The Line That Binds Series Box Set (38 page)

“Is that …?”

“Looks like it,” he replied, flipping it to view at a different angle and pointing to the grooves along the flat surface. “They’re words, just like you spotted in the paintings.”

I placed my fingers near his and rubbed them over the gouges. “What does it say?” The letters were etched deep and distinct. I leaned closer to Ben as he tipped the rock toward me.

He slid his index finger below each groove as he read. “Give of yourself, part of the line. Make one wish to set the bind.”

“This is it, right?” I asked with a smile, though tears welled in my eyes with the truth of it all. “So it was her. Dahlia did this, whatever it is. An enchantment, or a curse, or something.” I looked at the words again as Ben’s lips moved, repeating them silently to himself.

“When Pop told me about the well, he’d said it was cursed and that it only wanted Janine’s blood, meaning family blood. I guess that’s the first part. Your bloodline. You cut yourself that day at the well.”

“I did,” I agreed, looking at the new pink flesh under my thumb. “‘Make one wish to set the bind’ is pretty literal. I wished some things after I’d figured out what happened with Gavin, but no wish I thought came true.”

“Except the first,” Ben said, setting the rock down and grabbing my hand. “You were upset that day, remember?”

“How could I forget? I got that disgusting text from Mark and I’d already had a disagreement with Dad. Then I couldn’t concentrate with you walking around shirtless.” I smirked.

He let out a breathy laugh. “The green shirt,” he said, pulling me in between his legs and wrapping his arms around my waist. His hand swept my hair to the side so he could press his lips to the base of my neck. “But, do you remember your wish that day?”

I leaned back against his chest and rested my hands on his knees, contemplating. “I didn’t hear any voices that day. But I got a headache and a nosebleed when I came back inside. That’s when I found out Dad had gotten the job.” I pulled in a quick breath. “That’s what I wished for. Dad to get a job.”

He brushed his lips along the back of my neck and inhaled my hair. His quiet breath drifted over my skin as my mind whirled.

I reached under my legs for the journal and flipped through its pages. “His family will have what they want once, and then they will serve others until their final thought fades,” I read from the journal again. “She didn’t get to keep him. She only had him once, which means at one time, not forever. So we get to make one wish. And because she was a servant, the curse makes us grant other people’s wishes, like serving them. ‘Until our final thought fades.’ So this is for life? I will hear other people’s voices for the rest of my life because one of my ancestors chose the wrong woman?” A single tear ran from my eye, as lonely as I suddenly felt. As lonely as Dahlia probably felt. I breathed deeply and Ben pulled me tighter into him.

“I’m not sure what it all means, LJ, but, if I could change it all, I would.”

I nodded to acknowledge his words, still deep in thought.
There has to be something else.
I turned inside his folded body and slid my legs over his thighs to face him. “The mortar in the well left outlines for three stones.”

“Yes,” Ben said, staring into my eyes intently.

“Do you think that means there’s more to this? And if so, what?”

“I’m not sure,” he whispered, looking down and grabbing my hands.

“Maybe there’s a way to end it all,” I muttered as I looked down at Ben’s hands, caressing mine so thoughtfully. “I wonder if Janine ever found them … or if she had to hear the voices until she died.” That thought scared me because if Janine hadn’t found anything else, the chances of me finding something were infinitely worse. A sob escaped my lips.

Ben’s hands left mine and reached up to my face to cradle my jaw. “Hey,” he said, running his thumbs under my eyes as a few more fearful tears tumbled out. “I don’t think there’s a way for me to make this easier for you, but I’m going to try. I’ll help you, LJ. I’m here.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, knowing his words were true.

“I’ll search this whole house a hundred times over. I’ll dig. I’ll
clean
!” he said with a large, infectious smile.

I smiled in return and sniffled. “Is that so?”

“Hmm.” His dark eyes wandered to the ceiling for a moment before delving back into my eyes, and possibly my soul. His dimples deepened as his smile grew wider. “I’m willing to as long as some of the cleaning involves bubbles.” I laughed lightly. His gaze became more intense and serious again. “I will be here.”

And I knew he would.

Lost again

in an empty sea of familiarity.

Digging through pieces

from another mind.

The ache returns

with confusion and fear.

It settles in

unrestrained.

No direction to wander,

no ending near.

A cursed destination.

Forever my plight.

Tonight was the last night.

Dahlia pulled on her jacket and stepped into the darkness. The air nipped at her face and fingers, but she pushed on, knowing this would be the last night she knelt before the well.

The moon hovered low on the horizon, giving just enough light to guide her across the still property. Winter was close. Color had fallen from the trees and the sun was setting earlier every day. Travel would be harder now, harsher, making the possibility of finding a new home more difficult. Nevertheless, it wasn’t enough to dissuade Dahlia from leaving. The only thing that worried her now was how the Stocktons would treat her servant mother after she had gone. Mr. Stockton had passed last month, which meant Charles, with some guidance from his mother, was now in charge of the estate.

Dahlia stopped in front of the well and gazed up to the mansion like she had every night for weeks. Noticing a dim light in the farthest of the upstairs windows, she crouched low to hide. It was Charles’ office, not his and Sarah’s bedroom. Unfortunately, Dahlia knew which bedroom was theirs most of all—it could’ve been hers. In the weeks following the wedding, she’d been called upon to help clean their house. Their room. Every time she had to change the blankets on their bed, it made her physically ill. Thoughts of their lovemaking charged her mind. They ripped at her heart every day and haunted her every night. But they also fueled her anger, and kept her coming back to the well.

Seeing no movement within the lit room, she decided to continue. She stayed low and twisted sideways to keep an eye on the window. Digging into her pocket, she removed a thin iron pick. Its rounded tip had been worn close to its base. Her palm gripped the cool metal and its grooves settled into the cuts already etched in her skin. She located the final area of stone then started to scratch.

Hours later, after the last letter was done and her hands were raw and bloody once more, Dahlia read the words aloud and rubbed her hands over the stones. She thought of him as she spoke. Thought of him lying in her bed. His lips caressing hers. His promise for forever.

This was her promise to him and she was certain it would last longer than his had.

It would surpass their lifetimes.

Letting the pick fall to the ground, Dahlia turned toward the house again. A silhouette stood at the window, darkened by the dim light at its back.

It was him.

Charles.

She stared at his figure, knowing he was looking at her too. For one weakened moment, she longed to see his green eyes, taste the breath of his kiss, and feel the comfort of his arms again. Warm tears rolled over her icy cheeks, waking her from the spell.

He’d made his choice.

It wasn’t her.

So she walked away from the well, leaving the darkened figure behind and never looking back.

“LJ, wake up,” Ben’s voice drifted over my ears, a quiet whisper.

I kept still in my fetal position and breathed his pillow in deeply, loving the way it felt to wake up surrounded entirely by the smell of him. His hand glided from my waist down to my thigh, where his fingers began tracing circles just below the edge of my jean shorts. I smiled and pulled the pillow closer to my face, not wanting to fully wake yet.

“Hey,” he whispered again and I felt the weight of him as he lay behind me. “I love that you want to be here in my junky room, lying in my cheap-ass bed. You’re making it so hard tonight.”

“I’m making it hard, am I?” I muttered into the pillow. My body shook with silent giggles.

His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back against him. Then he buried his face into my hair and kissed below my ear. “Keep moving like that and it’ll happen.”

“Mmm. Is that a promise?” I asked, turning over and opening my eyes to the pair of intense browns I was falling hard for. Any time they gazed at me, it was like there was nothing they’d rather see. They made my heart stop. Every time. In the past, I’d gotten plenty of looks: sleazy, indifferent, and looks of bitter envy or hate. But never this. This was something completely different. This was adoration, passion, and devotion combined in one heavenly, soul-penetrating mix. I ached for it daily. And I was certain my eyes told him the same.

He sighed and touched his nose to mine. “A promise that I can’t keep tonight since your dad gets home soon.” I whined at his words and he chuckled.

I pulled away from his face and looked at the blackout curtains not needed at this hour. We’d hung them a few days after his birthday, though we never did “test” them. After discovering the well stone, we decided to put sex on hold in order to stay focused on finding more answers about the curse. It was tough. Any time we were together, I couldn’t wait to touch him. With his weighty sighs after our heavy make-out sessions, I knew he felt the same. We filled any spare time with dirt bike rides and normal conversations about our favorite colors and plans for the future, but most of the time we ended the nights longing for more. Tonight would be no different.