Cursed by Diamonds (A Dance with Destiny Book 1) (43 page)

Blessedly, a relaxing wave washed over her. She collapsed onto the bed as Varick slowly made his erotic journey back up her now trembling form.

“I love you, Anicee,” he rasped.

When she could catch her breath and regain her senses, she growled at him.

“Who is this Anicee?”

“It is you,” he whispered. “It is an ancient word—forgotten among the layers. It means… beloved wife.” Varick used one bent finger to push her chin up, closing her gaping mouth. “Will you accept my manacle?”

Jenevier stared at him, horror-stricken and gloriously happy.

“…Yes,” she barely whispered.

“No more reservations, my love?”

She swallowed hard. “None, my glorious Guardian Angel. I have always been yours.”

He removed the glowing circle from his finger and gently placed it upon hers. The sensation was magical and warming. It slowly sank into her flesh—filling all the empty voids within her heart, her mind, her soul. She had never known such sweet serenity, such completeness. She watched in awe as the warm glow sank fully into her finger, leaving an intricately woven design in its place.

“How does it feel?”

She sighed, dreamily. “Perfect and natural.”

“A Vanir gets but one manacle the whole of his existence.”

“I know, my love.” She gingerly touched the tattooed flesh now encircling her ring finger. “I will cherish it—protect it with my very life.”

He smiled softly. “We will have the ceremony as soon as you can return to Vanahirdem.”

“Oh, Varick, I can’t wait. The thought of getting to live with you every day in the same home, of never again having to sleep without being curled up in your protective arms, of lying against you as only beautiful and peaceful dreams sweep over me—pure heaven. I can scarce even imagine it. After all these years, I finally feel whole.”

She kissed him with a joy she could no longer contain. He was perfect, this night was perfect, and she couldn’t imagine ever being this completely happy again. Varick groaned as he rocked against her. The delicious little noise only fueled her desires, heightened her already heightened passions. She wasn’t letting him go. Not this time. Not until she was finished kissing his glorious lips, his flawless face.

Varick’s deep, rumbling growls thrilled her. His growing excitement turned her on like never before.

This is the man I have dreamed of
, she thought, happily.

Jenevier felt a euphoric, rousing pleasure where Varick was firmly holding her hips, pressing against her. There was a sharp pain that caused her kisses to cease momentarily. It slowly dissipated, turning into a mind-blowing sensation that sent almost painful shivers throughout her body. He pressed upon her harder, moved within her. She cried out from the absolutely mind-reeling gratification she felt coursing through her body. Varick joined her outburst.

“By all that is holy,” he moaned.

“Oh, merciful heavens. Varick, why did you not tell me how glorious it was?” she rasped. “Why have you withheld such a thing from me all this time?”

He held up his freshly marked finger. Where his manacle had once been was a perfectly matched design of her freshly woven commitment to him. He looked lovingly at her, twirling one golden curl around his finger.

“One manacle, one mate, Anicee.”

“So, you always knew we would end up right here.”

“Yes, but I prayed for it daily as well.”

“And, you waited ten long years to finally show me paradise?”

She cut a sharp glance his way, smirking. His smiling profile was breathtaking. She almost giggled when he pulled her onto his sculpted chest and held her there.

“Fear not, my love. I plan on making it up to you tonight, and every night hereafter.”

Jenevier’s lids fluttered closed as her heavenly giant started, once more, making good on his promise.

The new lovers spent that most precious of nights exploring all the wonders their entwining embrace revealed. They spared no time for sleep. Rest could come the day passion grew old.

Chapter 57

Ashgard

(ASH-guard)

Alastyn saw Willow and Floria safely back to Ousten. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not get the bloodied, golden-haired twin of Jenevier out of his mind. Kissing Willow farewell, he promised to return in a few days. Truthfully, Willow was grateful for the time alone. She desperately needed to start putting her traumatized little family back together.

*****

“Do you have any more missions to attend?” Varick asked, tucking one of her stray curls behind her ear.

“Only one, my love. I will return to Vanahirdem in two days.”

“Then I will go on ahead—break the glorious news to Vareilious as softly as I can. He will need some time to recover before the ceremony.”

A mischievous smile curled her lips. “It may be a good idea if Vinika were somewhere nearby when you do this.”

“Really? Why would you say that?

She rolled her eyes then smiled. “Just a feeling, dear husband.”

“I will take loving advice into consideration, Anicee.”

He pulled her against him, holding her so tight she could feel the rippling movement of his muscles against her chest. His kiss was different now. He kissed her with lips of promise, not hope, promise.

Jenevier grabbed her jacket from the dresser as the new lovers left the quaint little inn. Varick returned home to make the necessary preparations for their
official
marriage, and she headed south in hopes of experiencing her most satisfying mission yet.

She had no idea who could have left the cryptic little note—or who even knew she was there—but
nothing
was going to stop her from going to the Broken Wheel. She didn’t dwell on the missing details; even though Valadrog had warned her many times…
that
is where the devil resides—in the details.

She was far too happy to doubt her unexpected good fortune as she meticulously planned out her assault. After mulling through various torturous scenarios, she finally decided to just quickly dispatch the dark Prince and return home.

I just want to be done with this whole thing—close that chapter on the past, let my blissful new life begin.

Merodach must be destroyed before she could be truly free, yes. Years ago she had planned out every scene of his fated execution. Now, she just wanted him dead.

No fancy artistry necessary
, she thought as she made her way back to a place she’d never dreamed of seeing again.
Although, I will strike the death blow without the use of my mask. I want him to know which cursed maiden it was that took his pathetic life.

Satisfaction sparkled darkly in her deep blue eyes.

*****

The search proved much easier than Alastyn had expected. It seemed nearly everyone in Haven remembered something about the enchanting golden-curled maiden. The whole town must have noticed her. He couldn’t blame them.

He easily found out what she wore, where she ate, at which inn she had slept—right along with the room number. And, sadly, that she was seen leaving early that morning smiling and chatting with herself.

“Chatting with herself? You mean, like mumbling?”

“No. I mean, like chatting.”

“Was she on horseback?”

“No, sir. She was walking right down the middle of this street right here.” The man pointed as he spoke. “She was laughing and talking—carrying on an entire conversation with absolutely no one at all. But she sure was smiling.” He sighed. “Pretty as a Princess.”

Alastyn was disheartened by the news of her departure, but went on to check out where she had slept.

“Odd. She must have spent only one night. No sign of a half-eaten meal
or
a single dirty dish. Hmm… wonder why she didn’t eat anything? Not even breakfast.”

He found a small trace of blood in the wash basin, and some on the sheets, but not a single other clue remained.

Well, if she is on foot, perhaps I can still catch her.

He stepped on a crumpled piece of blood-stained paper as he made to leave her rented room.

*****

Jenevier flew most of the way to Tamar Broden. Since she couldn’t visualize where it was exactly she wanted to go, there was no way of just
popping
there. She traded her dazzling wings and tinkling frock for her human form as she neared the peaceful little village.

So many things flooded back—the smells, the people, the little rose-covered cottage. She stretched out on a branch of the aged winslet tree behind her old home and spent the rest of that day on fond memories of her former life… and giddy expectations of her new one.

There was constant activity buzzing around the humble little cottage. But try as she might, Jenevier failed to recognize a single person. She casually looked over as the back door clanged shut and gasped when she caught sight of old man Trinken. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of the warm boots he had gifted her as she begrudgingly left this tiny little paradise. She had kept them. Of course she had. After all these years, those worn-out dirty old soft-soled boots were one of her prized treasures.

She glanced down at the slick black boots she now donned. They had caught her eye during a mission on layer eight. She liked them because the heels were so high. Wearing them, she didn’t feel quite so tiny around her enormous brethren.

“I will never be eight feet tall, no. But six additional inches is six additional inches. And no more infernal laces.” She smiled as she admired them. “In these, I’m nearly six feet tall… well, five and a half.”

The soft subtle leather zipped all the way up to her thighs. Her shoes may have been dramatically different than when she’d left, yes, but her heart felt the exact same pangs of loss as she watched the quiet little home of the Trinkens.

Effortlessly changing into her mask, Jenevier silently glided to the open barn door. Mr. Trinken was busily working on another beautiful piece of the signature furniture he was known far and wide for. She lit upon a beam high within the rafters and watched him.

“Wynford! Wynford!”

Frantic yells came from the back of their house as Mrs. Trinken came running into the barn, grabbing hold of her husband.

“What is it, woman? You done scared me half to death.”

“Wynford, I saw a dark Angel getting ready to snatch you away. I saw it, plain as day.”

“Calm yourself, Margy. Now, tell me exactly what you saw.”

“It was a hideous black shadow with sparkling evil wings. It flew right over your head. Then, everything went dark.”

“Now, calm down, woman. Probably was just an old crow or the like. Ain’t nothing to get in a tizzy over.”

“No, Wynford, that’s not it. I was suffocating while I watched it circling you. It meant to have you. I’m
sure
of it.”

The older couple turned then, watching wide-eyed as the barn door slowly closed on its own. A warm breeze took their breath just as Jenevier materialized before them. Margy screamed. Wynford quickly cupped his hand over her hysterical mouth.

“Calm yerself, woman. You’ll fall ill with the vapors if ya ain’t careful.”

Jenevier softly smiled at the startled couple. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Trinken.”

“Why, little lady, you sure have grown up,” Wynford said.

Margy stood terrified and confused as Jenevier ran to the old man and threw her arms around his neck.

He laughed. “Look at you, girl. Yer a grown woman now.”

“Well, I didn’t
grow
much more.” She smiled as she looked down at herself. “Grew older mayhap, but not any taller.”

“Wow, you sure did turn out purty.” He looked to his wife. “Margy, ain’t ya gonna say hi to Miss Jenevier?”

Recognition finally lightened Margy’s face as tears fast filled her soft brown eyes.

“Oh, Miss Jenevier, I’ve been so worried about you. How in the world did you come to be in this smelly old barn, child?”

“When I saw Mr. Trinken come in here… I couldn’t help myself.” She took the old man’s hands in hers and gave them a little squeeze. “I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated everything you did for me back then…
both
of you. It meant more than you will ever know.”

“Ah, so you found yer giant, did ya?”

Jenevier look at the smirking old man and laughed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“And new shoes to boot.”

She looked down at her new black shoes.

“Yes. But I still have yours. I count them as treasure.”

“Naw, twern’t nothing, little lady.”

Mrs. Trinken was gaping at her, looking her up and down, head to toe and back again.

“So… what are ya?”

“Margy, don’t be so blame rude. You know exactly what she is—Marlise’s little niece.”

“Well, I know
that
. But… she just popped out of thin air right here in the middle of this old barn.”

“That’s okay. Don’t you worry ‘bout it none,” Wynford said.

Jenevier turned to Margy and took both her hands, smiling.

“What
I am
, Mrs. Trinken, is happy and blessed.”

“But how di
d—
”

“Good, child. That’s real good,” Wynford said. “That’s all we ever hoped for ya.”

“Margy?”

The older woman turned back to Jenevier when she spoke.

“Margy, I want you to listen carefully to me. This is important. You cannot tell a soul I was here. Not a single soul. Do you understand? I will be in grave danger if you do.”

The older lady’s eyes went wide. “But, what about Jezreel?”

“Not even her, especially not her. Not yet. I’ve been watching and waiting, trying to catch a glimpse of her all day. When I find her I will tell her myself. Do you understand me, Margy? Not a word.”

Mrs. Trinken nodded her head in affirmation.

“We won’t even whisper about it, child,” Mr. Trinken added. “Ya don’t need to worry ‘bout that none.”

She respectfully nodded to them and continued. “Now, tell me. Did something happen with Jezreel? Did she leave Tamar Broden?”

The older couple quickly glanced at each other before looking down.

“No, Ma’am,” Mr. Trinken said. “Miss Jezreel stayed right here.”

“But… she sold the cottage, then?”

“Naw, she lives there still,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

“She visited Halora,” Margy said quickly.

“Hush now, woman.”

“What?” Jenevier grabbed the older woman’s elbow. “Tell me what happened.”

“…But.”

Margy glanced nervously at Wynford, then hurriedly spilled the beans before anyone could try and stop her again.

“We all told her not to. But she wouldn’t listen. Now, she wears a horrible spell in trade for the magic she was given.”

Jenevier gasped. “What?”

Margy continued her excited words. “Yeah, it’s just awful. Bless her heart. She hardly ever even leaves the house. But she sure has done a real good job as a healer. Just like you asked her to.”

Jenevier gritted her teeth as she mumbled, “You stupid, hard-headed, stubbor
n—
”

“But, she did it all for you,” Margy said.

Jenevier’s angelic eyes betrayed her with their deadly ruby glow.

“Do not place this on me, Margy Trinken. Don’t you dare place this on
my
head. Whatever Jezreel’s curse,
she
chose it. Not me. If that stupid girl traded her soul to a witch, it was for pride and glory first, me second. I had no choice in my lot. Yet she… she
intentionally
threw her life away. I had no part in that.”

“‘Tis true, Ma’am, ‘tis true,” Mr. Trinken said, nodding. “She knows that now. And she spends every waking moment trying to make up for it. Trying to do what’s right, just to survive.”

“As do I,” Jenevier spat.

She made to leave the suddenly suffocating old barn.

“What the hell, Jezreel,” she grumbled to herself.

Before she exited, she turned back to the terrified woman, placing her finger to her mouth.

“Not… a… word.”

“N-not a w-word,” Margy stuttered.

*****

Alastyn spent the better part of those two days waiting inside the Broken Wheel. After he had finally arrived back in Tamar Broden, it was late evening the first day. He was afraid he may have missed her once again. Late the following day, that same beautiful woman walked in and took a seat in the far corner from him.

She was even more incredible than he remembered. He fought with every cell in his body not to run to her, hold her, pick up right where they had left off all those years ago… when that damn teapot had whistled. His heart leapt at the sight of her, and once again, he was hopelessly lost. No matter what had happened through these last long years or even how happy he now was with Willow, Jenevier owned him. He knew in that moment, he would never be able to break the magical spell she held over him. Nor did he want to.