Free Shadow's Curse by Alexa Egan

bright round moon of Silmith. He felt silver burning like acid against his bare skin and the Ossine’s flames searing his clan mark from his back with the stink of charred flesh. He heard himself screaming as if he were being cleaved in two before his agonized shouts died away to slow gulping moans, whispered pleas for mercy, and finally begging for death.
    Darkness and a frozen, knifing cold pierced every part of David as he was buried beneath an avalanche of happiness and heartbreak. On and on it went, tumbling him breathless, lifting him high only to crush him with a mountain’s weight of raw emotion. He felt the earth-shattering passion of a marriage bed, moonlight gleaming in a pair of dark eyes as his bride took him inside her and he marked her forever as his chosen mate. He tasted the salt of her skin and the wine upon her tongue and the sweet lush heat of her woman’s place as she gasped her release. He smelled thepowdery fresh scent of a child’s hair and the starch of clean linen as he held the precious bundle in his arms. He heard the cries of a new mother and the squall of an angry infant and the soft voice of a young girl calling for her father to read her a bedtime story and chase away the bogeymen.
    A tremor racked his body, and he gritted his teeth until the battering storm of sensation passed. Not memories this time; not shades pulled from his past. He would call them dreams, but somehow he knew better. They held too much power, buried themselves too deep into his brain. This was Fey-blood magic at its most potent and most prophetic. But did Callista realize what she’d done? What he’d seen?
    He squeezed his eyes shut, but not before a final horrible image passed like a shadow over his heart. “David?” A hand touched him, heat where there had been only cold. It filled the emptiness, tore through the dark like a blade through a curtain.
    He opened his eyes to see Callista watching him carefully, worry in her gaze, but nothing else. Her pulse beat wildly in her throat and her cheeks were flushed pink.
    “Did I do it right?” she asked. “Do you think we convinced her?” Her head tilted like a bird’s as she awaited his answer. Nothing but innocence in her expression. She was either unaware of what he’d seen or a damned good actress.
    He shoved the darkness away and forced a weak smile. “Covent Garden cyprians couldn’t have been more convincing.”
    A line appeared between her brows. “Is that supposed to make me proud?”
    “Only if you appreciate what skilled professionals they are.”
    She gave a tiny shake of her head, almost but not quite reaching for him. He wouldn’t have even noticed the slight movement except they were still crushed against each other amid the mountain of discarded coats. She offered him a quick smile, here and gone between one breath and the next. “I’ll assume you know all too well, so I shall take it as another compliment.”
    She looked as if she wanted to continue the conversation, but he forestalled her by taking her arm and leading her back into the crowded corridor. The last thing he wanted to do while he remained off-kilter and dazed was to talk. Who knew what foolishness he might utter?
    By now the guests had thickened to an outright crush. None would notice two more amid the cacophonic mob of rich and titled packed into every square inch of breathing room. Holding his head above the swarm and gripping Callista’s hand in his, David bulled his way through to the French doors fronting the gardens, an instance where his sheer mass was an advantage.
    The terrace was nearly deserted. Fairy lanterns strung between the trees glimmered down on only a few strolling couples. The press of humanity had not yet reached this far.
    “We’re almost there. The mews is through that gate. We can be away before our pursuers realize what’s happened.”
    They crossed the lawn to the back wall in silence. David shoved hard on the gate, hinges giving way with a