Cursed

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Authors: Rebecca Trynes
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fifty.”
    “Now that’s more like it,” she replied with a grin that caused another unexpected stir of some unknown emotion within. “A real renaissance man. Where were you born?”
    “The Netherlands.” He hadn’t made a conscious decision to answer her and was uneasy that he had spoken so readily.
    She looked at him speculatively, her blue eyes searching his face as if cataloguing his features. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. Have you travelled much these past few centuries?”
    “Quite a bit, actually.” Again with the mouth opening, the words spilling out without conscious thought. What was the matter with him? Was this a side effect of the drugged blood he had ingested? This loosening of his tongue? Pressing his lips together, he bid them stay shut.
    “What did you do for money? I’m sure you must have had a hundred different jobs by now.”
    She was looking at him so expectantly that he couldn’t keep himself from answering her. “I was in the military for a bit.”
    “Really?” Knox asked, surprise evident in his tone. “When?”
    He sent a brief glance Knox’s way. He might be unable to keep his mouth shut for Sienna, but he found no trouble in ignoring the blonde. When it became evident that he wasn’t going to answer, Sienna prompted him with the same question.
    Grimacing slightly, he looked back at her. “Sporadically, but mostly in the early 1900s.”
    There was a moment of silence and then she seemed to catch on to all that he’d left out. “But you were born in the 1600s. What did you do before then?”
    Damn her and her questions and his inability to deflect them with silence. Fine, she wanted to know what he did before then, perhaps this answer would deter her from asking any more questions.
    “I wasn’t interested in working back then. I was invisible to the human race. I took what I wanted.”
    “Oh.” Sienna pressed her back against the sofa, suddenly deflated.
    There. Finally. No more questions.
    “What changed?”
    Oh, for the love of God. He was not going to answer that.
    “Early 1900s,” Knox mused as the silence stretched, his expression thoughtful. “That would be right around the time that I met him, I think?”
    “Really? Isn’t that interesting?” Sienna said archly, looking from him to Knox and back again.
    He would have liked to tell the male not to get any ideas, but the truth of the matter was, Knox did have a big hand in his change of heart when it came to money and living in the economic world. Knox had had a hand in a lot of things that he would never admit to: unless a certain blue-eyed female managed to magic the answer from his tongue. Thankfully, Sienna’s attention was successfully deflected from asking him any more questions, her gaze instead focusing on Knox. He should have been grateful, but it seemed he wasn’t in his right mind at the moment and her attention to the blonde made him itchy.
    As the two of them talked about Knox’s early days of being a vampire and what it’s like having a son who looks the same age as you, he realised that he was brooding. He’d never been a brooder. Well, not since his adolescence when he had nothing better to do than lay in bed and ask the question ‘why?’.
    Why was he the only vampire in existence who couldn’t seem to stomach the blood that should keep him vibrant and healthy? Why was he doomed to an existence of being weak and pitiful while those around him were strong and lively?
    Enough. He made a conscious effort to stop the inner ramblings from his youth from getting any more air-time than they had a right to. Those days were long gone. He knew the kind of blood he needed and he knew how to get it. The ‘whys’ were no longer important.
    The thought of blood had his eyes drifting back to Sienna.

 
    5
     
    As Knox and Lucas occupied themselves playing the Wii, Sienna was left free to contemplate the mystery that was Greyvian Kobussen. Was his silent Zen expression real, or was it

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