Cursed in Love (Nora Moss Book 1) Page 2

His warm breath brushes the bare skin on my neck, and I shiver at the sensation. I’m hyperaware of everything, and his presence by my side is the only reason I don’t bolt for the door.

  “I’ll help you hide the body,” I whisper back.

  The experience at the door scared me more than I want to admit. Levi and I have dealt with some nasty curses in places so thickly warded with magic, it took all our combined skill to break through, and I’d thought we were ready for this job. Our recovery record for artifacts is one hundred percent, and we’ve been getting so many offers lately that we’ve had to start turning them down. We’ve been building our reputation one mission at a time, and we’ve never left a customer dissatisfied.

  But I wonder…are we really good enough to win this?

  There’s no going back, though. From the gloomy vestibule, we walk right into the great hall of the medieval castle, where several dozen witches are chatting over cocktails and hors d’oeuvres passed around by liveried waiters. A string quartet is playing a melody I know but can’t put a name to, and several couples are gliding across the flagstone floor, waltzing.

  “Don’t eat or drink anything,” Levi cautions me quietly.

  I dip my chin in answer, not wanting to be overheard. We walk farther into the room. The ruined shell of the castle hides a luxurious interior, with opulent gold-framed paintings that should probably hang in the National Gallery and low red velvet couches in the corners. We take up space next to a high bar table covered with an expensive-looking silk tablecloth. Levi leans an elbow on it, and he somehow seems right at home in this strange, fancy place, despite his shaved hair and septum piercing.

  “Can I offer you a drink?”

  A waiter materializes from behind us, and I jump, then try to play it off as a shrug.

  “Champagne,” Levi says in his most commanding tone, and receives a tall crystal flute.

  I do the same, then set the glass on the table so I don’t accidentally take a sip because I’m so nervous. I admit that having a small drink would help with the nerves, but I need my wits sharp tonight.

  “Do you know anyone?” I mutter to Levi and try to casually sweep the room with my gaze. “Anyone that could blow our cover?”

  He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, then gives me a dazzling, broad smile. “Laugh like you’re having fun. Everyone’s watching.”

  I look him right in the eyes, tip my head to the side, and let out what I hope is a merry—not hysterical—laugh. “So much for coming in unnoticed.”

  Levi’s green gaze darkens as he glances at something over my shoulder. “There’s a guy who won’t take his eyes off you.” He pretends to take a swallow of the champagne, then sets his glass down and offers me his hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”

  I gape at him. “What?”

  With an impatient click of his tongue, he takes my hand and tugs me to the edge of the dance floor. His hand finds my waist, and I instinctively put mine on his shoulder. He pauses for a second, then moves toward me with the rhythm of the music, and I step backward. Some dormant part of my brain must remember the steps I learned before senior prom in the hopes that I’d get to waltz the night away with my boyfriend at that time—even though I was setting myself up for disappointment. He’d gotten drunk with his pals and left me sitting on the gym bleachers with the rest of the abandoned dates.

  But Levi can dance. His movements are confident, his grip on me strong but fluid, and we glide across the floor as though we’ve done this a hundred times.

  “Relax,” he murmurs against my hair, “and don’t look at your feet.”

  I glance up to glare at him, but he’s holding me tightly, so I only get a glimpse of his clean-shaven jaw and soft earlobe. Up close, he smells divine, and I wonder if he put on aftershave. He usually has a week’s worth of stubble going, and when we’re on a job, camping in remote places where running water is scarce, he never fusses with this kind of stuff.

  But then, neither do I. My usual hairstyle is a sensible braid or messy bun, not this sleek vibe that took me an hour to perfect, and I only put lipstick on for special occasions. We’re both out of our comfort zones tonight and playing our roles well. This dance is just a performance for the witches gathered around us, nothing more, even though it leaves me breathless.

  Levi twirls me around the room, and I catch sight of a man standing at the edge of the shadows, his tall, broad frame only half-lit by another torch mounted on the wall. His blond hair is combed back, showing off the chiseled perfection of his cheekbones, and I can’t quite make out the color of his eyes. But he’s staring straight at me, his thick eyebrows furrowed in a frown. He’s one of the youngest people here and seems just slightly out of place in the castle. I can’t quite put my finger on it—but a strange sense of kinship sparks in my chest at the sight of him.

  Levi and I turn, and I take a shaky breath. “When you said someone was looking at me, did you mean the tall guy in the corner?”

  “Mm. He’s weird. You know him?”

  I shake my head in answer. If I ever saw a man like that, I’d remember him for sure.

  Another turn, and I catch the man’s gaze again. Now his mouth, half hidden by his short beard, pulls to the side in a smirk, and his focus shifts just slightly to the side and down, until I’m sure he’s checking out Levi’s ass.

  Well.

  Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I tear my gaze away. “Don’t look now,” I tell Levi, “but he’s staring at you, not me.”

  A middle-aged couple waltzes past us, the man swinging his partner in wild circles. We move to the side to avoid a direct collision. When I glance back at the corner where that blond guy stood, he’s gone. I don’t want to appear like I’m searching for him, though, so I focus on other guests instead.

  I notice a pair of dark-haired witches at another bar table, and my step falters. I nearly trip, and Levi’s hands tighten on me. He catches me just in time.

  “Crap,” I curse under my breath.

  Levi, to his credit, doesn’t stop waltzing. He moves back a little and squints down at me. “What?”

  “I saw someone I know,” I whisper. “Two witches from Brazil, and they know my real name.”

  I met Aline and Helena in the heart of the Amazonian rainforest just days before my mom died, and they helped me return to Manaus so I could catch a plane back to the States. We weren’t close friends, but we’ve chatted online a couple of times in the past two years.

  “Fuck.” Levi twirls us to the side and stops near the entrance to the hall. “Do we need to abort?”

  Grimacing, I assess what I know of the women. “I don’t know. We better go talk to them before they have a chance to rat us out by accident.”

  A muscle twitches in his jaw as he offers me his arm. “If things go to shit, blow something up like we discussed.”

  I nod, even though the last thing I want is to cause a fire in a castle housing a world-renowned library. The thought of all that magical knowledge lost has me breaking out in nervous sweat. Pasting a smile on my face, I steer Levi toward the Brazilian witches’ table.

  They both turn to us, and their expressions are almost comically easy to read before they collect themselves. Recognition. Surprise. Confusion. Then friendly smiles that I can only hope are genuine.

  “Hi,” I greet them. “It’s good to see you again.”

  The taller of the two women, Aline, swoops in to kiss my cheeks. “Nora. How have you been?”

  “Great, thanks,” I reply. “Aline, Helena, this is Levi, my partner.”

  A second later, I realize I should have introduced him as James O’Sullivan. I am so off my game, it isn’t even funny. If I don’t pull my shit together, I’m going to get us both killed.

  Levi snorts quietly and nods at the witches. “A pleasure.”

  I never told Levi the full story of how I met these two women. He gets funny about my safety sometimes, which is why I didn’t go into the details of how close I came to dying on that Brazilian trip searchi
ng for a rare type of fern that could have helped ease my mom’s condition.

  Aline looks from me to him. “Why didn’t you tell me you received the invitation as well?”

  Straight to the point. There’s no use in lying, not when they’ll likely hear our assumed names when the ceremony begins.

  I lower my voice and lean closer to her. “We, um, didn’t.”

  Her dark eyebrows go up at this. “Oh?”

  Fuck, I really should have planned for this. But with so many witches in the world, the chance of meeting someone we know was incredibly slim, and we had no way of knowing who else had received an invite. We’ve been climbing the ranks of the magical community, sure, but we’ve never played with the high-ballers before. I didn’t know Aline and Helena were in this league, either.

  I throw a furtive glance over my shoulder to make sure no one else is close enough to hear us, and drop Levi’s hand to grip Aline’s instead. “We stole the invitation. I need access to the library, and this is the only way. Please, please don’t bust us.”

  Helena puts a hand on her partner’s shoulder and rubs her thumb over her skin. Her midnight-black curls fall to her bare shoulders, and she’s magnificent in a forest-green halter dress. “Aline…”

  The women communicate silently, and Aline finally turns back to us with a grim smile.

  Her gaze cuts to Levi. “I know enough about her,” she says, inclining her head toward me, “to suspect that she’s doing this to help someone else. Why are you here?”

  In Levi’s green eyes, I see questions I can’t answer, not right now. I take his arm again and give his biceps a gentle squeeze.

  Please.

  He focuses on Aline again. “I’m Nora’s backup, ma’am. I go where she goes.”

  For a moment, I stare up at him. Is this how he views our relationship? That I run things, and he follows? It’s not at all true, except maybe this case, this competition, has taken over my life so completely in the past months that I’ve forgotten to ask what he wants.

  Crap. When we get out of this ceremony, we need to have a long chat about how we’re going to proceed.

  “I’ll choose different locations than you,” I say desperately. “If you tell me where you want to go, I’ll make sure we’re not in your way.”

  The three magical trials we’ll have to complete will take place all around the world. Each team in this room will get to choose their own destinations, and we can only hope that none of the more experienced, lethal competitors will choose the same as us.

  After a beat, Aline says, “Fine. But you’re playing a dangerous game, darling.”

  I breathe a shuddering sigh of relief. “I know.”

  Helene smiles at me. “You wouldn’t be in our way,” she says kindly. “But that’s nice of you.”

  Aline, however, narrows her eyes with a calculating smile. “I have another condition.”

  I swallow thickly. Whatever she says, we’re in no position to refuse her. “Okay.”

  “If you win, you will find us one spell from the library. No questions asked.”

  I blink. “That’s it?”

  Her smile grows wider. “That’s it. It means our chances are now better for getting what we want.”

  Levi rubs a hand over his chin. “You’re doing all of this for a single spell?”

  Aline’s expression softens, and she looks at Helena. “Yes, we are.”

  “Deal,” I say. “Do we need to spell it?”

  Helena shakes her head. “No, Nora. Just don’t get killed.”

  I snort. “Ditto.” Then I remember my initial proposal. “Hey, where are you two headed anyway?”

  Aline plucks a small square of paper from her clutch. “Let’s see. We debated going to Uluru, but the flight to Australia alone would take us a day, so we’re going to try and get three locations that aren’t too far apart,” she says. “In the end, we picked São Paulo, Ciudad de México, and San Diego.”

  I grimace. San Diego was on our list as well, simply because it’s the only known location in the States. We gathered as much information as we could about the competition, and we researched our chosen locations ahead of time, but there might be others we don’t know about yet.

  I’d be stupid to discount the advantage we’d have by knowing at least something about the city—and we might even get support from the local coven. I wasn’t exactly counting on that, seeing as one of my online friends, a tech witch who calls herself Princess, escaped a terrible family situation in San Diego, but you never know. We might have gotten lucky.

  But a deal is a deal, so I mentally cross the only US location off my list and promise Aline and Helena I’ll pick three different locations.

  “Good luck,” I tell them. “We probably won’t see each other before the end of the games.”

  Helena swoops in and gives me a jasmine-scented hug. “Don’t get killed.”

  My throat gets suddenly tight, but I manage to croak, “We won’t. Promise.”

  Aline’s words about traveling give me pause, though. We’ve been planning on doing San Diego, Kuala Lumpur, and Athens, because we’ve done jobs in both Malaysia and Greece before, but she’s right: traveling all around the globe will severely limit our time. If we stick to a single continent, we’ll cut our traveling time in half, and we’ll have more room to figure out how to collect our prizes.

  But if we pick European places only… They’ll be the most difficult tasks of all, I’m sure of it. The local witches will help with securing the sites, and European covens are known as the worst. Besides, most of the contestants will flock there because they’ll be thinking exactly like us. Unless…

  Unless we choose Egypt.

  I glance at Levi, chewing on my lip. He’ll kill me if I pick that location without discussing it with him, but he doesn’t know what I know.

  If only I had a moment to think this through. There’s a good reason I gave up on the only Egyptian acquaintance I ever had, and I’ve never told Levi about that. He only saw the aftermath of that decision, and he’d been the one to pick up the pieces of me and put them back together one small kindness at a time.

  But I’m reasonably sure no one here will pick Egypt if they can help it—so we’d have the freedom of taking our time with the enchantments without worrying someone would hex us while we’re busy.

  We part with Aline and Helena, and I take Levi’s arm again as we make our way around the dance floor and back to the table we first occupied.

  “Listen,” I whisper to him. “I have an idea.”

  He looks at me. “Uh-oh.”

  I nudge his ribs with an elbow. “Be serious. It’s a terrible idea, and you’ll probably hate me, but I need you to trust me and not freak out, okay?”

  He stops and stares me down. I don’t want to meet his gaze, but his eyes are too piercing—he knows I’m hiding something. It’s a curse sometimes, having someone know you so well.

  “What is it?” he asks. “If it’s too dangerous, I won’t let—”

  “Excuse me.” A deep, rumbling voice interrupts our quiet conversation. “Can I have this dance?”

  Three

  Nora

  We both whirl around to find that handsome blond man standing in front of us. Levi is tall—but this guy has another inch or two on him, and he’s broad-shouldered enough to look like a freaking boulder. If boulders dressed in beautiful bespoke suits and crisp Italian shirts.

  Up close, his eyes are a disconcerting pale blue, a color I’ve never seen on a human or a witch, and he has a sort of academic vibe about him. I have no idea why I’m suddenly seeing tweed jackets and smelling chalk around him, but it’s like an impression of his presence. Sensing auras or divination have never been my witchy superpowers, but something is definitely sparking my sixth sense here. It instantly puts me at ease, which is terrible, because I really shouldn’t be letting my guard down at all tonight.

  “What?” I say stupidly, tearing my gaze away from him to cast a quick glance at Levi.
>
  My partner is frowning, his dark eyebrows furrowed.

  “I said, can I have this dance,” the man repeats, looking from me to Levi and back.

  “Which one of us are you asking?” Heat rises up my neck, but I have to ask—before I make a fool of myself by assuming he’s here for me.

  A corner of his mouth twitches up beneath his beard, and his eyes twinkle in amusement. “I meant you,” he says in his accented English. “For now.”

  Levi chokes on a laugh, and I glance over to find him blushing. It’s such a rare sight—nothing fazes him, ever—that I smile despite myself.

  “Sure,” I say and take the hand the man offers me.

  Before Levi can object, the stranger twirls me into a turn, and we’re off, gliding over the dance floor with grace that’s completely incongruous given the size of this man. He holds me close, one warm hand wrapped around mine and the other pressed between my shoulder blades. His palms are hot against my skin, hot enough that I wonder whether he’s running a fever. Or maybe it’s just my reaction to him. I hope he doesn’t think my skin is clammy.

  I can’t help but notice that he smells good—fresh and clean, like a sea breeze, with no hint of chalk or other scholarly smells I’d associate with a professor. I snort quietly, then try to cover it up, because I’m pretty sure my brain is overexcited.

  He stares down at me, not saying anything, and I can’t hold his gaze for long. His pale eyes are so piercing, I’m afraid of what he’ll see in my expression. No matter how charmingly he invited me to dance, he’s a competitor. He’s here to take my prize away from me, just like every other person in this room apart from Levi.

  “So, Mr. Stranger, I don’t even know your name,” I say, keeping my voice level despite the fact that my hand’s sweating in his hold.

  His grip on me tightens as we head into another turn, avoiding a row of tall chairs. “Isak Einarsson. Pleased to meet you.”

  I add up his accent, appearance, and name, and ask, “Are you Norwegian?”

  With a small smile, he shakes his head. “Close. I’m from Iceland.”