Love Cursed, page 1
Love Cursed
GODS CURSED SERIES BOOK 1
LEISL LEIGHTON
Praise for Leisl Leighton
Wow what a start. This was magical and captivating throughout. Thoroughly enjoyed the storyline and characters and how they overcome things.
PAT’S REVIEWS - GOODREADS REVIEWER
I loved this! … I loved reading about the history and what happened to set things in motion. This is a very good book and is most definitely worth reading.
A SCHOFIELD - GOODREADS & BOOKBUB REVIEWER
Great start to the prequel series … Beautifully written and moving … I look forward to reading the next one.
N PARKER - GOODREADS REVIEWER
This is so good! I found myself swept away in the magical and captivating story … I’m hooked and so looking forward to the next book.
DEBBIE EYRE - GOODREADS & BOOKBUB REVIEWER
I loved the way Leisl Leighton wrote this, it was what I was hoping for in this type of book. The characters were what I was hoping for. I was invested in the plot and really glad I read this.
K LEER - GOODREADS REVIEWER
Contents
Love a Free Book?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Soul Cursed
Tamuel’s Curse
Chapter 1
Love a Free Book?
Also By Leisl Leighton
About Leisl
Acknowledgments
Love a Free Book?
Cursed to never be loved; fated to never be alone …
Cursed cupid Tamuel has been told he will never love or be loved, a fate to which he’s long been resigned. Yet from the moment he meets powerful trainee witch Korinna Soteira at the Amazonian and Gargarean training camp, he knows this to be a lie – he loves Korinna like he’s loved nothing and no-one in his life. But his curse is right in one respect: he may be able to love, but he can never be loved. Korinna will only ever be his friend, a fact he has spent the last twenty years coming to terms with.
However, malignant forces are stirring in the darkest reaches of the Realms. They have plans to use Korinna and her unusual powers – plans that can only be thwarted by the cursed cupid and an impossible love. Yet breaking Tamuel’s curse now could release a force too ancient to destroy – and thus destroy any future.
What if the only way to survive the present is to place the future in peril?
Fractured Curse is a prequel novella to my popular Gods Cursed Series centring on unknown history between two of readers’ favourite characters from the series. It takes place 2000 years before the events in Love Cursed and can be read as an introduction into the world or at any time during the reading of the series.
It’s exclusive to my newsletter subscribers, so to get your copy, just click the link below, fill in your details and it will be winging its way to you along with other free reads, deals and bookish info.
Get My Free Copy of Fractured Curse
To my Mum and Dad – you made me believe I could write and get published and let the stories in my heart take shape. Love really can do impossible things.
Thank you.
Chapter
One
“Would you like a drink, Julianna?”
“Umm …” Jules blinked rapidly at Simon. Was she supposed to say yes, or no? The information on first dates she’d looked up online hadn’t covered this scenario. It was at times like this she really wished she’d inherited her mother’s talent for reading minds – although, if she’d inherited her mother’s talent, she wouldn’t be here. But longing for magic was as useless as longing to have her parents back, so she pushed that thought away as quickly as it had come and tried to read the answer in Simon’s eyes.
He began to tap his foot when she didn’t answer immediately, then said slowly. “A drink?” His eyes widened a little as he waited for her response.
Did that mean he wanted her to answer yes, or no? Hells, she was so lost.
“Oh, for Goddess-sake! Are you thirsty or not?” the voice in her head snarled.
She wanted to ignore the voice – it didn’t seem particularly happy she was here – but it had a point. Her mouth was incredibly dry, so … “Yes? Please.”
Simon smiled and stood. “Gin and tonic with a twist of lime good for you?”
Yuk. But would he offer that if he didn’t think it was the right drink for this situation? Probably not, so … “Yes please.”
A slight nod and another smile.
Another good guess. This was going great even if she did have to drink gin.
“I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable.”
She nodded, even though there was no chance she’d ever be comfortable on this particular sofa. It was overstuffed, hard and for some strange reason, covered in plastic.
Well, if he truly wanted her comfortable, maybe she didn’t have to stay seated.
Jules stood, making a little ripping, sucking sound as the bare part of her legs separated from the plastic – why was it so hot in here? She shouldn’t have worn this cream wool dress with its capped sleeves and pretty lace collar. Grandmama always said good wool was cool in summer, warm in winter, but right now, Jules simply found it stifling. However, there was nothing else in her wardrobe that was date worthy.
She quickly sniffed at her armpits, hoping the heat didn’t equate to smelly sweat. Thankfully, all she smelled was a faint whiff of her deodorant. Thank the Goddess for that!
Maybe if she walked about a bit, it might help. Waving her hand in front of her face like a fan, she made a little turn around the room. Surely it wasn’t rude to look at the artwork and knick-knacks? She should have done a more thorough job when she’d researched date etiquette. But most of it had been about what date you could first kiss on and what date you could go to second base, who should pay if you went out and so on. Nothing was discussed about a first date where the guy cooked for you at his family home.
It was okay though. She hadn’t yet given away that this was the first time she’d been on a date – pitiful given she was 28 – and Simon didn’t seem to want to chuck her out right away, so that was a good sign. In fact, it seemed like the date was going well.
Date.
Her lips twitched into a smile and, clenching her hands to her chest, she did a little spin on the spot.
She was on a date. An actual date. And her date was making her dinner.
Would he kiss her? She hoped so. Or maybe not. Hells, she didn’t know. But it was nice to think there was a chance of something like that happening even if she didn’t particularly long for it to happen in the usual tingle-in-the-tummy, curl-the-toes kind of way.
Was that what she would feel if he kissed her? Or would his kiss be more like when Aunt Ophelia kissed her? The old woman had this thing about kissing on the lips which was a bit odd in a family not given to demonstrative hugging and kissing. But it wasn’t even the kissing on the lips that was so bad, it was the fact Aunt O’s lips were a curious and shudder-inducing combination of parchment dry yet somehow always sticky. Probably had something to do with the ten-tonne of lipstick she wore. Or the never-ending supply of lollies she munched on.
Thankfully Grandmama had stopped Aunt O from kissing Jules; or touching her as she had a want to do – she was a bit of a close talker – many years ago because her sensitivity to magic had got to the point it was noticeable, and, “We must never let anyone else know of your affliction before we’ve found the cure!” her grandmama had always lectured. Jules had always hated that lecture and not just because it was kind of pointless – it wasn’t like she was about to go running around telling everyone about her affliction especially given who her family was and what it could mean if certain people in the community found out. No, she’d hated it because the great Violetta Stevens, Grand Matriarch of the Stevens family and Melbourne Coven Leader, had kept her hope alive for so many years with her talk of a cure. But there was no cure. No hope. She would always be like this. And if her Grandmama couldn’t face the truth of that, well, at least she could, no matter how much it hurt.
And, if she were to look on the bright side, Grandmama’s protectiveness and the affliction had saved her from Aunt O’s kisses, so, it wasn’t all bad.
Although, right now, given nobody but Bas had touched her for years, she almost missed Aunt O’s disgusting kisses.
Hells. She did want Simon to kiss her, if only for the aching need inside her to be assuaged. And if anyone could do it, it should be him. She hadn’t had any unfortunate reactions to being in this room with him for the ten minutes they had sat chatting – well, he chatted and she listened. He did seem to love talking about his work; and she had to admit it was interesting hearing about the potions he created with the little bit of magic he had access to. Not that he’d put it like that. He’d made it sound like his magic was grand, but she knew better. She wouldn’t be here if it was.
But that was by-the-by. Hearing about the kind of magical work he did filled in some gaps she didn’t know she had in her knowledge base. The books and grimoires she worked with and catalogued in the Coven Library under Stevens House didn’t mention small household spells like the ones he seemed so proud of. But the best thing was, that even though he spoke about magic, and she’d known coming here that he had access to very little, there didn’t seem to be any around him at all. She hadn’t even felt a tingle from him when he’d sat on the couch right next to her after taking her cardigan. She also hadn’t felt a tingle of anything else looking into his handsome face with his hair slicked back like some mobster from the twenties and a superior smile twitching on his lips as he bragged about his latest stain-removal feat.
Probably not a great sign given this was a date, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
The Council would never countenance her dating anyone outside of the magical community but given her affliction, she couldn’t date anyone inside of it, so she’d always been stuck. But after hearing Grandmama complain about him and his family and their ebbing magical abilities and how the rest of the Council were on a mission to oust families that were not pulling their weight, she knew this could be her chance.
She might not want another date with Simon – especially if he kept looking at her as he’d done when she’d arrived, like he was about to win a prize. He had no idea she was no prize despite her family name and their standing in the magical community – but she wasn’t about to explain that to him. It certainly wouldn’t be a tick in the right column at this early stage.
“Here you go, my dear. Let me know if it’s too strong.”
She took the proffered drink and sipped obediently, trying very hard not to gag as the horrid taste of juniper and alcohol filled her mouth. Thankfully, he’d made a very weak gin and tonic, so she was able to swallow it and not spray the mouthful all over his beautifully pressed suit. “It’s lovely,” she said, smiling up at him.
“You know, gin is what prostitutes used to drink. It was cheap and rotted their brains, so their job was at least bearable.”
She widened her smile, still trying to ignore the voice in her head. Not that ignoring it had ever done any good. The voice came to her more and more this last couple of years. Perhaps her affliction was also driving her insane.
“You’re saner than he is. Do you think he thinks looking at you like that is charming?”
Oh Goddess. Simon was looking at her funny. Did she have a maniacal grin on her face? She pressed her lips together and looked away, her gaze lighting on the humongous and ugly portrait that hung over the mantlepiece. “This is … astonishing.”
Simon’s gaze immediately swung to the portrait. “Yes, isn’t it? We’re very proud of it. Mother commissioned the portrait a few years ago and Armando Sinclair himself came to do the drawings. He’s a ‘normal’ but is very talented.”
She nodded knowingly even though she had no idea who Armando Sinclair was – obviously someone well-known in stuffy circles going by the expression on Simon’s face and his air of general satisfaction as he gestured at the portrait. “It’s very … lifelike. I almost feel like your mother’s eyes are following me.” She hid a shudder.
“Yes, it’s a feature of Armando’s work. He likes to draw the viewer into the painting. See how the smile on her face almost says, ‘come to me’.”
“More like ‘run far away, little peasant’.”
Jules choked back the urge to laugh as she said to the voice in her mind, “Not now, please. You can talk as much as you like later. Just not now. I don’t want to ruin this. If things go well, I’ll have a date on Valentine’s Day. I might not ever get another chance.”
An aggravated sigh was her only answer.
“Thank you.”
“You won’t thank me if you stay much longer with this pillock.”
She clapped her hand against her mouth to stop the snort of laughter from erupting.
“Julianna? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Drink just went down the wrong way.”
He frowned at her. “Perhaps I did make it a little strong. Here, let me fix it.”
He took the drink from her – she hoped by some miracle he might not bring it back – then just as he went to turn, a bell sounded from the next room.
“Ah, our dinner is ready. Let me show you to the table and I’ll get it for us.”
She allowed him to take her elbow and lead her into a formal and very stuffy blue and gold dining room – Goddess! Did they think they were living at the Palace at Versailles? – and then stood as he pulled out a chair at one end of the table.
“Sit here and I will be right back with our Pasta al tomato and our Salad al Verde.”
“What language does he think he’s parroting?”
Jules held onto her snort only as long as it took the door to slap shut behind Simon.
“He’s an idiot,” the voice said.
“Be nice.”
“Hard to in the face of such idiocy. You can’t seriously consider going on another date with him?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, then, you’d be the idiot. Especially given the fact you have someone so much better waiting in the wings.”
Jules snorted. “If that were true, I wouldn’t be here.”
“If only you could see. He’s waiting there for both of us. He’s—” The voice cut off with a choking sound as pain, sharp and icy, spiked through her head.
“Ow!” she gasped, clutching at her head as the kitchen door swung open and Simon entered with a tray covered with a large and very shiny metal cloche.
“Ta-da. Our dinner is served.” Thankfully he was too busy looking at the cloche to notice she was in pain.
She quickly dropped her hands and said, “Yummy,” trying her best to cover the fact her eyelid still twitched from the pain echoing through her head. Perhaps she should go and get her head scanned – these attacks were getting worse and worse.
“It won’t help,” the voice said, the sound of it not much more than a whimper.
“Shut up and go away.”
“I beg your pardon?” Simon had stopped a few feet away from the table, his handsome face marred by outraged surprise.
Damn it. Had she said that out loud? “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I was talking about my phone. I must have left it on in my handbag in the other room.”
“Your phone? I can’t hear it ringing.”
“Oh, can’t you. Well, that’s good then. Shall I help you with this?” she said, standing so abruptly she knocked the chair over.
“Careful!” Simon shouted as she made a grab for it, catching it before it hit the floor. “Mama would be extremely annoyed if those chairs were damaged. She hunted for months for just the right shade of blue in the tapestry seat and just the right honey in the wood and ended up getting them shipped from a monastery high in the Austrian Alps. They are very expensive.”
She gingerly put it back in place. “If they are so expensive, should we even eat in here?”
“Of course. Where else would I entertain Julianna Stevens, granddaughter of our Coven Leader?”
“Where else indeed. And please, it’s Jules.”
“Really?” His tone and the tightening of his mouth suggested what he really meant was ‘It’s so … common’. But to his credit, he rallied, and with a nod to her seat, said, “Sit please … Jules. Let me serve you then we can chat and get to know each other better.”
She sat back in the chair very carefully and waited as Simon served the pasta – tomato and basil from the smell. He grated parmesan over it without asking her if she wanted any – she did, but twice the meagre amount he’d put on – placing it down in front of her with a flourish. He then served her a small plate of salad – a few lettuce leaves with a few pieces of tomato and basil and way too much balsamic dressing from the smell and the drenched look of the leaves – and then, after serving himself, took a seat at the other end of the twelve-seater table.
