The Nymph's Curse: The Collection (58 page)

“My God, you’re breathtaking,” Chance said, his breath catching in his throat.

If only he knew the truth, that the reason she was so beautiful was because of her lineage, her demigod line. She was made to seduce, to make men want her, to marvel in her beauty. Yet, he could never know. He could never be exposed to the danger of the truth.

She forced her thoughts from her mind. This was her one night of unbridled freedom, the freedom to follow her heart, to follow her desire, and delve into the depths of euphoria.

Chance wrapped his arms around Harper as she laid her head on his chest. His heart thumped, marking the seconds as they slipped by in their constant race with life. Harper looked up and gave him a well-pleasured and tired smile. She dropped her head back down. In the faint light given off from the bedside lamp, the streaks of copper in her hair danced.

Lifting a lock of her hair, he moved it away from her neck, exposing a black tattoo just below where her neck connected with her shoulders. He moved so he could better see the small image. He sucked in a breath as he noticed the beautiful black swan — just like Carey’s.

Harper’s locks fell from his fingers and landed on her bare flesh like loving fingers. If she was a nymph, those fingerlike hairs were the key to her survival. Yet, she let him touch her hair like she was any other woman — which meant she must have trusted him with her life.

Her trust made the trickle of guilt in his gut turn into a raging current. Should he tell her he held a secret of his own — one that matched the intensity and surrealism of her supernatural nature?

He drew his finger over the blackened lines of the swan. “How well did you know Carey?”

“Hmmm,” Harper said, still exhausted by their lovemaking. “I just met her, I told you.”

“There was no other connection between you, I mean besides Jenna?” He pressed the issue, hoping she would open up.

Harper looked up from his chest and his fingers fell from her. “Don’t you believe me?”

He hadn’t meant for her to think he was questioning her honesty — he simply wanted the real answers. The truth that all supernaturals would hide from the human world.

“I do believe you. That’s not what I meant.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Then what do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

He couldn’t outright ask her if she was a nymph. If she wasn’t, she would think he had lost his mind, and there would be no way he could explain his suspicions — not without revealing his own truth. Yet, if she was a nymph there would be a world of possibilities, laid out before them — and also a new set of vulnerabilities and weaknesses.

Harper dropped her head back down, but this time her body was rigid and tense in his arms.

“Harper?” he asked in a soft voice barely above a whisper. “Is there anything about you I should know?”

She jerked in his arms and sat upright. Her tell was obvious — he had been a poker player for too many years not to notice the way her gaze flashed around the room like she was looking for an escape — a classic fight or flight maneuver that always gave away someone who was trying to conceal something.

“What?” she asked as she glanced at the door.

“You can be honest with me. If there is anything you need to tell me, I won’t judge. I’ll accept anything you have to tell me. Anything.”

There was a look of confusion on her face. “What are you after?”

He thought for a second. “Have you ever been in the hospital before?”

Harper nibbled on her lip. “No.”

“How old are you? Really?”

She glanced back at the door. “Twenty-nine.”

Though she looked twenty-nine her tell had once again given her lie away.

“Then who was the tenth president of the United States?

She thought for a second. “John Tyler.”

He couldn’t control the smile that took over his face. “Do you really expect me to believe that a
regular
person would know some random detail like that? I bet there are only a handful of humans who could name the tenth president off the top of their head.”

“What do you mean, Chance?” Harper’s face pinched into a tight scowl. “You don’t know me. How do you know I’m not some history buff?”

“I didn’t see a single history book.”

“That’s my sister’s house — not mine.”

“I know, but something tells me you and your sister had a few of the same interests. And I think Carey might have had the same interests as well — interests that involve the swan on your back.”

“What? What are you talking about?” she stammered.

“Harper … ” He paused as he decided how to proceed. “Are you a nymph?”

Her face flushed and she jumped out of bed. “Carey told you?”

He couldn’t help but stare at her beautiful, unmarred flesh — skin too perfect to be that of a regular human woman. “Are you admitting you are one?”

Harper stared at him, as if she was trying to decide whether to fly free of the confines of the room or to stay and face his questioning. She reached out and her fingers brushed against the blanket as if she was going to take the cloth and cover her body. Before she could pull the blanket from the bed, he took her fingers in his and stopped her — she didn’t need to run. He wasn’t trying to hurt her. No. He only wanted to know the truth.

“You can tell me, Harper.” He tried to soften the admission. “We all have secrets. If this is yours, I want you to know you can trust me.”

Harper stood still, staring down at their entwined fingers. After a moment she reached up with her left hand and laid it on top. She gripped their hands as if she wanted to meld their flesh together, to make them one being — with a shared heart.

“So you knew Carey was a nymph?” She looked up.

Her soft caramel-colored eyes were laced with fear and it made the knot of nerves in his stomach clench tighter. “Yes. She told me.”

“Why? Why did she tell?”

“Before we were married, she wanted to tell me everything about who she was. She respected me enough to tell me the truth of your kind — and your curse.”

Harper sat down on the edge of the bed. Her simple action made the knot in his stomach loosen.

“Chance,” she said softly, letting go of their entwined hands. “I have to say I don’t understand. I don’t understand why she would tell you … or why she would put you in that kind of danger. It’s … she … acted so selfishly. Don’t you think if she cared for you at all that she would have wanted to protect you from such a terrible curse?” She dropped her hand to the bed, steadying her body.

Of course Harper would never think there was anything to the story besides Carey being selfish and reckless.

“She did try to protect me.”

“Even with Starling?” she asked softly, as if the words weren’t an accusation, rather a way to draw his attention to what really mattered.

“I’m not sure what she was trying to do by not telling me about Starling, but I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Do you think she didn’t tell you about Starling because Starling is a nymph?”

“I’m not sure she is a nymph. I can’t just come out and ask her. She barely knows me,” Chance said. “But maybe she’ll tell me when she’s ready. At least I hope so.”

“That still doesn’t make sense as to why Carey wouldn’t have told you about your child.”

“As many problems as Carey had, she wasn’t all bad. There was a time when she was great. Times when her only goal in life was to be happy — and maybe she thought by not telling me she could get back to being happy.”

“Being happy doesn’t always mean you are making the right choice. Sometimes you have to think about other people before yourself.”

“Harper, she was aware of the consequences of her curse — and she wanted to protect me, but she didn’t need to … There’s something about me you don’t know.”

Her fingers slipped from the sheets and she turned and exposed all of her beautiful form. She deserved to know the truth, especially since he knew the truth about her. And who knew, maybe they could make this more than a one night thing, but in order for anything to happen they needed to stand on even ground.

“What don’t I know?”

There was no going back. “I’m … like you.”

“You mean a shifter?”

He shook his head. “No … not a shifter. I’m a demigod. My mother was human and my father was a god.”

He half expected her to run from the room, but Harper sat still as she must have been thinking about his revelation.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve met a demigod.”

He exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“If you’re a demigod,” Harper paused, “does that mean Zeus’s curse doesn’t affect you?”

“I’m not completely immortal. I’m like you, harder to kill than a mere human, but given the chance to live as an immortal. As for Zeus’s curse … ” He shrugged. “I’m still here. I loved Carey, but I don’t know if she felt the same. It’s hard to say exactly what effect the curse has on a demigod, but I’m not gonna worry about what could happen.”

The air buzzed with unspoken concerns. From the troubled look upon Harper’s beautiful face, it was easy to see that she didn’t agree. “You probably don’t really want to hear about my relationship with Carey, but the truth is that she was worried about the curse too. We took one day at a time. We loved each other, but there was always a wall.”

Chance tried to not stare at the tender skin of Harper’s thighs and think of running his fingers up that skin to make her forget their troubles. “Carey would never admit that she was running from some of her feelings. And I never blamed her. She couldn’t let herself love when all she knew that I could be killed anytime for our love.”

“You don’t need to explain the way Carey felt to me,” Harper said softly. “I know how a nymph must guard her heart out of the fear of losing the person she cares about.”

“Sometimes running away is the only answer.”
But it didn’t make the pain any less intense.
“Who is your father?” Harper asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

“My father was the god Caerus, the youngest child of Zeus.”

“Your father’s the god of luck? No wonder you’re a gambler.”

“There’s a lot more to being a good gambler besides just being lucky. You have to be smart and know when you should take a bet or walk away. And more than anything, you need to know when to take a chance.”

Chance had slipped out of her bedroom in the night, making an excuse of Starling in the house as a need to hide their night of passion. He was right, but her arms had never felt emptier. For a moment, Harper wondered if she had made a mistake in allowing her body to overtake her mind, but then she thought of the secrets they shared and the new and overwhelming connection they had made. They had shared things about themselves that few were privy to — there was no going back to an in-the-box friendship. They had moved into a new realm of a relationship — more than friends, sharing lovers, but, each for their own reasons, still unable to love.

Chance had talked about being a good gambler and knowing it was more than luck. Sometimes being good was knowing what bet to take and when to walk away. For Harper, this was one of those moments in life when she needed to look to the lessons and pain of her past. If she had learned anything, anything at all, she had learned that love was one bet she was not willing, to take — love only ended with heartbreak.

Of all of the people in the house, she and Chance were the last people who needed to further their relationship. Chance needed to concentrate on his newly acquired daughter. Starling needed him. She needed love. And she needed to find closure following her mother’s untimely death. Any child who shut herself away from the world so dramatically needed help the most. Though Harper could try to connect with the girl, the one who held the lone key was Chance.

Chance admitted he knew nearly zero about how to deal with a teenage nymph. To be honest, Harper barely had a clue either. A teenage girl was an enigma — not quite woman, but no longer a child; able to love, but unable to love those closest to her. As different as Starling was, with her quiet demeanor and standoffish ways, beneath it all she was still a teen. She was still a child who had to be aching after the loss of the person dearest to her, yet she was forced to be a woman out of the circumstances of her past and present.

Of the numerous inspirational posters Harper had seen on her email and social media, one clicked into her mind —
the first step is always the hardest
. Maybe those cliché little posters were right. Maybe the first step with Starling would be the hardest, but it was a step that needed to be taken.

Harper pushed herself out of bed, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her normally brilliant eyes carried the dullness created from a lack of sleep and too many worries. She walked to her suitcase and flipped it open. Her shirts and pants were divided, each item folded at an exact dimension to match the article of clothing beneath.

Her thoughts moved to Chance. Would he be able to handle the journey he was going to have to undertake with Starling? Could he handle the pressures and needs of the teenager? Would he even be able to take the first step — or would he and the girl keep each other at arm’s length while the time passed until she was of an age to take care of herself?

Last night had proven he had the ability to open up and share, but sharing with a sullen teenager was far different than sharing with a woman who lay in his arms. Starling had no reason to feel anything for Chance, at least nothing approaching affection.

If anything, Chance had failed. He had failed to know Starling was alive. He’d never reached out to Carey, had never known he had a child, and now that Starling was alone the State wanted him to take control of her life? It was no wonder that the girl barely spoke or addressed them — and Harper couldn’t blame her.

Harper slipped on a pair of finely pressed khaki pants and one of her least expensive cashmere sweaters. She feared going downstairs and facing the fallout of last night’s mistake. It wouldn’t surprise her, after her track record with relationships, if Chance had already slipped out with his teenage daughter in tow. So many times in her life she’d had a man leave her bed in the night never to set foot back into her life.