Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
And if he knew, he would tell; after all, it was in his job description right next to pain in the ass.
“A little of this…” I pretended to flick a piece of lint from his suit and smirked. “…a little of that. You know me; I’m a free spirit.”
“Free spirit, my ass. You practically live in that library of yours these days.”
I steeled my expression. He didn’t need to know why, though I was sure he suspected. He was brilliant, a genius actually, also why he had been forced upon me after the initial incident so many years ago.
“Well, do attempt to stay out of trouble, and no wandering into the basement.”
“I wonder how that would go,” I mused with no curiosity whatsoever. “Someone who’s cursed walks into a haunted basement, and what? Turns on the light? Discovers aliens? Finds the meaning of life? True love—”
The minute the words fell from my lips, my entire body revolted, sending a jolt of pain so severe to my chest that I collapsed falling off the barstool, my knees hitting the ground in one large crunch.
I gasped for air but only got short bursts as the pain spread from my chest to my limbs, pulsing into my fingertips like flames roaring to life.
With another notorious sigh, Jasper got off his chair and very gently touched my shoulder.
The pain left as if it was never there.
And Jasper looked a little bit more wrinkled around his eyes and mouth. Neither of us knew exactly why it worked that way—the point was, it never lasted. Within hours, he’d be back to his old self, yelling at me for talking too much and saying words I had no right to say—let alone feel ever again.
“Watch it,” he hissed in a short exhale before leaving me alone in the kitchen. The sound of the basement door shutting was my only clue as to where he went.
I shouldn’t be surprised. That was where he went every day.
There was an underground tunnel down there that I knew connected the house to the taffy factory—world renowned taffy factory.
I fucking hated taffy.
And yet, my family owned it—or I guess I had owned it—and with that wealth, had been able to make sure our tourist-filled cove always had visitors come summertime for our annual street fair.
We played nice, dressed up all the orphans from the local orphanage, gave them free candy, and strutted them around the fair like we’d actually done something good in our lives.
Smokescreens.
Everything about it felt painfully fake.
Like I was stuck in a constant state of repeat, unable to even take my own life because of the curse.
The one moment I’d tried to drown during a storm, I’d been saved. I tried the very next day and jumped off the rocky cliffs. It was the same result, always would be.
Life… a vicious cycle of disappointment and routine. Even the devil didn’t want me.
I slowly got to my feet and walked through my empty house, up to my empty room, and stood in front of the covered mirror.
It was an eighteenth-century piece I’d picked up years and years ago because it reminded me of the past, reminded me what I had left, and did a damn good job of reminding me why I could never go back.
With shaking hands, I reached for the black velvet covering.
Every day it was the same.
I’d reach for it.
My fingertips would graze the velvet as I rubbed it between my fingertips, and then I’d drop the cover and walk away.
How long had it been…?
Since the very first day I got back?
I grabbed a few of the textbooks I’d been going through and went down to the library to do exactly what I’d been doing on a daily basis.
I studied.
And I searched for an end.
Hours later, I slammed the last book shut. Dust billowed in front of my face. At least today I had found something.
Something was better than nothing.
The grandfather clock chimed.
Just like clockwork, Jasper brought in a lunch tray with a crystal decanter of whiskey and enough food to feed an army.
His wrinkles were gone. His countenance once again strong. One day I’d ask him how he seemed to instantly heal; it had been that way for as long as I could remember. His family had always worked for mine.
They’d technically been in our service until my curse made it so that he had no choice but to serve me in life and death. I still let him have his freedom; the last thing I needed was for him to report to the Matchmaker. Besides, I couldn’t stand his grumpy demeanor. I was already in hell; why add an oppressive demon to the suffering?
“Eat up,” he barked.
I was surprised he didn’t throw the plate in front of me. With a grin, I handed him the knife. “Could you cut the steak into tinier pieces?”