Read Online Curses! by J. A. Kazimer - Free Book Online

wasn’t my first thought upon waking. Nope. My first thoughts incorporated a naked Asia and a vat of cotton candy. Weird, but understandable when one considered the fluffy pink bedspread wound tightly around my thighs.
    The heady scent of “this little piggy” frying and coffee tickled my nostrils, forcing my eyes open. It smelled much like heaven. Or how I imagined heaven smelled, since bacon would be as close to heaven as a villain like me could get. Who needed wings and a harp anyway? Not me. Not when I had a redheaded not-so-ugly princess.
    Speaking of my princess. I rolled out from under my cotton candy tomb, stood, and stretched the kinks from my back. The damn pink bed was at least a foot too short. I’d spent much of the night in the fetal position, which wasn’t one of my top ten favorite positions.
    After showering and dressing in my finest villainous uniform of black T-shirt and jeans, I descended the miles of palace stairs. Down and down I went. My legs burned from the trek, but my mind was focused on obtaining two goals.
    Coffee and killing my ex-wife.
    Not in that order, necessarily.
    I wasn’t unreasonable, though; I’d settle for tea if I had to.
    Twenty minutes later, I accomplished my first goal. I found a cup of coffee. Literally. It sat at the head of a very long table, in what I assumed from the boar’s head on the wall was the dining room. I lifted the cup and sniffed the fresh aroma of scalding water infused with roasted beans. My mouth started to water at its rich caffeinated goodness. Heat warmed my chilled fingers. I brought the cup to my lips.
    â€œDon’t touch that!” The queen knocked the cup from my hands with the back of hers. It flew into the air and landed on the green plush carpet, unbroken. Unlike my ears, which rang from the queen’s squeals of rage. She raced to the fallen cup and bent down to inspect the damage. “Look what you’ve done.”
    I glanced down, surprised to see a hole burned in the carpet where the coffee soaked into its fibers. Peering closer, I noticed a thin trail of smoke wafting from the shag. “Sorry,” I said. “I’ll get you another cup.”
    â€œThat wasn’t for me. It was for the king.” She shook her head at the stain. Her sigh was loud enough to rattle the china in the teak cabinet next to us.
    â€œI ...”
    â€œJust go away,” she said, waving a regal hand my way.
    Looking down at the still-smoldering carpet and then back at the queen, I was only too happy to oblige. As I quickly walked toward the kitchen, I prayed the old adage that all women eventually turn into their mothers was a twisted joke. If not, when I did finally lock Asia in a tower I’d damn well better learn to make my own coffee.
    Or develop a tolerance to poison.
    Unfortunately the latter seemed far more likely.
    I opened the kitchen door and ran into a large woman holding a meat cleaver. Her white hair was tied back in a bun and blood drenched her apron. I, of course, assumed she was the cook. I was wrong. Very, very wrong, I soon learned when she screeched, “Make your own damn breakfast!” and tried to stab me with the cleaver.
    So much for my powers of deduction.
    After proper introductions, I bowed deeply to Asia’s elderly aunt, Lizzie. “My apologies, my lady,” I said. “Have you seen your niece?”
    â€œWhich one are you sniffing after?” She looked me over with her filmy grey eyes. “Unibrow or the fat one?”
    â€œThe fat one,” a voice said from behind me.
    I spun around, nearly colliding with the not-so-ugly object under discussion. Asia reached out to steady me. I enjoyed her touch more than a not-so-villainous villain should. Her fingers were warm and she smelled faintly of pumpkin spice.
    â€œGood morning,” I said, my eyes drinking in the sight of her. Damn, she was beautiful. Her red hair fell around her shoulders, covering the