“So I’m not good enough for you?”
“If you are what you claim to be, then you understand how taking the life of another comes with a price.” His father had killed many men and suffered from sleepless nights. The faces of the dead never left him.
“I am offering you a new life,” she argued. “The life of a wealthy man with land, servants, and a title. I have discovered that my husband killed his brother over a quarrel about their inheritances. It was many years ago, and he has simply been telling everyone that his brother lives in France. Do you not see? I will be serving justice by ending his life, and once I do, you can take the place of his brother. No one will discover you. He is completely unknown in society, and all but one aunt, who is blind, remains alive.”
Willa had it all figured out.
“It is still wrong. I cannot.” He slid on his pants. “I must return home. Dress so I may escort you back.” She was staying with her family in their home up the hill. It was one of the nicer estates in the area, but rumors had been spreading about her father gambling away their money.
She grabbed his arm, digging in her nails. “He beats me, Damien. He drinks and blames me for our lack of children. He forces me to do the cruelest of things in the bedchamber.”
How convenient. Now she wanted to cast her husband as the villain to justify her plan. “Why have you never mentioned this before?”
“What could you do? He is miles away. You are here.”
Willa was lying. She had to be. “You claim to be a powerful witch, so then why have you not used your gifts to stop him?”
“I have my reasons.”
He stared, the moonlight pouring over her fine cheekbones and heart-shaped lips.
“If he dies, the estate will go to a fourth cousin. I would lose everything, and at the moment, I am the only source of income for my family here. I was biding my time to find a way to avoid leaving us all in the street. Now I have the solution: you.”
Damien felt torn. Perhaps she was telling the truth; however, her words smelled of more scheming. Had this been her plan all along? Lure him in with her beauty and then have him play a role in taking over her husband’s fortune? Willa knew Damien’s secret, so perhaps she intended to hold it over his head. A man she can control. He did not want to believe she was capable of such treachery, but the facts spoke for themselves. She wanted to kill her husband for his money. How much more treacherous can one get?
Not wanting to argue further, he said, “I need time to think it over, Willa.”
“I leave in two days. You must send word before then.”
She grabbed her dress and slid it over her head. She tightened the laces up the front.
“Allow me to help you with that.”
“No. I can manage on my own.” She slid on her slippers. “Two days, Damien. And do not break my heart.”
He nodded and watched her walk away. It was the last time he would ever see her beautiful face intact.
Several months later, he received a letter. The desperation and bleakness of her situation poured off the pages. She claimed to be pregnant with his child. She pleaded with Damien to come and help her. The beatings were becoming increasingly more brutal. Her husband suspected the baby was not his.
Another scheme meant to bring him to her? Or the truth?
Damien decided at the very least, he had to see her. He packed his supplies, saddled his horse, and arrived three weeks later.
The estate was grand and opulent, filled with art and fine furniture. The gardens seemed to go on forever.
Damien rang the bell, asking for Willa, but the butler informed him the master was out and the mistress was not receiving guests. He stormed inside and found her lying in her bed. Her face was unrecognizable, swollen and black and blue. She was barely breathing.
Damien felt his beast rile and his heart sink. She had been telling the truth.
“Willa?” He took her cold, battered hand. “What did he do to you?”
“You came.” She coughed with a sputter.
Damien did not know who to be more furious with, himself or the monster who did this. “I am going to take you away from here.”
She slid her hand over her stomach. “He poisoned me with something, and I could not fight back. He took my power, Damien. He took my baby, too.”
Damien pulled down the blankets to lift her. Blood was everywhere. “Get the physician!” he yelled to the servants.
“They will not bring him,” she muttered. “The servants fear my husband, and he’s ordered them to let me die.”
“Then I will take you to one.”
“It is too late.” She closed her eyes, wheezing. “Why did you not write me?”
“I—I do not know. I was a coward, and I did not understand your situation.”
“I loved you, but you did not trust me, and now our baby is dead. You are just as guilty as he, if not more.” Her breathing became erratic and choppy. “Damien Greystone, from this moment on, you will walk the earth, tormented by this day forever, never knowing the blessing of love again. That world will be closed to you. Anything you care for will die as a reminder of what you did to me.”
She closed her eyes and let out one final breath.
After that, everything was a blur. The beast came out to deal with the servants who had done nothing while Willa was poisoned, beaten, and bleeding. A few hours later, the duke returned, and Damien dealt with him, too.
The swift revenge had felt wrong, because her husband deserved to suffer, but Damien killed him anyway. He buried Willa in the garden under a beautiful cherry blossom tree.
Weeks later, Damien returned home and told his father what had happened, thinking nothing about the curse until his father died three days later. After that came his cousins, his uncles, his aunts, his best friend, and everyone else he cared for, including minor acquaintances he was fond of. The town claimed it to be a plague, but Damien knew; the witch had her revenge, and he deserved the pain he would endure for centuries to come.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Damien lay in his freshly made king-size bed, hoping by morning things would finally go back to normal. Lone wolf. His world. His control. He would attend the festival and look for answers, but he would do so on his own.
“Damien?” Sky’s soft voice came from somewhere inside the dark bedroom.
“How are you speaking to me? And what are you doing in here? Did you not hear what I said in the living room?”
“I’m already dead, so it’s not like you can hurt me. But I’m glad this is working. I wasn’t sure it would.”
“Would what?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to fall asleep. Pet said you might hear me if your mind and your friend weren’t in the way.”
“Ah. So I’m dreaming.”
“In a way, I guess.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m trying to rest. What do you want?” he grumbled. This was very strange. He was asleep, speaking with the dead, yet it felt real. The soft sheets were cool on his skin; the air in the room was still; the clock on his nightstand ticked away. Nothing seemed different.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Sky sighed. “I had no idea you were trying to keep Amelia and Miguel safe from your brother.”