Cursed: Out of Ash and Flame E.C. Farrell (100 best novels of all time TXT) 📖

My brittle restraint shakes. “It’s the same drive,” I say, head swimming. “It just looks a little different. Finding a way to live even in a guaranteed cycle of daily death.”

“That sounds like it would make seizing the moment that much more important.”

I hum an affirmative in my throat. Brain shutting down, I lift my chin, shifting forward to kiss him. Pain lances through me. Desire disintegrates amidst the grinding ache of broken bones and bruised flesh. A whine fumbles from my lips before they touch his as nausea rolls through me. Automatically, I curl in on myself, like this will somehow protect me, but it only makes things worse.

Humiliating tears burn down my cheeks.

Max brushes my hair from my face, tucking it behind the point of my ear. “But sleep is also important, mama.” He scoots closer, and drapes a warm arm over me, a steadying presence.

Emotion forms a hard ball in my throat. Sniffing, I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping unconsciousness will carry me away quickly, and wipe away the shame of my intense foolishness.

MORNING SLAMS INTO me full of pain. With all the ice melted, my protective barrier of numbness is gone, leaving a stiff, agonizing ache behind. Max still holds me steady, his arm heavy across my chest. I squint up at him, then carefully slip out of his embrace — wincing the whole way — and slide off the bed.

Injured arm cradled against my middle, I just let the bags of water flop to the ground, sighing with relief when Max doesn’t stir. Getting upright is miserable, but I manage to make it to the bathroom. Then I face off with the mirror. I haven’t seen myself since the beat down yesterday. Though I figured it was bad, I didn’t realize just how bad.

Cuts and bruises litter my face and jaw, all dark, brutal memories of how I let that woman get the drop on me. One eye is particularly swollen. Red mars the white, pooling around the gold at the center. I probably burst a blood vessel.

With a moan, I rinse my mouth, then wet a washcloth. A shower is out of the question, so this will have to do for now. It takes some doing, but eventually I get most of the grime scrubbed off the places I can reach, then run my fingers through my hair. Once all this is over, I’m going to book a spa day.

I shuffle out of the bathroom to find Max stretching in bed. My cheeks heat. How had I let myself get so wrapped up in his magic last night? His power must be much stronger than I initially realized. Or a few broken bones weakened my resolve.

Max smiles at me, and that heat crawls down my neck. “How you feeling?”

“Like a bus didn’t hit me.” I can’t help but grin at my bad joke. “Or like someone wouldn’t shoot me in the head.”

Max presses a hand to his chest and gives me a wounded look. “Will you never forgive me for not killing you?

“Nope. I’m a grudge holder.” I reach for a packet of coffee, but the fast movement sends pain across my ribs, stealing my breath. “Though I might consider it if you manage the caffeine situation.”

“On it, mama.”

As he hops off the bed and glides to the coffee maker, I slide my cell off the nightstand, and ease into the chair Max left by the window. A message from Yaritza fills the screen when I unlock it. My pulse jumps at the details about when and where to meet the client.

Yaritza: The client is Tribunal member Iris Smith. She is aware of the transfer and your delay. You are to meet her at the Tribunal Building as soon as possible. Contact her when you are close. Details to follow.

The next message includes her number, which I save to my cell immediately. My thumbs then hesitate over the screen. A Tribunal member. That possibly explains the false name on the order and the asterisk. Then again, since there’s nothing illegal about calling out a bounty on someone, it doesn’t fully calm my paranoia.

Blowing a raspberry, I tap the internet app, then hesitate again. I could book us new tickets for the bus, but after what happened yesterday, I’m not sure that’s the best strategy. If I wasn’t busted up, we could just rent a car with my fake ID. In the worst-case scenario, we could stay at this motel one more night, but the idea of delaying much longer chafes.

Groaning, I rub the throbbing space between my eyebrows. Where did Max put that gun? One bullet would solve this plethora of problems. Not to mention alleviate my pain. I narrow my eyes on his shoulders as he drums his fingers against the edge of the counter on which the coffee maker and TV sit.

It couldn’t be that far since the spell’s leash is fairly short. Plus, I can’t imagine him leaving it in a place where anybody could just stumble across it. But there’s no reasonable way for me to search for it. Not without wasting a ton of time. With his ability to water bamf from place to place, as far as I know, he could’ve dropped it on the roof.

An idea hits me, and I straighten, crumpling forward almost immediately when my ribs complain about it. It’s a terrible idea. Slimy. But we can’t waste any more time. The Tribunal Building is near Memphis, positioned near one of the biggest doors to the fae realm in the United States. The fastest way to get there will be for Max to water bamf us. And if I give him a direct command, the magic of the cuffs tying us together will force him to obey.

It could also compel him to retrieve the gun.

If it weren’t for my broken bones, I’d smack my forehead at my sheer stupidity. I should have thought of that last night. Blame it on the