Our relationship may have been forced, our love may even have started forged, but I want us to be comfortable, steady. A force that is not ruled by fate or desire, but nurtured by devotion and acceptance.
And what did I do to deserve someone like you?
Whatever I did to deserve you.
A scream blares from the house.
Nathan and I jump to our feet and sprint for the back door. We race through the kitchen to the hall, searching. Around the corner to the living room, we find it empty, as well as the great room.
Pounds and the ruckus from something falling upstairs shake the walls.
We charge for the stairs as Glen’s crying, “Stop!”
My heart’s pounding as my panic burns my hands. I prepare myself for the fight, heating my hands and balling my fists. Halting in the doorway of Glen and Scott’s room, I swallow hard.
seriously funny
A man built like a monster troll stands over my friend’s cowering body. Olar and Scott struggle against an invisible hold that has them pinned against the walls, one I assume has something to do with the oversized man’s arms being splayed out at his sides, aimed in their directions.
Nathan nudges me behind him. Don’t—
I know, I cut him off. Don’t speak. It annoys me when he does this.
Glossy eyed and awed, the stranger takes in Glen as though she were a delicious slice of ham instead of a trembling human begging him “don’t.” He leans over her, tongue extended.
Her terrified shriek pierces the air like a banshee’s wail. Scott must’ve forgotten to mention the ‘be quiet around enemies’ aspect of our relationships. I still don’t get the full gist of it, but I know it makes another’s mate more desirable.
Nathan strikes forward, tackling the intruder to the floor before his saliva-drenched tongue can touch Glen. Nathan’s half his size, tumbling with him against the wall. Olar and Scott drop to the floor.
Freed from the beast, Glen jumps from the bed and runs over to me. Scared out of her mind, she drags her arms and hands over her face and neck, drying where the man has already had the chance to slide his tongue over her skin.
I strip off my jacket and use it to wipe her off. It’s not just her face and neck, but everywhere; her clothes are even drenched. Maybe it’s his sweat instead. Hopefully it’s his sweat.
Her lips part to speak, and I shake my head, placing a finger to my lips. Mouthing, ‘don’t talk,’ I push her chin up to seal her lips. She nods, taking my jacket and wipes her arms.
Nathan soars through the air, smashing onto the floor a couple of feet from us. As he stands, he lifts his hand, palm facing me.
I stay back, calming myself. I hate seeing him battle. I have no doubt that he’ll win every fight, but when he lets people hit him, or he’s shoved hard enough they knock him off his feet, it gets me going.
Thrown to the ceiling, it cracks from the impact of Olar smashing against it and causes pieces of crumbling plaster to fall to the floor with him. He stumbles to his feet, pain reflecting in tightened jaw and pinched lips.
“You feeble children cannot take me. I am Top!” the gorilla man roars. “I have come for one, but will leave with two! Die trying to stop me!”
A low growl, one I’ve grown familiar with, grabs my attention. Scott’s a shade darker than pink, and as he takes on his beast, his Burdened complexion darkens by the second. Nathan shakes his head, deterring him from turning into the animal-like beast that morphs his face and scares the crap out of everyone. Scott ignores him, shifting. The bones in his neck and face crack as his skin stretches over his deformed figure that’s now a mixture between a panther and gorilla. His snout allows a visual of dangerously sharp teeth, canines a threatening point ready to pierce the skin of Top. Crouching, Scott snarls.
Glen gasps, snatching up my arm. Top’s head whips around, Scott gone forgotten. Lured by the sound of a single gasp, Top jumps to his feet and trudges toward us, thundering steps shaking the floor.
Scott pounces, fast as a cheetah, knocking Top to the bed. It splits, and they hit the floor. Olar joins their tussle and Nathan jumps in front of us. He pulls our heads to his chest, blocking our sight. We push him to move, but he doesn’t, not a single step—holding us tight enough to restrict us from breaking free.
The sound of ripping flesh and gushing blood from someone are loud in my ears. I throw my hands over them and swallow hard. I may as well be seeing it!
Grunts, growling, and snarls drown out the revolting sounds of their brawl. Top screams out with a closed mouth, maybe clenching his teeth. His sound is distinct, deep and gravely. Something lands behind Nathan. We’re released when Nathan turns around to see what’s nearly hit him.
Glen screams, staring at the severed, Titan-sized, decapitated arm.
In the next second, Scott’s thrown into the wall and Nathan’s blasting forward, meeting Top halfway to us. With a wrestling move—one armed and a bloody mess—Top’s lifted off his feet and smashed to the floor. By the way his arm was removed from his body; it leaves the shoulder bone exposed with severed veins hanging from the opened wound. Fighting with Nathan, he holds his ground even with his right eye hanging from his eye socket, swaying and slapping his cheekbone as he shuffles around.
My stomach heaves and requests I throw up everything I ate today. But I hold back the need to just stand here and barf at my feet, watching Top look like something that has exited the set of a zombie apocalypse movie.
Nathan gets Top by the arm, pinning it behind his head. With the abilities between the three of them, fighting Top shouldn’t be this great of a challenge. Nathan, alone, could simply turn Top into a useless pile of ash and be done with this. But, he never does that, he fights and will fight to the finish if needed. I’ve not figured out the method to his madness, but Nathan’s anomalous way of thinking gets me every time.
Top drops to his knees. Knocked unconscious, he falls to his stomach with a heavy thud and slight jiggle to his blubbery body.
Glen and I sigh heavily with relief. I throw my arm around her shoulder and hug her.
Nathan, Scott, and Olar bend over to pick up the comatose Top. Olar turns up his lip, disgustedly staring at the right side of the man. “Why’d you have to remove his arm like that? That is some sick shit. You could’ve just ripped off his head instead. It would’ve saved us a hell of a lot of time.”
“Shut up,” Scott retorts, wiping his chin on his shoulder. Top’s leftover residue smears on his gray hoodie. What’s nastiest about that is, before he leaves, he’s going to kiss Glen.
The three of them strain to pick Top up as they lift his body from the floor; each of them taking a side of the monstrous-sized body. Olar’s on his left, Scott’s on the right having the hardest time gripping the bloodiest side, and Nathan’s at his feet with his arms wrapped around either leg. Glen and I move from their exit, and they maneuver him out of the door like a couch.
Glen trembles. Fear and another feeling I can’t place puts a worry in her eyes. When Top’s out of the house, I ask, “Are you okay?”
She shakes her head, eyes wide and nervous.
“It’s okay. They’ll take care of it.” I look the room over. “Looks like you two need another new room.”
Knitting her brows, she gives me a confused look. “Another?”
Uh. I bite my tongue, forgetting that’s still one thing Glen doesn’t know. “Never mind. Where are your clothes? You can take a shower and change in Nathan’s room. Scott might be a minute.” I face her, awaiting her reply.
She stares at the amputated arm staining the cream-colored carpet with its continuous crimson leakage. I swallow, feeling the excess saliva flood my mouth in warning that if I don’t do something about this or if I keep looking at it, I’ll regurgitate. Pulling my leg back, I flick it at the arm, kicking it across the room. It rolls lumpy-like across the floor, leaving a bloody trail in its wake. It bumps against the wall, settling on the elbow with the hand in a cuffed position, palm up.
>
Glen shivers, wrapping her arms around herself. “The drawer by the window at the top.”
I bite back my giggle. Top.
My hand heats in warning as I start toward the dresser, tiptoeing my way across the blood-smeared floor. Fear creeps over my flesh.
I scan the room.
We’re alone.
Cracks vine the walls from the battle; the bed’s a split pile of sheets and pulled cushions where nothing can hide beneath; the closet door is smashed in, and clothes are scattered about. No one is in here but us. The windows are closed. I narrow my eyes, unable to avert my gaze from the glass; even knowing everything is okay. It reflects the destroyed room and Glen’s and my reflections. But it’s pitch black outside, no moon, no lights. A little shaken up, I consider ignoring the unsettling feeling that’s telling me something’s out of place. Glen could always wear something of mine, and I’ll leave it to the boys to check it out later.
“What’s wrong, Tracey?” Glen nervously asks. Her shaking hands grab the crux of my arm. Looking at her hand before lifting my gaze to hers, I’m frozen by her sudden change in expression. Stricken with terror, Glen’s entire face lifts. Her pretty freckled skin goes pale, and her brows space so far apart as they rise, if they stretch any further, her skin will split. My stomach drops as I whirl around, seeking what’s caused her terror.
The window shatters, spraying glass everywhere. A tall, shirtless man a darker shade of the reddish complexion Burdeneds turn drops into the room. Night blue eyes, outlined in a stinging yellow, take us in, in the most studious way. Whatever he’s thinking or studying, it’s obvious he isn’t sure of something.
An ear-splitting scream bleeds through the air, ringing in my ears. Glen, yelling at the top of her lungs.
The intruder’s eyes gloss over, and his thick nostrils flare as he sucks in a deep breath of our air. His lids, dressed with long dark lashes, fall over his creepy eyes.
I step backward to Glen, silently begging her with a touch to stop screaming. Nathan, you need to get here. Right now, I call him.
The man lifts his thumb to his mouth and swipes it over his lips. Without a second thought, he saunters from the window with calculated steps, training our gazes to capture him as he makes his way in our direction. Tall and scary as hell, he’s everything a model agency would look for in a man had he not just barged his way into our home. French braids restrain the hair on his head, and their ends drape his shoulders, hanging over his swollen chest. Smiling at either Glen or me, his pearly, white sharpened teeth are almost blinding in the dim light of the room. Even the dermal piercings stuck in his high cheekbones glisten.
“Hello, Glen,” he serenades, slowly continuing toward us.
“How do you know my name?” she asks, even after I warned her not to speak.
I shoot her a look that begs her to shut up, but I go ignored.
The stranger smiles. “I came for you, feisty.” He points to me. “But I need you.” He shifts his pointed finger to Glen.
My hand flares, and if he takes another step, he will get blasted back through that window.
He continues forward, and I send him one of the biggest blasts my body possesses. Soaring over the shredded cushions and smashed lights, he smacks into the wall, sending another crack slithering up to the ceiling. He lands on one knee and his hands and never tears his gaze from Glen.
He rises with ease. Cracking his neck, he fixes me with the most bloodcurdling gaze, snarling like a dog, threateningly baring his teeth. We lock eyes, and his intimidating glower scares me stagnant.
I try to move, but my feet won’t budge. A million thoughts race through my head, the loudest one wondering why the hell Nathan is taking so long. But I’ve grown to learn Nathan; his so obvious, ‘let me see if she can really take care of herself.’ I talk a good game, and I know I can back it up, but sometimes, with guys like this who don’t stop and just keep getting back up, I get nervous.
The intruder rolls his shoulders, and the soft sound of his back cracking is loud in my ears. Never taking his eyes off me, a promise glimmers in them. A promise that he’s going to pay me back for what I did.
Charging across the room, he comes for us, and I’m ready for his attack. Three feet from me, he abruptly stops, almost as if he’s frozen in place.
Nathan comes up behind me.
Mr. Cheekbone Studs looks over my head, his face a mask of complete shock. Shifting, he adjusts to his human form, not nearly as intimidating as his Burdened frame. Radiant, deep chocolate skin is pulled taut over his wrestler-like body. The threat of torture has left his soft gray eyes that now reflect a great deal of confusion as he looks us over. “Nate?” he mutters, wide eyes quickly sobering. “Man, I had no idea. I swear.”
Nathan steps around me, and to keep the intruder in view, I step to the side as Nathan walks in front of me. “This is my house,” Nathan tells him, maintaining a calm disposition.
The surprised intruder steals glances at Glen. “I wasn’t aware of that either.” He steps to the side, crossing his arms.
Nathan matches him, shaking his head. “Hmm, I kinda don’t believe you, Jaworski.”
Jaworski flicks his gaze to Glen and stares at her for a moment.
Nathan looks between them and says, “That’s Scott.”
Jaworski’s eyes widen, but his shock doesn’t last long. He sucks in a breath that visibly swells his chest. Releasing it, he says, “I didn’t know that either.”
“Do you care?”
“Not now.”
“Neither do I,” Nathan says with a shrug.
Jaworski nods toward me. “And I suppose the one I came here for is yours?”
Nathan gives him a short nod.
Pinching his chin, Jaworski nods, understanding. “I’m not going down easy, Nate,” he says, stretching out his neck.
“I never asked you to.”
Their calmness irritates me. They know they hate each other; we know Nathan isn’t going to let him just walk away, and Jaworski already said he’s ready for the fight. But they talk like they’re pals. Frequently, Jaworski’s eyes flicker over at Glen, and she moves closer and closer to me. Any closer, she’ll be inside of me.
Prying his stone-gray eyes away from Glen, Jaworski asks, “What are you waiting for?”
“Did you touch her?” Nathan points his elbow toward me.
Jaworski tips his chin. “No. I only came for her.”
“But you want her?” Nathan points to Glen, and she shies away.
The corner of Jaworski’s mouth twitches, resisting his smile. “I do,” he drawls, interest making the words sing.
“Then this isn’t for me to handle. Don’t get me wrong. I’m pissed you came for what’s mine. But you want Scott’s for yourself.” He shrugs. “So, we’re waiting on him.”
“I’ve explained I didn’t know she was Scott’s,” Jaworski defends.
“You can’t smell him on her?”
“I can,” he answers honestly. “But I didn’t come here to want her. It’s something about her.” He looks her over again and then steps forward.
“You’re pushing it,” Nathan warns, causing Jaworski to retract his step. He lightens the mood with a query. “While we wait, why don’t you tell me who sent you here?”
“I can’t do that. But I’ll tell you, the person who sent me is expecting me to come back with her. Knowing she’s yours, however, I have no intentions to do so.”
“What are your intentions?” Scott asks, kissing Glen’s cheek on his passing us to Jaworski and Nathan.
“Scott, I—”
“No small talk,” Scott cuts him off.
Jaworski rubs his chin with his palm, revealing his aggravation. I also hate this ‘take your time’ tactic. Just do what you’re going to do and move on to the next one.
Patience, Sparks. It mostly happens like this when we don’t know what we’re dealing with or what we’ll do, Nathan relays without taking his eyes off the intruder. He stands with his back
to me, shoulders straight as a line; his shirt stretched across them. This dark gray shirt compliments him well, with its short sleeves exposing taut forearms protruding with muscle. My gaze dances up his neck, taking notice of his hair just long enough to bury my fingers in. I want to touch it. His neck is tight and hard, ready for me to kiss it, calling me to cross this floor and place my lips on its tanned skin. I’ve never kissed back there before. Still, so many parts of his body I haven’t explored. My gosh, I need him in the worst, well, the best possible way.
Mental note—explore Nathan’s body.
Nathan cranes his neck, glance passing his shoulder as it lands on me with wide eyes and knit brows.
Embarrassed, I stifle my giggle, matching his flirtatious smirk.
He turns back, shaking his head. You are bad, Sparky.
Sorry, I’m focusing now.
I missed whatever Scott and Jaworski decided on. They’re going to the let out, which, with Top in there, seems like it’s getting crowded.
Scott grabs Glen’s clothes and the entire time, Jaworski stares at her without care or concern for his actions. He’s heard Glen’s voice and his demeanor has changed. It’s clear he wants to sneak away and maybe escape through the window from which he arrived, but he ignores this desire. Maybe willing to risk it all to have a chance at Glen.
“Can I talk to her?” he asks.
What great balls you have, Jaworski. Like that’ll ever happen.
Scott moves Glen into the hall where she can’t be gaze-raped by Mr. Cheekbone Studs.
I stand in the doorway, watching Nathan, but this time attentive to my surroundings.
“Glen,” Scott comforts. “I’m sorry you had to see that stuff today, but you have to control yourself and stay quiet when family isn’t around, or when someone comes around who you don’t know. It’s essential to me keeping you safe. Even the slightest scream or gasp will attract them to you, distracting them from whatever other plan they originally had. Okay?”
“I hear you,” she replies with a shaky voice.
“I’m sorry again, but I need to go handle this.” They kiss. “Stay with Tracey. I’ll be right back to find us somewhere to sleep.”
Brazen: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 2) Page 12