. Every time he blacked out, it took longer for him to wake up. No matter how much Lancer wanted to continue hating Avalon for what was happening between him and me—I knew Lancer worried for his former guardian.

  Pushing my strength in front of me ten feet, I got out of my car and walked to the front entrance. Lancer greeted me before I even got to the steps. His face was bunched with a mixture of emotions I couldn’t unravel. Instead of saying hello, he just took me in his arms and held my smaller frame.

  I felt my strength recede like the ocean recedes from the sand. Something wasn’t right. I could feel it. I felt it before I even got out of bed this morning.

  The entire estate sat like a mighty fortress, but now loomed silent like an ancient ruin. The bricks weighed with their years, and the windows cried endless reflections of the pain they had witnessed. Even the horses were quiet from their paddocks. No birds chirped in the summer heat. It felt as though someone had died.

  “Lancer, is everything all right?” I maneuvered myself out of his arms and cupped his face in my hands. “Is Avalon all right?”

  The tall, beast-like man in front of me let a sigh escape his lips. He raked a hand through unruly russet brown hair before finally looking at me.

  “Tell me. Is Avalon all right?”

  “He’s getting worse, Allie.” Forest green eyes grew tight. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “I have to see him.” My feet moved on instinct.

  Of course, I had to see him.

  I just had to see him, and he’d go back to his old self. The same irritating, arrogant, and insolent man he’d always been.

  Fingertips brushed my arm, curling so he’d trapped my slender limb in a vise. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t have to.

  “Lancer ...” Stepping back, I stood on tiptoes and kissed him deeply. His mouth crashed on mine in a helpless plea.

  Don’t walk away from me.

  I felt his fear of losing Avalon and me all in one.

  “I have to see him.” Whispering against his parted tiers, I pressed my body to his.

  “I need you, Allie.” Sorrowful eyes watched me back away. Our skin slid until it was just the pads of our fingers touching and then released.

  “I must do this.” He had to believe me. I was doing this for all of us.

  You care more than you let on.

  You care about Avalon.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t allow myself to think about Avalon and I. That wasn’t my fault. It had been a dream. Just a simple, stupid dream—nothing more and nothing less.

  Orla met me on the landing of the second staircase. Her eyes crinkled in the corners, and she just put a hand on my arm lightly. Memories caused my body to try to recoil from such a touch. People touched me like that at my parents’ funeral. People’s eyes regarded me with pity at my parents’ funeral. This wasn’t a funeral.

  I fisted my hands over and over a few times, trying to release the tension. I begged for strength now that mine was stripped, leaving me raw and vulnerable to the inevitable. I began the walk to Avalon’s chambers, holding my chin high.

  Never had that walk been so long in all of my time at Caliburn. The halls stretched out before me, taunting me with their secrets. I could feel my breathing grow more and more uneven as I drew closer. Avalon’s presence always filled this place; it was big enough to, but now—I set my jaw—there was hardly a trace of the stoic duke.

  M was sitting in a large, wingback chair outside Avalon’s room. He saw me and immediately met me a distance away from the Dragon’s lair. I forced a smile. For whose sake, I didn’t know.

  “Ms. York, it is good to see you. His Grace is indisposed and not taking visitors. He wishes you all the best and encourages you to finish your charge so that you can leave and start your life outside of Caliburn.” M’s words grew slower and more solemn as they flowed out.

  Avalon doesn’t want to see me?

  At first, the notion set a cold, sinking feeling deep in my core. It quickly turned from burning ice to blazing fire.

  I snorted. “Since when has Avalon telling me what to do ever worked? Please, M, I need to see him.” I tried to sneak past the wiry man, but his face was grim.

  “My gentle Lady, I beg of you. He has pride.” He paused. “A part of that pride is for you never to see him weak. He also doesn’t wish to frighten you. He will see you when he feels better.”

  My throat tightened. He was ordering me away. Without saying the words, he was putting space between us. He was trying to get me to leave.

  My jaw wobbled
slightly under the stubbornness of my own pride. I blinked through swells I hadn’t noticed had formed.

  “No.” I grew obstinate. “No, I will not walk away. No, I will not heed his words. I will see him. I need to see him.” Looking into M’s sea foam eyes, I felt a tear fall. “Please let me see him.”

  I heard the man sigh. He looked down and then back up at me, his mouth in a taut line but eyes understanding. He gave a small nod.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. I pushed the tears aside and tried to act as though nothing had happened.

  This was only the second time I’d been allowed into Avalon’s secret hideaway in the great castle. Well, the first time allowed—the first time I snuck in. The first room held a table, chairs, cabinets, and bookshelves. Two fireplaces on either side of the table gave an inviting air. The next room was through a tiny hall; from there, M veered right and entered the same room I had walked in on him playing the violin. The instrument lay in the safety of its case on the leather sofa. M paused outside a door, glancing at me again with wary eyes.

  “Please, my Lady,” he started in a gentle voice, “be kind. I have never seen him like this, and we are all a bit frightened.”

  Without warning or cause, my hand rested on M’s shoulder. A smile drew to my lips. Somewhere, a hidden strength was glowing.

  “I understand.”

  With a sniff, the seasoned butler opened the door and let me in without any announcement.

  My feet stepped into the unknown. I heard the heavy door shut, allowing me privacy. Everything about this room screamed grandiose. From the ornaments cut into the wood to the ornate furniture and the tapestries told stories of the fabled Knights of the Round Table; it was all so royal. Gold, silver, and finished bronze gleamed everywhere in tiny but fitting places.

  The room was dark, but a soft light came from beyond another entryway. I tried to focus on my task and not on how these rooms made even Winsor Castle look dull. I paused at the transition from dark to light.

  It was inviting but also a warning. The shadows were safe. I crossed the threshold, sending up a silent prayer.

  A large window allowed clear light to filter through. The grandiose four-poster bed loomed in the center. Drawn curtains caused me to walk around to the window side. I peeked and saw Avalon fast asleep, light splashed on his face, raven hair wild and untamed.

  My breathing hitched.

  Why God?

  Why this face?

  Why this man?

  He was truly his own work of art. I gripped the post at the foot of his bed. With his eyes closed and sleep stealing his usual frowning face, he looked young. Perfectly shaped lips were free of harsh words and seemed deemed to whisper only poetry. His usual set jaw was relaxed, allowing me to see the angles of his face better. The lines of irritation smoothed to naught, and he looked peaceful.

  My eyes dropped lower. I felt a flush cover my body and my pulse quickened. Avalon’s body was robust, solid, and athletic. Muscles along the span of his chest were well defined and inviting to the touch. I could see the broadness in his shoulders better this way. In clothes, compared to Lancer, the man was a few inches shorter and leaner. Yet here, on his own and uncovered, I found myself thinking about those restless nights of dreams we shared. His breathing was slow and even, causing his cut torso to rise and fall in time with his chest.

  The sheets hid the rest of Avalon from my view at his lower stomach. A part of me groaned inwardly. His arms were impressive. Without flexing, every cut and outline could be seen but his hands.

  Trying to stop from going closer, I found my legs rebelling once again.

  Those hands that comprised of wide, warm palms could either harm or soothe. His fingers were lithe and long and made for crafting and molding. Lightly touching his fingers, I wondered how many men he had killed. If he was as old as he said, what had they done? More importantly, my eyes flickered to what I longed to see most—the gray skies. What had he seen?

  I eased my weight onto the side of the bed. My eyes were drawn to the jagged scar over his heart. I bit my lower lip. That was what killed him.

  I looked back at his peaceful face. I suddenly noticed how long his hair was getting. Carefully, I reached out and took a small strand between my fingers. He hadn’t stirred. He was so perceptive all the time. Avalon never allowed himself this much relief.

  It’s not relief.

  He’s ill.

  A panic surged through my body. He couldn’t be sick. No. This man had a job to do. This man had to tell me what we had to do to fix everything.

  A small sound like a whimper escaped his parted lips. His brows furrowed and his face scrunched up in what I couldn’t decipher between pain and fear. His muscles rippled under the apparent onslaught. Hands fisted in the sheets. A shudder had coursed through him before a light sheen of sweat glistened over his brow.

  I tilted my head.

  What was happening to him?

  “No ... please ...” His whispers were low. I pulled my hair over my shoulder and leaned closer.

  “Don’t take her ...” His voice was a bit louder, but the sob that followed rocked me off my axis. Avalon was dreaming. My heart beat wildly in my chest.

  This man was tortured. I could sense it. It twisted my soul to see him like this. I stifled my own tears.

  I wanted to suffer in his stead.

  I wanted to ease his aches.

  I wanted to hold him.

  I wanted ...

  His head jerked to one side with an inhaled hiss. I jumped a little but stayed sitting by his side. No way was I leaving him now.

  “Please ... don’t go ...” The agony that ripped through his chest and tore into his usual velvet voice made him human. He was breaking my heart.

  His arm rose from the bed, reaching out. “Stay ...”

  I couldn’t.

  Not him.

  Not like this.

  I took his hand and pressed his palm against my cheek, seeking his warmth. I sat, watching his face smooth back from tortured to peaceful.

  “My Lady ...”

  Blinking back tears, I nodded. “I’m here, Avalon.”

  I saw his eyes flicker under his lids for the first time. His head turned to center itself. The jingle of silver bands hitting each other cut through the silence.

  My other hand bravely slid over his chest and over his scar. His heartbeat went from a steady beat to marathon speed in seconds. I heard him inhaling and exhaling through his nose at a fast rate.

  “Am I dreaming?” His eyes flickered again, his voice mumbling.

  “Are you?” I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Kiss me if it’s a dream.” The words tripped over his lips as he swallowed. “Don’t lie to my dreams. It’s a nightmare.”

  He was lucid.

  With a boldness I didn’t know I possessed, I hovered over his mouth. “And if it’s not a dream?”

  I could taste him in my mind’s eye. I remembered how he held me, how his lips molded to mine. I was playing with fire. One of us would burn.

  This version of Avalon, though, made me dizzy with inhibitions. He was everything I knew he could be in the dark. If only I could see this man in the light—no, he needed to stay in the dark.

  Before I could choose between dreams and reality, Avalon’s gray eyes fluttered open. I froze.

  Oh, no.

  His head turned slightly against the pillow, brows furrowed in confusion as he reached up to caress my cheek.

  He was awake. I was in his territory. I was inches from his mouth.

  My fingers against his chest tightened, and he inhaled. His speed was frightening. Avalon sat up with such a bolt he hit his head against the wood headboard above him.

  “Aghh ... fuck ...” He crumpled back to the pillows, holding his head.

  “Avalon, are you all right?” I reached for him, but he held out a hand.

  “I swear you are a curse all your own, woman.” His snarl was marred with childish pouting. Soon, a whimper follow
ed. He sat back up. I watched the muscles in his back flex.

  Oh, my ...

  I caught his glare over his shoulder. “Why are you here? I told M not to let you in!”

  I flinched. “I’m sorry; I just wanted to see how you were.”

  “Well, this is how I am ...” He turned, wincing, leaning back against the headboard. He caught my eyes staring at his lower abdomen. Cut muscle disappeared below low-slung sweatpants.

  I was a curse? He should look at himself!

  “Do you like what you see?”

  That arrogance.

  My eyes snapped up, pursing my lips against my mistake. A boyish smirk crossed his lips. Mussed hair fell over his eyes, a fleeting look of desire flashed through them.

  “Now you see me. Now get out.”

  The desire melted into hard steel.

  I met him with ice. “No.”

  I watched the corners of his mouth twitch as did one of his eyes. His lips turned to a sneer.

  “Just get out. I feel like shit. I don’t need the cause of my mess staring at me. Besides”—Avalon pointed a finger at me—“I thought we agreed you’d stop giving me what I want with your eyes, Ms. York. Now, get out and go back to your Lancer, or statue, or whatever.” That pointed finger turned into a nonchalant wave of dismissal. “Leave.”

  “You were dreaming of me, weren’t you?”

  My statement caught him with his mouth open. Slamming it shut, he huffed.

  “Why was I leaving?” I pressed, inching closer on the bed.

  “Just leave me ... please ...” His body language warned me to keep a distance, but his voice dropped from strong to weak.

  “That’s the exact opposite of what you were saying in your sleep.” I shook my head. “Avalon, please. What is wrong with you?” I lifted his lowered head to meet my gaze.

  He looked tired, as though the life was being pulled from him. For a fleeting moment, I saw the fear in his eyes, but he said nothing.

  I felt the tears burn my eyes again.