Cupcakes, Curses, and Spirits (Blue Moon Bay Book 3)

By: Jovee Winters

Prologue




The Book

1716 AD

“The night was long, and the moon was at its peak in the sky—a velvety shade of misty blue. Fog rolled in from the still waters surrounding them. The girl held the hands of her lover, knowing if she let go, they would never find their way back to one another again.

How had he found her? She’d been so careful. So very, very careful.

“Ye think I would allow this?”

“Da, please,” she pleaded, her voice cracking as magick, her magick, curled tight from her fingers. “I... I love him.”

Her father snarled, and the heavens quaked.

The world whipped with the source of the life giver’s fury. Her father, normally so jovial and gregarious with eyes that burned like silver frost and a face more handsome than any mortal’s, glowered at his daughter with a look that sent chills straight through her veins.

“Say goodbye, Bláth.” His voice rolled like thunder, and the ground at their feet trembled. Giant cracks of lightning rent the night, causing her to shiver as needles of ice and rain suddenly pelted her face.

She looked over at him—her lover, her friend, her everything.

Long, wavy black hair framed his beloved face. His eyes were a rich shade of indigo, glittered with the jewels of a thousand stars, and his skin was as dark as freshly tilled earth. He lifted a hand and tenderly drew his finger down the side of her face.

She shuddered, and her skin breathed with the light of her people—glowing like an ivory pearl in the darkness and lighting up all of the woods.

“Do not be afraid,” he said, his voice deep and powerful.

Bás, as he was called to the kin, was a devastating and wrecking force of nature that had only ever held her in reverence and tenderness.

She tried to memorize the handsome lines of his face through her tears, but he was little more than a vague blur of light and shadows. “I am afeared,” she whispered. “I canna—”

He shook his head, causing his waves of hair to feather around his sinisterly handsome features. Sharp, slashing lines made up the whole of him. His looks were severe, harsh, and stern, as if he’d been cut from granite. But his heart was what had driven Bláth to him. What he looked like was not who he was. He was kind and gentle, patient and so very tender. And he had the voice of an angel when he sang. His rich timbre had never failed to elicit tears in her.

He was death until he sang, then he brought life to everything he touched.

“Ye can, and ye will. Take care of the bairn.” He palmed her stomach with his large powerful hand.

She shivered. Barely even two months along, she hardly even showed. But the bairn was the evidence of their unyielding love for one another.

Her father’s growl of disapproval rocked the land beneath their feet, causing her to sway and cry out. But Bás was there to hold her and to right her—her helpmate, her beloved. How could she leave him? How could she bear it?

Fingers trembling, she clasped his jaw, memorizing every inch of him all over again and committing him completely to her heart so that whenever she closed her eyes, he would be there, never to be taken away again.

His long, dark, frost-tipped lashes fluttered when she touched him. She felt the blade piercing his chest, his soul, and his heart. They were no longer two, but one, connected soul to soul. Their love was forged in the bonds of the deeply forbidden passion they shared. His pain was hers, and hers was his.

“The bairn will not be ours to keep.” Her father’s terrible words cut through their moment like a sword thrust through her body.

She cried out and hugged her flat belly. “Ye canna mean ta—”

“I can. And I will.” The king snarled, his handsome visage twisting into the stuff of nightmares. “When the bairn is born, I will toss it into this world.”

Bás shoved her behind him, his powerful body quivering like a tightly wound bow string as he glared at her father. There wasn’t anyone as powerful as her Da, not even Bás. But he was a man in love, a man desperate to save that which he loved most.

It was anathema to her father that Bás had committed the ultimate act of betrayal against him. Bás had been created as a weapon, a force of destruction born of fire and stars, created not to have a soul, not even a heart.

But Bláth had been instantly drawn to the sad, lonely man with star-flecked eyes. She shouldn’t have done it, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d touched him. And in that one touch, she’d saved him. She’d birthed something new, something infinitely more powerful.

They’d both known they couldn’t escape the wrath of the all-seeing king for long, but she would cherish the few months they’d had together all the days of her lonely life. Even if it was death that awaited her, she could not regret what she’d known for only a brief moment in time.

Their child breathed within her. She wrapped an arm around her middle. Bás held her free hand in his, so careful to never harm her. He brought her knuckles to his mouth and tenderly dropped a warm kiss onto it, nuzzling her skin with the tip of his long nose and breathing her in like a fine mead. She felt alive, enflamed by his touch and devastated to her very core that never again would she know his caresses. Never again would she awaken to find him over her, bearing his body into hers and imprinting himself as hers. And only ever hers.