Cursed: Out of Ash and Flame

and suffering for something he didn’t do? What if the bounty wasn’t put out in good conscience? What if he’s like me?
Mentally, I shake my head, dismissing the quiet voice. Sad story or not, it isn’t worth the risk to lose my place on this plane. I can’t go back to the fae realm. I won’t.
“I don’t blame you,” the mark says. “Breaking contracts usually ends badly.”
This kid is dangerous. Ready to weaponize empathy at the opportune moment. I’ll have to keep a sharp eye on him, even more so than normal. Or better yet, I’ll have to use his own game against him, twist things back around. He’s not the only one with a little savvy.
Forcing my stiff muscles into a sympathetic frown, I flop into the armchair, legs hanging over one of its arms. “Was your dad one of her conquests, Max?” I ask, using his name for the first time since Yaritza handed him off to me.
It comes out clumsy. Awkward.
Max just smiles and lifts his shoulders. “Could’ve been. Water spirits seduce each other sometimes. They see it as a bit of a challenge. That’s usually how any full water spirits are born at all.”
My face twists. “Contest babies?”
Max snaps his fingers. “I like that. Contest babies. Or maybe trophy offspring. Like a trophy husband or wife, just with kids.” He shivers a little, shaking out his arms. “That thought kind of skeeves me out since I am one. Not that I don’t think I’m a prize, because obviously I am.”
His grin broadens, tilting toward something beautiful, but somehow less believable. It doesn’t take much for me to imagine falling for someone like this. I’ve heard all about the seductive power of water spirits like him. On occasion, it seeps out of Yaritza when fists aren’t enough to get her way, but Max’s brand of charisma entices in a unique way.
A deep part of me wants to believe him.
I swing one of my legs. “Are all water spirits as cocky as you?”
“Oh no.” Max waves a hand. “Some of us are downright arrogant.”
Again, I can’t help but splutter a laugh. “And the evidence propping up these egos?”
“Mad skill, dashing good looks?” Max crosses an ankle over one of his knees. “But in all seriousness, there is somewhat of a hierarchy in our culture based on conquests. It’s a sign not only of innate talent, but also shrewdness. Using charm, your brain in general, to fight rather than your fists.”
Brow lifted, I rest my head against one of the chair wings. “Lovers honored over fighters?”
“Lovers are fighters.” Max steeples his fingers. “We don’t win battles by breaking bones; we win them by breaking hearts.”
“Careful there, you’re giving away your playbook.”
“Maybe that’s intentional.” Seriousness stretches the shadows on his face. “Maybe I’m using transparency as a way to look vulnerable without actually being vulnerable. Maybe even now, my honesty is just a way of throwing you off balance, building a false sense of confidence.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, inches from me. “Maybe I’m dealing blows you won’t feel until I want you to feel them.”
Every hair on my body lifts, and I suppress the urge to back away. A response runs up my throat but slips right back down into my chest where it lands like a dead weight. It lays there, utterly useless to help me in this invisible battle of charm and charisma. With a few words, Max completely disarmed me, even so far as stalling out my brain entirely.
Then he grins wide. With a wink, he kicks back, resting his crossed ankles on the coffee table and the back of his head in his hands. “Not a bad way to fight, huh?”
Anger swarms my mind like hornets. The floor rocks under me. “Not bad at all,” I say through clenched teeth, annoyed I’d let him twist me like that. “That’s very powerful magic.”
“Not magic,” Max says. “Just words.”
I grit my molars but keep my expression as neutral as possible. “You didn’t use a spell at all?”
“Pretty impressive, right?”
“Right.” I cross my arms and refuse to accept the reality that I’m pouting. “Most effective. Good thing I can tell you to shut it with my binding spell. Otherwise, I might be in trouble.”
Max’s Adam’s apple bobs. “But then you wouldn’t be able to hear the sound of my lovely voice, and that would be a shame for us both.”
I force on a smile without attempting to make it believable. “Don’t tempt me, water spirit. Because whether you’re lying or not, I can promise you that I will preserve the contract, and if I have to silence you to do it, then I will.”
THREE HOURS OF RESTLESS sleep later, I stomp back into the living room, bleary-eyed and banging on the walls with the side of my fist to get Max out of the pipes. “Come on out. We’re leaving before sunup.”
The water spirit materializes in the kitchen, resting one elbow on the counter with a wide grin. “In a rush to get rid of me?”
Pulling open cabinets to find coffee, I stifle a yawn. “In a rush to be on time. Whoever ordered the bounty on you has been waiting for a while. Plus, I still don’t know for sure whether or not your friends are on our tail. The faster I can unload you, the better.”
I scoop heaping spoonfuls of Cafe du Monde roast into the filter. The smell alone thins the heavy weight of exhaustion draped over me. Leave it to Yaritza to stock this place with the good stuff. As the dark liquid burbles, Max digs around in the fridge, emerging with bacon, eggs, heavy whipping cream, and butter seconds later.
That wide grin still in place, he holds them up. “Got time for real food, or are we eating on the run?”
Usually, I’d say no, but refusing bacon simply isn’t in my DNA. We never had much of that in the fae realm. Addiction captured me upon my first