Black Heart (Cursed Hearts 1)

“And how did the trip go?” she asked, dropping her arms from around his neck so that she could push his underwear down the rest of the way.

Sighing with frustration, he stepped out of his underwear and kicked it to the side. “Another dead end.”

“Are you going to check out that lead down in Massachusetts next week?” she asked, hating the idea of spending another week without him.

He shook his head as he leaned down and kissed her. “I’m done for now.”

“Why?”

“Because I missed you too much,” he confessed, making her smile.

“Really?”

“Really,” he said, pressing one last kiss against her lips before he stepped away from her and sat on the edge of the bed. “Besides, Ashlyn is finally back in town.”

“Shayne must be thrilled,” she said, smiling when Tristan shifted to free himself.

Well, she couldn’t very well allow that, now could she? Before he could bring his knees up, Marty was pushing him down on the bed and sitting on his lap.

“Rot in hell, ye bastards!” they heard Shayne shout seconds before the sounds of a door down the hall being slammed shut reached their room.

“He’s thrilled,” he said dryly as he lay back on the bed.

“Apparently,” she said with a smile as she reached down and grabbed a handful of her cotton nightgown. She pulled it off and was about to toss it aside when the strained expression on Tristan’s face caught her attention.

“Your shoulder?” she asked, dropping the nightgown on the floor as she scrambled to get off him, praying that she hadn’t hurt him. Damn it, she should have known better.

“Yeah,” he said with a slight groan that had her frantically searching for a key.

“Got it,” she said, picking up the key from the bottom drawer and moving to turn around and free him when a large tan hand slowly snatched the key out of her hand.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing that,” he whispered seductively as she registered the feel of his lips brushing over her neck.

It took her a few seconds before she realized that he’d somehow managed to pull her arms behind her back and handcuffed her without her knowing it.

Damn, he was good.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back until she was pressed tightly against his body. “Why don’t I show you how much I missed you?”

“And how long do you think that will take?” she asked, loving the way it felt to be in his arms, whole.

“For the rest of my life, mo shonuachar.”

Epilogue

“Stop f**king judging me!”

“It’s a stupid show!”

“It’s misunderstood!”

“It was supposed to be a three hour tour. Why the hell did they need all that f**king luggage?”

Shayne glared at Finn as he pointed towards his open bedroom door. “I told ye never to bring that up again!”

“It’s a stupid show,” Finn muttered with a shrug before he disappeared.

“Yer dead to me, ye bastard!” Shayne yelled after the confused bastard.

It was a great show, damn it!

“How are they supposed to make banana cream pies on a deserted island without milk, flour, or butter?” Declean demanded from the comfort of Shayne’s bed.

Shayne didn’t bother answering him as he flipped Declean off and stormed out of his bedroom. As he walked down the hall towards Tristan’s bedroom he cursed Declean and his precious Food Channel to hell and back. Thanks to that betraying bastard he now had a craving for banana cream pie and no way to get his hands on one.

“Sorry, lad,” Quinn said with a shrug as he appeared in front of Tristan’s door.

“Still?” Shayne asked, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“Aye,” Quinn said, chuckling. “Seems the lad really missed her.”

“Oh, come on! It’s been two days!”

Quinn simply shrugged as he gestured for Shayne to turn around and leave. Snorting in disgust, Shayne moved to pound on Tristan’s door. Two days with Marty was more than enough, especially since he was bored and wanted to get out of here for a while.

“Think again, lad,” Quinn said, grabbing him.

One second he was raising his hand to pound on Tristan’s door and remind the bastard that he’d promised to give him a ride into town and the next he was standing in the middle of the foyer. It took him a minute before he realized what his brother had done to him.

“No f**king way……”

“I’m embarrassed for ye, lad,” Aidan said in a mock whisper as he appeared to Shayne’s right.

“Aye, he just manhandled ye like ye were his bitch or something,” Finn said, shaking his head in disgust. “Are ye really gonna take that, lad?”

This couldn’t be said enough, being human f**king sucked.

He went from being able to go and do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted to being completely dependent on his brothers for everything. It grated in the worst possible way. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t pulled his own weight. Even in his cursed form he’d taken care of himself, protected himself and Tristan. He’d had a use, but now….

Now he was completely useless.

His brothers protected him from spirits and f**ked him over for their own entertainment. The little brother that he’d been sworn to protect and care for now took care of him. Tristan gave him shelter, food, clothes and spending money like he was some f**king child instead of a full-grown man.

He hated it.

He hated this whole f**ked up situation. He’d been raised that taking charity was wrong. Unless a man was dead or dying, he should be taking care of himself and his family. If he’d been back in his own time, he would have simply picked up a sword and sold his services to the highest bidder and provided for himself. Beyond playing video games and surfing the internet, he had no modern day skills that he could use.

Hell, he couldn’t even drive a car. He didn’t have an education, could barely read English and at least once a day he forgot that he couldn’t simply walk through doors and walls and gave his jackass brothers something to laugh their asses off about.

If his brothers didn’t need him to help with the curse, he would have walked head on into traffic and gladly welcomed the curse back. As much as they pissed him off, he loved them. They were his family and the best friends that he’d ever had. For them he’d put up with the annoying soul mate that he’d rather throttle than fu-