One Mark: Steamy Friends to Lovers Paranormal Romance (Blackwell Djinn)

by Nikki Kardnov

  Things like an old demon collar, a runed blade belonging to Thorin’s grandmother Adelaide, a cursed rabbit’s foot, and several vials of supernatural specimens that had multiple uses and multiple dangers.

  As Thorin ducked into the open doorway and into the dim, golden light of an old electrical fixture, he suspected he knew what they were doing down here. And he already didn’t like it.

  Poe was at the far wall rummaging through several wooden boxes. He was muttering to himself as he searched. “I don’t know why you insist on labeling these in ancient Sumerian,” he said. “I don’t speak ancient Sumerian.”

  “Well I do,” Red said. “Check the third shelf.” Red stood in the center of the room, arms crossed over his chest. He looked irritated and angry, all the sharp lines of his face made sharper still. For the briefest of moments, Thorin wondered why Red wasn’t doing the searching if he was the one who had catalogued and labeled everything. And then he realized it was because Red was now human and therefore at an extreme disadvantage when in contact with magical artifacts.

  “What are you looking for?” Thorin asked when he came up alongside Mad hoping that he was wrong about their purpose for being down here.

  Mad dodged the question and asked, “How are you?”

  “Well I’ve certainly been better.”

  It felt like it’d been days since Thorin had seen his eldest brother. Where had Mad been again? Thorin couldn’t remember. He’d been too wrapped up in his own world.

  Too wrapped up in Lola.

  He needed to get his life straightened out again.

  He needed to get back to his routine.

  But he needed to help Lola first and dispel this new quarrel with the Northman djinn.

  “What is it you’re searching for?” he tried again.

  Red barely acknowledged Thorin as he said, “You’re putting it back on.”

  A growl rumbled in the back of Thorin’s throat. “Like hell I am.”

  Dae popped up behind Thorin. He scanned the room and then, “Is he putting it back on?”

  “I’m not putting it back on.”

  “He’s putting it back on,” Red said.

  “Found it.” Poe held up the black metal disc. It was the size of a hockey puck, but thinner and domed. The carved runes on top, inlaid in gold, caught the light from the naked bulb overhead and shone brightly.

  Though it had been over three hundred years since the damn thing had seen the light of day, it still smelled strongly of the witch magic that had bore it.

  Like rainforest ground cover. Like earth and bones.

  Thorin’s stomach churned.

  He swallowed hard.

  He was not putting that fucking thing back on.

  The rage bristled along his spine. His vision tunneled and he gritted his teeth, summoning a breath he hoped settled the rising tide of adrenaline in his blood.

  Before he’d reached maturity and the rage came alive inside of him, his brothers had been stronger than him, faster. It wasn’t unusual for them to flex their might, to give him a beating every now and then just to prove they could. They were the older brothers, he the baby, always the weaker of the family.

  And then, one night in Thorin’s fiftieth year, Poe had pushed him off the balcony of their castle in the Black Forest and burst out laughing as he did. The anger, the embarrassment soared through Thorin’s entire body, rousing the monster within. As he stormed back up to the house and then up the stairs, his vision pulsed red and his hands clenched into fists. When he got back into the dining hall, he pummeled Poe until he was knocked unconscious. A feat entirely on its own. Poe didn’t wake for seven hours. Red nearly murdered Thorin right then and there.

  That was the first time they realized there was something different about Thorin. Something broken. Other.

  After that, things had changed between him and his brothers. Red too. They still joked around with him, but they kept their distance and never, ever laid a hand on him.

  Now his brothers had gone still around him as if they were anticipating what it might take to get the disc back on him.

  He swallowed again.

  “Last night was an anomaly,” he said. “Adonis was asking for it, was he not?” He looked at Dae. “Let it serve as a message to the Northman djinn that you do not mess with Blackwells.”

  He would run.

  He didn’t want to fight them.

  And then Poe said, quietly, his voice raw, “It’s not the Northman djinn we’re worried about, brother.”

  “Then who—” Thorin started to ask, but cut himself off.

  The girls.

  Oddie.

  Red.

  Even though Ashley and Willa were caeli-bound and therefore much stronger than any mortal, Thorin had already proved that when it came to him, the usual rules didn’t apply.

  If he could knock Poe unconscious and nearly tear a limb from Adonis’s body, then a djinn caeli wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

  And Lola—

  He could kill her.

  Lola with her extremely mortal body, her breakable bones.

  He needed to protect her. From the Northman djinn and himself.

  And sending her away would only endanger her more.

  And sure, he could leave, task his brothers with looking out for her, but the thought made his anger simmer even more. He would not abandon her.

  He had no choice.

  “Fucking hell,” he said and turned away, running his hands through his hair.

  It was like an abscessed tooth he knew needed to be pulled, that he knew would hurt like hell. Dread was a very real thing to him. Practically its own entity.

  Thorin was always dreading something.

  And he dreaded this most of all.

  This weapon they’d had crafted specifically to control him. The one thing they had to use against him after the incident.

  Three hundred seventy-five years ago, he’d lost control in a village in Northumberland, England. Three hundred seventy-five years ago, to defend Rose’s honor, he’d snapped.

  When he allowed himself to dig up the memories, the screams automatically came back to him. The smell of blood on the air and the rage boiling inside of him.

  He’d been blinded by it and oddly calm within it.

  When he gave over to it, he felt whole, complete, right.

  And that was what scared him the most.

  It was his brothers who had had to clean up after him all those years ago.

  Afterward, Red forbade Thorin from ever seeing Rose again. And his last task to really bury the problem once and for all, had been the witch disc.

  Thorin was still unsure who had created it or how Red had found the witch or what he’d bartered for it.

  But the weapon was an effective one.

  Once it was on him, he couldn’t remove it. Only his brothers or Red could.

  And when the rage bloomed inside of him, the witch disc flooded his system with a pain so intense, he’d rather die than explode.

  It effectively neutered his monster, made it cower in the dark.

  He had no choice.

  And perhaps it was a form of punishment he was well overdue for.

  He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and shucked it off. He turned back to his brothers, to that damnable disc clutched in Poe’s hands.

  “Dae and I will hold him,” Mad said. “Poe will put it on.”

  Thorin clamped his teeth together.

  Red stepped back out of harm’s way, but he didn’t look happy about it.

  While Thorin was fighting against being too volatile, was Red fighting against being too vulnerable?

  Maybe they were finally starting to understand one another.

  Dae took Thorin’s right arm, Mad his left. They stepped back to the stone wall and pressed him against it, rooting their feet to the ground as if about to face a gale-force wind.

  The rough stone bit into his skin.

  Sweat beaded at his temple despite the coolness
of the basement.

  “Ready?” Poe said.

  “What if I said I wasn’t?” Thorin asked, his breathing quicker already and his body tense.

  “Well…nothing,” Poe said. “This will hurt me more than you.”

  “Doubt it.”

  Though Poe would suffer a bit. The only way to activate the disc was through Blackwell blood. Once it came into contact with Thorin, spikes would protrude from the disc on both sides, impaling him and Poe. Except, they wouldn’t retract on Thorin’s side. They’d be embedded until the disc was removed.

  “Brace yourself,” Poe said and then slammed the disc into Thorin’s sternum.

  The runes lit up as the spikes shot out.

  Poe winced, but Thorin roared. Spindly arms burst from the disc like sunrays and one by one, wrapped themselves around Thorin’s body to burrow beneath his skin like a tattoo.

  Dae and Mad tightened their hold as he thrashed against them.

  Run.

  He wanted to crawl out of his own skin.

  Escape.

  He wanted to free himself of the pain. The burning, sharp, bone-deep ache of it.

  Fuck them.

  Free himself of the burden of his own rage.

  They would not control him. He was better than they were. More powerful.

  But when the rage came rushing to the surface, always his unwavering ally, the disc brightened, the tattoo-like arms glowed beneath his skin and flooded his system with a sharp, lancing pain.

  Burrs. It was like burrs burrowing through his veins.

  Make it stop.

  MAKE IT STOP.

  His thoughts jumbled together in his mind. What did he need to do to make it stop?

  Think.

  Breathe.

  I am the rock. The anger is the water.

  No that wasn’t right.

  I am the water. The anger the rock.

  The pain rippled through him. He squeezed his eyes shut. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands.

  Count to five.

  One.

  His body spasmed and he sunk to his knees.

  Two.

  His brothers let him go.

  Focus on your breath.

  Three.

  Don’t let this control you.

  Four.

  You deserve this pain and so much more.

  Five.

  He pulled in a breath, hands now on the stone floor.

  The stone was cool.

  His skin was flush.

  Breathe.

  Slowly, he went to his back and lay on the floor as his skull throbbed behind his eyes.

  “Light,” he muttered. “The light.”

  Poe reached up and yanked on the chain, plunging them all into darkness.

  There was only the sound of their breathing. His brothers’ heartbeats. The gurgle of Red’s stomach.

  Focus on the normal things.

  Heart beating.

  Lungs breathing.

  Sweat beading.

  Oddie above filling the dishwasher. Normal. Simple.

  Ashley and Willa in the library discussing what to have for dinner. Chicken? Pork?

  And then—

  “I know djinn don’t need to eat much, but Thorin seems to really love this southwestern chicken I make that is so damn delicious.”

  Lola.

  His Lola.

  Looking out for him through something as simple as a dinner meal.

  He could do this.

  For her.

  He had to.

  He would bear the pain and keep her safe. Because if anyone deserved it, it was her. And maybe through her, he could repay some of his sins, tip the balance just a little.

  For the rest of his life, he would always be trying to be better.

  Chapter 20

  LOLA

  After dinner plans were made, Ashley and Willa decided they’d set the table with the finer china and pick flowers from the garden to make centerpieces.

  Oddie protested, of course. “That’s my job. Not yours.”

  And Ashley replied, “Everyone needs a break from their job.”

  “Not the sacra familia. We don’t get breaks.”

  Willa teasingly gave Oddie’s ponytail a tug. “You take this job of yours way too seriously.”

  “That’s because it is serious.”

  “Let them set the table,” Lola said. “While they’re doing that, maybe you could help me find what I need for a bath? I heard there are bath salts somewhere?”

  Oddie clucked her tongue. “All right, fine. I suppose I could relinquish some duties temporarily.”

  Ashley winked at Lola.

  In all her life, Lola had never had a big group of female friends. Like her tastes, Lola’s friends were singular and eclectic. There was her hippie friend, Emily, who only wore clothing made from organic cotton and hemp, who always smelled like patchouli and lemongrass and was an unwavering liberal. There was her friend Betsy, who, if Lola was being honest, was more of a supplier of free accounting advice than she was a close friend. And Ashley, who…well, Ashley had always been the friend that felt like home. Their friendship had always been uncomplicated.

  But now, looking at the three girls in the kitchen, Lola thought maybe they could all be friends. They shared something unique—the Blackwell men.

  Just thinking it made Lola’s stomach flip-flop.

  It wasn’t like Thorin was hers. Not like Dae was Ashley’s, or Poe Willa’s. And Oddie had claim to them in a way none of them did.

  But for once, Lola felt like she was with a group of women who wouldn’t judge her. Who would never put her down. And she felt that way about the Blackwells too. Though Red…eh, he might judge her. He was the type of man who thought he was better than everyone else. But in his case, it might just be true and she was totally okay with allowing him that arrogance.

  What must it be like to live for hundreds and hundreds of years? Probably Lola would become an elitist too. Hell, she was already over millennials and she was one.

  Ashley and Willa disappeared into the formal dining room and Oddie took Lola upstairs to a closet tucked down one of the many hallways.

  “My rooms are down here,” Oddie said. “Last door on the left if you ever need help.”

  “Thanks. I need all the help I can get.”

  Oddie smiled at her. “I can’t imagine what it’s like being thrown into this world all of a sudden. I knew of djinn and the Blackwells as soon as I was old enough to talk. I can remember visiting their house in England when I was about seven years old. It’s a Christmas tradition. The Blackwells always host their sacra familias for the holidays. Anyway, I might have been raised in an isolated family—Beaumonts like to keep to themselves—but I was aware enough of the outside world to know that the Blackwells, their lives, their houses, were very much a dark fairytale.

  “I never once thought I’d end up being a house manager though.”

  She dug inside the closet and produced a bottle of bath milk and a jar of salts. “I have these imported from Paris. They are exquisite.”

  “You’re awesome.” Lola took the offerings. “Taking a hot bath might give me a bit of normalcy, even if for a little bit. I have to admit, I am feeling a little overwhelmed.”

  Lola spun open the top on the salts and breathed in. “Oh, lavender?” The labels were in French and she was shit at foreign languages.

  “And oatmeal and honey.” Oddie shut the closet door. Lola replaced the jar’s lid.

  “So…” Lola lowered her voice, just in case anyone was lurking nearby. “Do you have any advice for a newbie? Like are there any djinn faux pas? Or did I already commit one?”

  Oddie laughed. She had a demure laugh, like she was trying to be proper about her humor. “Well…” She raked her teeth over her bottom lip and looked away. “I’m never in the position to be spreading gossip about those I serve. I respect these men very much.”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean—”

  “But Tho
rin is not like the others.” She met Lola’s eyes. A glimmer of concern appeared in her eyes. “Thorin is the most loving, the most caring, the most sympathetic out of all of them, but sometimes…”

  Oddie’s gaze cut away over Lola’s shoulder.

  A deep, guttural clearing of the throat.

  Lola swiveled around to find Mad Blackwell at the end of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, biceps bulging from beneath the tight sleeves of his t-shirt. Like Dae, Mad was rimmed in a misty red cloud, but unlike Dae, Mad’s cloud was spotted with flecks of brown.

  Mad scowled at them.

  Lola looked back at Oddie to see a matching thread of irritation on her face.

  Whoa.

  Had she just stepped into the middle of something?

  What the heck?

  “Oddie, may I speak with you privately?” Mad said in a voice that was overtly polite, but undercut with something more quarrelsome.

  “I’m afraid I’m quite busy,” Oddie said.

  “You don’t look busy,” he argued.

  The air was practically trembling with their hostility.

  Lola took a step back. “I should probably—”

  “Yes, you should,” Mad said.

  “I’ll catch up with you later?” Lola raised a questioning brow at Oddie, but the younger girl barely noticed. Her eyes were firmly on Mad. And they were smoldering.

  Good God. There was a story there. But one Lola was clearly not privy to. At least not yet.

  Maybe someday if they did become friends.

  Lola would like that very much.

  For now, she would give Oddie the space she clearly needed to deal with whatever tension was going on between her and Mad Blackwell. She didn’t envy Oddie for it. Thorin and Mad might have been similar in size and stature, tall and dominating, but Mad didn’t have any of the warmth that Thorin did. Lola wouldn’t want to be on the other end of his anger.

  Had Lola gotten Oddie into trouble by asking about the Blackwells?

  Maybe that was faux pas number two.

  God, would she ever be able to successfully navigate the supernatural world without making a complete fool of herself?

  She sure hoped so.

  “Thanks for the bath salts,” she said and stepped around Mad.