Cursed-epub (5 page)

Sean seemed to be avoiding Dianta. She would bounce in his direction, and he would subtly turn his body away from her. It was funny watching him give her the cold shoulder. At one point, he even avoided a clutching manicured claw in a move a ninja would envy. Carmella couldn't help but a smirk of satisfaction over Dianta's increasingly desperate attempts to attract his attention.

Impatiently, she waited for his attention to reach her part of the crowd. A small part of her mind told her to hide, that she was worthless and would embarrass herself if he did notice her. Her soul told it to shut up.

Sean caught her eye, and she swore his jaw dropped. A small smile began to bloom on her lips but quickly wilted as he turned to speak with the shaggy man. Sean’s mouth lifted in a curl of disgust when Miguel laid a hand on his shoulder. Miguel didn't seem to notice, but Carmella could see Sean's body stiffen as he moved away from Miguel.

Feeling like a fool, she moved quickly to the back of the crowd and hid behind Tian. What was she thinking? Why would he be interested in a mouse of a woman dressed in clothes three times her size? He was beyond anything she had ever seen. He must have women throwing themselves at him. Dianta had certainly tried every trick in her slutty book to gain his attention. Miguel kept attempting to casually move her away from Sean, to the point of securing an arm around her waist and pinning her to his side.

Carmella wallowed in her misery. If only things were different. If only her father was still alive and she stood next to Sean, welcoming him. She wanted to go crawl in a hole and hide. In front of the entire school she had stared at him like some love struck teenager. Tian gave her a curious look, but left her alone as the squad divisions and song choices were explained.

Wrapped in her depression, she stared out the window at the busy street. She wished with all her heart that her father had never died, that her mother had never gotten sick, and she was still the girl who believed in fairy tales.

“You have something in your hair,” a voice cloaked in a wonderful accent said.

Carmella turned so quickly she nearly gave herself whiplash. Sean stood not three feet from her, an amused smile curving his lips. The sunlight burned through his red hair like fire, and it caught the fine light red stubble on his face. This close, he stunned her with his presence, and all she could do was stare. She found herself turning toward him, like a flower following the sun.

“I'm sorry.” Sean raised a fair eyebrow. “Do you speak English?”

“Oh, yes, I do. I'm sorry, what did you say?” Carmella breathed out, feeling like a fool, but unable to focus her thoughts when he was this close.

Sean walked toward her and reached up, plucking a few bits of white down feathers from her bun. She wanted a hole in the floor to open so she could jump into it. She also wanted to grab his large hand and place gentle kisses on his palm before sliding it down her willing body. Realizing everyone was staring at her, Carmella blushed all the harder. “I was sewing some feathers on to the Winter Queen costume. I….uh…had a mishap with the bag.”

Tian held a hand over his mouth behind Sean's back, laughing at her.

Sean gently pulled a few more feathers from her dark bun. That simple act felt like a gentle caress, and her body responded with a flush of heat. The soft flesh between her legs began to flood with warmth, and she had a distracted thought that it had been forever since she felt any desire.

He seemed to linger as he pulled the feathers out, gently pulling and smoothing her hair. Those long fingers moved with such grace he could probably play her body like an instrument. Desire flowed through her blood, making her skin sensitive to the slightest breeze. Looking into his storm-blue eyes, she wondered what color they turned when he was in the grip of passion.

“What is your name, little bird?” he asked as he brushed his hands together. His voice was kind, and he was careful not to invade her space.

“I'm little flower.” He looked sharply as if she’d said something obscene. That made her blush even harder. “I mean, my name is Carmella Ramirez. Please ignore the nickname. I didn't get much sleep last night.” She mentally scolded herself for acting like a flake as Tian turned an alarming shade of red while holding back his laughter behind Sean.

Sean raised his hand toward her face, and Dianta appeared out of nowhere. She snatched his hand out of the air with a brittle smile. “Sean, there you are, you handsome man.” She tugged him toward Miguel, waiting for them at the entrance. “I see you've met one of our seamstresses. I do hope she hasn't bored you too much.”

Turning to Carmella, Dianta gave her a frozen smile and waved her manicured fingers at her in a shooing gesture. “Run along now, Carmella. Stop bothering Mr. Kalmus. I don't know why you're here anyway. It's not like you're going to dance in the Carnival.” She let out a mean little titter and snuggled against Sean's side.

Carmella's lower lip trembled at the angry look on Sean's face. He must have thought she was a dancer. His disappointment cut her like a knife, and she turned quickly and left, not wanting Sean to see the tears filling her eyes.

Damn that woman, he was
hers.

The thought stopped her cold. What in the world was wrong with her? He was a stranger, an extremely gorgeous stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. She had no claim on him. All he did was come over and pull feathers out of her hair. Ignoring the curious looks from the people she passed in the hall, she went into Fatima's dance studio and shut the door with a slam.

Her emotions were out of control, and she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. Not a violent person by nature, the rapidly escalating rage filled her with terror and she took a shaky breath, striving to regain control of her emotions. This wasn't like her. Maybe she was losing her mind. Eyes closing, she slumped into the corner and let the tears finally fall.

Sean kept his voice low as he and Kell lounged on a rough picnic bench in the small courtyard behind the samba school. A banana tree arched overhead, providing a small patch of shade. The fierce Brazilian sun beat down on the courtyard and turned it into an oven, and Sean wiped the sweat off his forehead. Kell smoked a fragrant hand-rolled cigarette, their excuse for getting away from Dianta's endless chatter and Miguel's glowering looks.

“This place stinks of evil,” Kell muttered in a low voice. “What have you been able to figure out?”

They could have used an auditory shield spell, but Sean didn't want Miguel to know he knew magic. Something was going on here. He’d first sensed it when Miguel and Dianta met him at the hotel. Both of their auras were tainted with darkness that left a smear of psychic filth. They had been doing some heavy black magic to get that much evil on their souls.

Sean kept his shields tight. Even if Miguel could see auras, a rare ability, all he would see of Sean's was the outer edges. Hidden inside his aura were the streaks of slow gold lightning that marked him as Chosen. Anyone with a trained eye who saw that would know he had a personal relationship with his patron god, and that made him dangerous.

Switching to Gaelic, Sean said, “Most of the students here are normal humans and nothing special. The staff is another matter. A few are still free of the taint of darkness, but most have at least been brushed with it. The women especially.”

“What about that walking blow-up doll, Dianta?” Kell spat a loose piece of tobacco on the ground.

“Bad. Her psychic smell is like garbage rotting in the sun. Miguel isn't much better, but he seems weak somehow. I think Dianta is the real power of this place…or at least a portion of it. I can't imagine her being smart enough to learn high magic.”

Kell tapped the ash from his cigarette on the ground. “What's up with that homely little thing you were talking with? I don't think anyone, well, other than Dianta, noticed you couldn't keep your eyes off her. Did I miss something?”

Sean stared at Kell. How could he call Carmella homely? Didn't he notice her lovely skin, its soft tone more gold than tan. And her movements…even running out the door she reminded him of a graceful cat. Though she tried to hide it, the lush body beneath her clothing had made his cock hard the moment he saw her.

But it was more than just looks. Her aura was a stunning violet with a soft sparkling gold mist rising from it. He didn't know who her god was, but that mist on her aura was a clear sign she was considered a favorite.

“I think she's my first flower of spring.” Sean grinned at Kell's incredulous look. “She had 'snow' in her hair in the form of feathers, and her nickname is little flower. And her aura, it's a beautiful purple, like the first violets of spring. She has such a gentle soul.”

Staring at him, Kell began to laugh. “Oh man. Sean, you're twitterpated over this girl.”

Sean narrowed his eyes at Kell. “I am not twitterpated. I…” He paused for a second and felt an unfamiliar grin lift his lips. It almost felt silly. “I think she's my
Comhcheol
.”

Letting out a low whistle, Kell looked at him closely as he ran a hand over his dark brown hair. “Shit, that complicates things.” Kell also turned to look at the building as if he could see the girl inside. “So, she's your harmony. That special soul that resonates with your own. Hell of a time to find her.”

Sean nodded, all thoughts of evil and Carnivals gone from his mind as he embraced the possibility. It was a rare thing to find one’s
Comhcheol
and considered a great blessing from the gods when it happened. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to his god, Maponus, for bringing him here.

Snapping his fingers in Sean's face, Kell said, “Well, your little flower is in a samba school that is being used for some kind of demonic magic. You need to worry about what is going on and how it might be affecting your lady before you two start picking out curtains.”

Sean clenched his fists at the thought of Carmella coming to any harm. “You're right. Let's get back inside and see what Dianta and Miguel want us to do for the Carnival. We still need to coordinate our theater troupe with their musicians and dancers. No reason to let them know we’re suspicious.”

Standing and pulling his damp shirt from his back, Sean said, “Tomorrow I'm going to have Monica and Whitney come in and work with their choreographers. We need to keep everything as normal as possible, and I still have that charity DJ gig tomorrow night. Warn everyone to wear protection charms before they come to this school and to always stay with at least one other member of our troupe.”

Kell ground out the cigarette butt into the dust with his boot. “No rest for the weary, my friend.”

****

Carmella didn't want to leave the peaceful solitude of the dance studio. She hadn't been inside this room since her father passed away. It used to be one of her favorite practice spaces with its polished wood floors and soft butterscotch-painted walls. As a child, she’d spent endless hours watching her father teach the samba, the carimbó and the lundu. Some of her favorite memories were of watching her father and mother twirling together in these mirrors.

If she was really good and promised to stay quiet, they would let her watch the carimbó practice. It was a sensual dance with a woman and a man seeking to seduce each other on the floor. Dressed in white shirts and pants with bright red strips of cloth as belts, the men looked so dashing to her young eyes.

The women wore long flowing skirts with brightly colored designs. They would flip the skirts at their male partners, twirling and using the cloth as an extension of their bodies. She loved the costumes. It was part of the reason she’d begged the school's old seamstress to teach her to sew.

Watching herself in the mirror, she began to dance, really dance, for the first time since her father died. She started slow, a few turns, an arc of the arms. With a frown, she took off her bulky shirt and tossed it in the corner. Standing at the barre at the back of the wall, she began to go through her stretching routine. Her body remembered the moves. They were so ingrained she could do them in her sleep. Muscles woke and protested as her tendons warmed up and her heart beat faster to rush oxygen through her blood.

Clad in a white tank top and her sports bra, she smiled at her reflection and did a couple of lightning-fast turns. Her baggy pants rode low, leaving an inch of her lower stomach and the top curves of her hips sticking out. The sight of her protruding hipbones brought a momentary flash of dismay. When had she gotten so skinny? She didn't remember looking into the mirror and seeing so much bone. In fact, she couldn't think of the last time she had looked at her body.

Taking in a deep lungful of air, she could almost smell the sharp spice of her father's cologne in the air, as if it had become a part of the room. How he had loved to dance. Snapping her fingers, she wished she had musicians here to give her a beat. The need to move filled her until she practically vibrated with energy. The pain in her soul could be cleansed with the fire of dance. Flexing her feet and rotating her ankles, she looked through the collection of CDs Fatima kept on top of the sound system.

Carmella smiled and pulled out one of Sean's CDs. On the cover, a large tree beneath a night sky gave shelter to a sleeping child. The title was
Dreams of Innocence
. Flipping over to the back, she sucked in her breath as a picture of Sean held her gaze. He was looking through the fringe of his fair lashes with a devilish smile quirking his lips. His hands were placed on a complicated turntable, and the background was a misty forest. The more she stared at his picture, the more it seemed as though he was looking right back at her.

A whisper of desire moved through her as she examined his lips. Not as full as hers, they were firm and well shaped. Her nipples hardened into aching tips as she imagined what it would be like to kiss him, to lick the top curve of his mouth. Would he taste cold and fresh like the ocean where he was from?

Too distracted by his image to read the titles of the songs, she slipped the CD in and played one at random. Her heart swelled as the music drifted from the speakers. It was a belly dancing song, similar to the ones her mother used to play when she danced. At first, it was just an introduction of drums, clean and simple, powerful. Then a woman's voice flowed in, blending with the drums. Finally, Sean began to spin, mixing synthetic melodies and bass beats into an intoxicating rhythm.