Bad Storm

by Jackie Sexton

  Bad Storm

  Jackie Sexton

  All Rights Reserved ©2013 Jackie Sexton. First Printing: 2014.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Author’s Note: All characters that engage in adult situations in this story are 18 years of age and older.

  Bad Storm

  Jackie Sexton

  Table of Contents

  1 Chapter 1

  2 Chapter 2

  3 Chapter 3

  4 Chapter 4

  5 Chapter 5

  6 Chapter 6

  7 Chapter 7

  8 Chapter 8

  9 Chapter 9

  10 Chapter 10

  11 Chapter 11

  12 Epilogue

  13 Thanks for Reading!

  Chapter One

  “Bailey, we’re here.”

  A soft, warm touch prodded my shoulder, and I opened my eyes to find my face was pressed up against the van window, daylight burning through my tired eyes. It took a minute for me to adjust, and then I saw the familiar white beach house with a pink trim.

  “Trent,” I said, feeling his presence inside. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did, like the heat of him was radiating from the front corner of the house where his room was.

  Nick was sitting next to me where Sierra had been.

  “Bailey, I wanted to bring you to Trent because I know you both really want to see each other, but I have to warn you. Lola might be home, and if she is…well, I’m going to have to take you back to your apartment—”

  “She isn’t home,” Brandon interjected from the front seat. They must have switched places while I was sleeping.

  “Where’s Sierra?” I asked, undoing my seatbelt with nervous excitement.

  “We dropped her off at your apartment. We brought Martin with us since he’s already aware of things…but not Sierra.”

  “So you didn’t tell her anything?” I said, confused. How did they get her to call me? How did they get away without telling her anything?

  “He wiped her memory,” Martin said in a hushed voice. I could sense a small tremor of fear in it.

  “You what?” My eyes grew wide. “Nick, how could you?”

  He looked away from me, his lips falling into a terse, straight line. “I’m not doing my job if everyone knows about the pack.”

  “The pa—” but I was cut off by a strong pull to my heart, and I suddenly saw a flash of Trent, pale and lying in his bed, his eyes half-opened.

  “Whatever, we’ll talk about this later,” I said, moving to get out of the van. Nick didn’t say anything, he just lifted his body off the backseat and followed Martin out of van onto the pale, aggregate driveway.

  I took in a deep breath of the humid, salty beach air and followed them inside.

  The house was darker and quieter than usual. All the blinds were drawn, and the familiar drone of the television was missing. I had this strange, pulling sensation inside me that made me aware of two presences in the house—one hotter and the other sweeter, softer.

  But I didn’t have time to wonder about it. I rushed over to Trent’s room and pushed the door open, my heart stopping in my chest as I caught sight of his pale face, exactly as I had seen him in my mind’s eye. There was a huge gash across the side of his face, dark red and in the process of clotting. There were bruises and slashes all along his arms. He gave me a slight smile.

  “Hey,” he said. “I would’ve opened the door but, well. I’m feeling a little under the weather.”

  I ran over to him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, fighting the tears as I pressed my face against the side of his head. I felt his hand reach up around my shoulder, patting me gingerly.

  “Hey,” he said, “it’s okay, I’m okay.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” a gruff, southern voice said behind us. I turned to see Trent’s landlord, Dr. McAlister, with an orange pill bottle and a cup of water. “But I just picked up Trent’s prescription. Ms. Bailey,” he said politely, nodding in my direction.

  “Hi Dr. McAlister,” I replied, unable to pull myself away from Trent.

  “Just Mac would be fine,” he said, and I realized that the hot presence I had felt before was radiating off of his body. He placed the pill bottle and cup on the nightstand before turning to leave.

  “We’ll be in the living room,” Brandon said, giving Nick a look.

  “Good to see you’re okay,” Nick said before closing the door and leaving us alone.

  “Please don’t be mad,” Trent murmured softly. I couldn’t help but laugh. I was so filled with hurt and confusion and fear, and that was the best he could do. But it worked—I wasn’t mad.

  “I should be, but I’m not. Honestly, I was just really worried.” He moved over on the bed, and I sat down beside him. It was seamless, the way we spoke with just our bodies. It always had been. But I couldn’t ignore the strange magnetism between us— it was stronger than the bond we had before.

  “I was too,” he said, frowning. I could see a peak of anger on his face. “I swear if I ever get my hands on that fucking Aamir guy—”

  “Hey,” I said, taking his hand into mine and squeezing it. The heat that pulsed between us caused me to gasp.

  “What the hell is that?” I said, looking down to our hands for an explanation. But they just looked like our hands, my small fingers curled over his larger ones.

  “I’m sure someone has told you by now,” he said, a slight blush coming to his pallid cheeks as he looked away.

  “Trent…what’s going on…everyone keeps saying you imprinted me, and then I saw that image, and Brandon can speak to me in my mind…”

  “Yeah…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. But that’s why I was trying my hardest not to talk to you after we hooked up,” he said, his gray eyes finally boring into mine. I shivered under their gaze, but didn’t look away. They were filled with the truth—something I needed to know no matter how hard of a pill it was to swallow.

  “I was fighting it. But it took me over. That’s why I had to leave that night, to transform. The urge to imprint was so strong and…I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “What does that mean, exactly?” I said, my mouth going dry. I had a vague idea of what he meant, but it didn’t quite click with me. He wasn’t a baby bird looking for his mother for the first time.

  “It means…dammit Bailey, it means exactly what it feels like. It means that even when we’re hundreds of miles apart, I can see you get the energy sucked out from your body, and you know that I’ve been in a nasty brawl. It means that you can sense me, and everyone in my pack. It means that sometimes, we can even communicate with our thoughts…it means that…for the rest of our lives.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to understand what he was saying to me. I took slow, steadying breaths.

  ‘Like I said, I’m sorry.’

  My eyes snapped open. “You didn’t say that aloud, did you?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have entered your thoughts without your permission, it’s a pretty important rule. But, you’re part of the pack now. This is what we can do.”

  “What pack?” I asked, my hands slightly shaking.

  “Brandon, Mac, Allison…” he said, referring to Lola’s sister and his fourth roommate. “And Lola.”

  “Wait, what?” I could feel my head spinning. “Lola’s a werewolf also? And Dr. McAlister, I mean Mac, and Allison…?”

  He nodded, his expression grim. “And you’ll be able to sense them, and communicate with them. Not in the same way, bu
t still…you’re bound to them, even if you don’t want to be.”

  “How does this happen?” I said. “What about Lola, didn’t you imprint her?”

  He shook his head and was quiet for a minute. I had struck a nerve. “I wasn’t ready to imprint…like I said, it was an accident.”

  “But why?” I asked, squeezing his hand and feeling desperate. “How does something like this happen, Trent? You can’t just tell me it was an accident. There was still a reason.”

  “Because I love you, okay? Is that what you wanted me to say?” he snapped. Then he shook his head and cast down his fierce eyes in shame. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I didn’t want this to happen. And as soon as we hooked up…dammit Bailey, we shouldn’t have done that.”

  I felt my heart sink at his words. I pulled my hand away. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” I said quietly, getting up to my feet and turning to leave.

  I felt his hand grip my wrist. I turned to look at him, and he pulled my wrist with a fierce determination in his eyes, causing me to fall over onto him, my face only inches away from his. He closed the gap between us, kissing me passionately, his free hand moving to my neck to hold me in place.

  There, against his perfect lips, I felt it—every bit of love, possession, fear, everything he had ever felt for me. It was hard and round, with a soft candy center. It burst through his touch and inside of me, consuming me and taking me as its prisoner. There, in his arms, I melted. The tears burst forth, unable to be contained any longer.

  “Well isn’t this cute,” a vicious voice hissed behind us. I pulled away quickly, and turned around to see Lola, her arms crossed over her chest as she eyed the both of us. Boy, did she look pissed.

  And that’s when I realized it. Staring into her green eyes, I felt a strong pull of familiarity.

  “You’re the one,” I said, my voice wavering with anger. “You’re the one that attacked him.”

  “Very good, tramp,” she spat.

  “Lola,” Trent warned. I could feel the tension mounting in the room, nervous and tight.

  “What? She is one. Although I guess I should be welcoming her since she’s a part of the family now.” Her voice was cruel, laced with a poisonous bite.

  “Listen Lola, I get it. What I did was really fucked up, but you didn’t have to attack Trent,” I said, balling my fists up at my side, even though I knew she could kill me in a matter of seconds.

  She took a few steps towards me, a wicked, humorless smile on her pink lips. “It takes two to tango, sweet heart.”

  “Stay away from her,” Trent growled. But she just moved closer. I had a feeling anything Trent said would make it worse.

  “How does it feel, stealing someone’s fiancé? Does it feel good?” she pressed a finger to my chest, her eyes level with mine. “Just remember, once a cheater, always a cheater. Don’t think you’re so special that he’d never do it to you,” she said before turning on her heel and slamming the door behind her.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Trent said, but I could hear the hurt in his voice. She had struck a nerve.

  I turned around to see he was looking down into his open palms, his gaze blank, as though he wasn’t seeing anything.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, the guilt bubbling in my heart as I felt something hot shame fill me.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said solemnly. “It was mine. I kissed you first, and I would say I don’t regret it but—”

  “But you do,” I finished for him, casting my eyes to my sneakers as I fought back the tears.

  “Bailey, you don’t understand. You shouldn’t be with someone like me, you deserve someone better, someone who won’t hurt you—”

  “Like Aamir?” I snapped sourly, feeling awful as soon as his name left my lips. It wasn’t fair for me to bring him up in front of him, and yet, I still couldn’t help but feel bitter about his possessive nature when he didn’t even want to have me in the most uncomplicated sense of the word.

  “That guy is no good for you.” His voice turned low and deadly. “I saw what happen to you, and I swear if I ever get my hands on him, he’ll regret the day he was born.”

  “That wasn’t even his fault,” I pointed out, folding my arms over my chest. “He didn’t do that, the nymph girl did.”

  “Bailey, there’s a lot you don’t understand about those people. They’re dangerous, that ‘nymph girl,’” he said, giving the word a nasty emphasis, “could’ve killed you.”

  “Well, she wanted to because you imprinted on me,” I pointed out.

  “Exactly. Even if Aamir likes you, the rest of his freaky cult doesn’t.”

  “What are you talking about?” I snapped. “A minute ago you love me, and now you’re insulting me. I don’t know what to believe with you.”

  “I do love you,” he said, a fierceness in his gaze. “That’s why I want to protect you. From that freak…and from me too.”

  “Well, what if I don’t want to be protected?” I said, the force between us drawing me nearer to him. It was like the angrier I got, the closer I wanted to be to him. No, not wanted. Needed.

  I needed him.

  ‘Hot damn, this is insane.’

  “Well that’s too bad,” he said, his fists balling up into the sheets. “Dammit Bailey, stop getting closer to me, I can’t resist you.”

  I sat down on the bed, and leaned my head towards his, pausing just before his lips.

  “Then don’t.”

  I pressed my lips to his and the world was gone.

  Something was off with me and Sierra knew it. But thanks to whatever strange magic Nick had performed on her, she didn’t know quite why. She didn’t remember me running off with Aamir, just the tour ending. Just enough for me being back home with her to make sense.

  So it was impossible for me to explain to her why things between Trent and I were so irrevocably weird.

  “Just go over there and say hi,” she said. “Talk to him enough, and I’m sure he’ll dump Lola,” she said as she searched the fridge for something to eat. I took a sip of my coffee and stared at my bright yellow scrambled eggs, still trying to will myself to eat them.

  “Um…yeah. That would be less complicated if they didn’t live together,” I said.

  She came over to the table with a Red Bull and a piece of buttered toast. “Ew,” I laughed, “you’re so weird.”

  “I have to do groceries, so sue me,” she grinned, popping open the tab of her energy drink. It made a strange hissing noise, and a sweet and sour smell filled the air.

  “You can have my food, you know you don’t need to ask,” I laughed, wrinkling my nose.

  “You know I don’t care. It all comes out the other end anyway.” she winked before throwing back the Red Bull.

  “You should be a nutritionist,” I teased.

  “You should talk. You haven’t even touched your breakfast, and that’s the most important meal of the day,” she said with a playful grin.

  “Yeah well, I’ve had a hard time eating since Lola confronted us. I mean, it was totally within her right to do so too, I was the other woman,” I grimaced, remembering with a sickening jolt how things had gone in Trent’s room.

  “It’s always one way or the other with you. Either you can’t eat, or you clean out the fridge. Personally, I prefer the latter because then we get to go out and buy tons of ‘replacement’ ice cream.”

  “Sierra, c’mon, I’m seriously depressed,” I said, unable to fight the small smile. She was probably the funniest person I knew, so it was hard for me to stay in a bad mood when she was around.

  “Okay, okay. I know you want to wallow. Let’s go see a really sad movie, like one of those romantic ones that end badly. We can bring our own tissues and sneak in pre-made popcorn in Ziploc baggies.”

  “I don’t know,” I sighed. As much fun as that would sound normally, I didn’t think I had it in me to go out that night. What if we ran into someone we knew? Then I would have to h
ave an awkward conversation where I lied about how I was doing well. That was always weird.

  “Or we could stay in and watch a movie,” Sierra offered, as if she read my mind. I kind of wished she could. I felt a small pang of guilt as I remembered how I couldn’t share the majority of what was going on with her.

  “Okay,” I said, and she reached across the table, her palm facing upwards. I put my hand into hers, and she squeezed it before getting up from the table, her toast in one hand and the empty can in the other.

  “It’ll be awesome. I’m going to my mom’s house for a bit, but I’ll see you tonight?”

  “Yeah.” I lifted the fork to my mouth and forcing myself to take a bite. She gobbled down her own food like a total slob and tossed her can to the recycling bin, turning away before she could see it hitting the floor. For some reason, her absent-mindedness was suddenly endearing. The little things that might usually make me roll my eyes comforted me. Sierra was someone I could rely on, even when everything else around me was changing.

  “Catch you later, and try not to mope so hard,” Sierra teased, ruffling my hair as she passed by me on my way out.

  Even though she didn’t have the slightest idea about what was really going on with me, she had a point. Feeling shitty about my life wasn’t doing anything for me. I forced half of the scrambled eggs down my throat and finished my coffee before it got cold.

  I was running a list of all the things I could get done that day (clean the bathroom, fix up my resume, call my old boss at the coffee shop to see if they had a summer opening), when my phone went off in my room.

  The caller I.D. Said Nick, and my heart dropped. Anything he had to tell me couldn’t be good.

  “Hello?” I said wearily.

  “Bailey, it’s me, Nick.”

  “I know Nick,” I sighed. Nick was so weird about things like technology—it was like he didn’t much care for it. He could look at the caller I.D. everyday of his life and could still forget that we all have it.

  “I think we should get together and talk a few things over.”