Cursed: Brides of the Kindred 13 by Evangeline Anderson Page B

was hurt. But a quick check revealed nothing obvious, even though he still smelled blood on her. Also, she’d said she had a medical condition that was helped by a certain kind of medicine. But what medicine and where did she keep it?
    It was a circular question—there was no way of knowing since she was incapable of answering him.
    Seeing the agony on her face and feeling the pain beating against his own mental barriers, Stavros felt a rush of pity and concerned protectiveness sweeping over him again. Gods, she was so small and this torturing pain was ripping her apart! If only there was a way he could help her…
    Suddenly something occurred to him. He’d been wishing she had an obvious wound so he could heal her, as his kind healed their mates. But there was something he could do that most other Blood Kindred could not. As a Cursed One, he could take some of her pain into himself for a little while and give her at least a little relief. At least, he could have done so if she was his mate.
    She’s not my mate but she did make my fangs sharpen as no other female has done, he reminded himself. And I find her most…compelling. Yes, maybe it would be possible…
    It wouldn’t be good for him, of course. It would be the physiological equivalent of taking poison into his body and it would probably shorten his already short life span. But he couldn’t think of any other way to help her.
    “Charlotte,” he murmured. “Look at me. I’m going to touch you and try to ease the pain.”
    She shook her head, clearly not understanding. That was all right—the time for talk was over. Stav cupped her cheek, feeling her softness in the palm of his hand. Skin-to-skin contact would make this easier—or so he hoped. He knew it always made blocking anyone else’s pain out more difficult if he was touching them. So touching her should make him more able to transfer her pain to himself.
    Then he took a deep breath to prepare for the grinding, stabbing agony, he let down his shields.
    Immediately the brutal flow of pain flooded him, so much that he could barely remain upright. He was crouched beside Charlotte’s chair, looking into her eyes which were clouded with torment but for a moment he almost fell over onto the floor. Only the dawning recognition in those lovely chocolate brown depths kept him upright.
    “Your medicine,” he rasped, forcing himself to stand though he wanted to bend double with the pain. “Where is it? Tell me now. I cannot…cannot keep this up much longer.”
    “Medicine cabinet,” she whispered. “The mirror on the wall opens—inside is a brown bottle. That’s it.”
    “Good.” Stavros hobbled back to the small fresher area and looked in the area she had said. He was glad to find the little brown bottle almost at once. He was only taking about half of Charlotte’s pain but it was still bad enough to nearly incapacitate him. Gods, how did she deal with this every month?
    When he made it back to her, he fell on his knees and fumbled with the lid of the little bottle. For some stupid reason, it wouldn’t come off. Stav swore under his breath and twisted harder as the loose metal cuffs there were still dangling from his wrists jangled—how in the Seven Hells did you get the damn thing open?
    “Here. Childproof…lid.” Charlotte reached out a hand for the bottle. Her words meant nothing to him but Stav gave her the bottle. She did something which made it pop open and shook two pills into her trembling palm.
    “Take them quickly,” he told her. “I cannot…I fear I cannot help much longer.”
    She dry swallowed the small white pills with difficulty and closed her eyes.
    Stavros waited anxiously, trying to gauge the effect the medicine had on her. He was frustrated when he didn’t feel any lessoning of the agony.
    “Well?” he asked at last, feeling on the very edge of his strength. “Why is your pain not less?”
    Her eyes opened slowly. “Takes awhile…to kick in. How do you know about the