Forever Violet (Tangled Realms Book 1)

by Jessica Sorensen

  “Yes, you are.” Jules traces circles on my hips, a move that reminds me of the dream I had about the werewolf with the glowing violet eyes. “The only creatures that reacts to silver the way you just did are werewolves. And the only werewolves who can self-heal from silver wounds are those with royal blood.”

  “Maybe I have a mild allergy,” I suggest. “Maybe that’s why the silver burned me and I didn’t die. I mean, silver isn’t something humans drink, so I’ve never actually drank it before.”

  “Your eyes are teal, too,” he says, as if that means something.

  “And your eyes are blue,” I say with a confused shrug.

  He slowly lets out a breath. “Who are your parents?”

  I squirm a bit at the question. “I don’t know … When I was found walking on the side of the road, I couldn’t—still can’t—remember anything before that, other than I was eight years old. I couldn’t—can’t—remember who my parents are. And since no one came forward to claim me, I was put in foster care.” I smash my lips together as memories of my time bouncing through homes surface.

  He tilts his head, strands of hair falling into his eyes. “What’s foster care?”

  I lift a shoulder. “It basically means you live with a complete stranger until they get bored, angry, or sick of you, and then you get passed along to another one.”

  Pity fills his eyes. “That’s how you grew up?”

  I shrug again. “That’s how things work in the Common Realm for kids who are parentless. I mean, sometimes they get put in permanent homes, but that usually only happens to younger kids.” I sigh. “Look, I don’t get why any of this is important. So what if I can’t remember my childhood and grew up in foster care? Who cares? That part of my life is over, and I’ve moved on.” Have you, though?

  Jules trades a quick look with Shade and Rune before focusing back on me. “It’s important because, a little over ten years ago, our pack lost someone that was …” He wavers, his voice wobbling, “important to us. We thought she died. Everyone was convinced she was dead.” As his eyes start to water, I again have the strangest compulsion to hug him, but I keep my arms at my side. “Anyway.” He clears the emotions clogging his throat. “A few of us have always wondered—hoped—that maybe she was stolen from the pack and that she wasn’t dead. She would’ve been your age by now, and she had teal eyes.” He pauses. “Her name was Elora.”

  He waits for me to say something, but my lips won’t form words.

  “Holy Vampire Eternals,” Legend whispers from behind me.

  Jules stares at me with hope in his eyes. “Is that your real name?”

  I shake my head. “No, but I’ve heard that name before.”

  His brows furrow. “When?”

  “About a year ago, when I was”—I take a steady breath—“when I … crossed paths with two werewolves who were imprisoned in the Common Realm.”

  Jules’ fingernails dig into my waist as he growls out, “Who were these werewolves?”

  I flinch, leaning away from the rage filtering off him. “I don’t know their names.” My voice is off-pitch as I battle to keep the memories of that day buried. “I just know that they thought my name was Elora, and it’s not.”

  Hesitancy etches into Legend’s face as I grow quiet.

  Please don’t say anything, my eyes plead with him. You promised.

  Legend presses his lips together and doesn’t utter a word.

  “What is your full name?” Jules asks, a little calmer now.

  “Most people just call me Lake. But my full name is Elle Laikyn. I think Laikyn is a middle name, but the police used it as my last name because I couldn’t remember mine …” I trail off as Jules’ chest heaves, his breathing quickening.

  Shade and Rune let out a startled string of curses.

  “What is it?” I ask, though I’m not certain I want to hear the answer.

  Jules holds me firmly. “The first name of the mother of the wolf our pack lost was Elle Laikyn.”

  Chapter 7

  I almost forget how to breathe. “But my name’s not Elora,” I point out in desperation. “That much I remember.” Then why do I have this Elora’s mother’s name for my full name?

  “A wolf’s full name contains their own and both their parents’ and grandparents’,” Jules explains. “I’m guessing you probably just couldn’t remember your entire name because of your memory loss.”

  “No, I’m not this Elora. I’m not a wolf.” But I’m pretty sure I’m trying to live in the Land of Denial. “Just because my name contains a part of her mother’s name doesn’t mean anything. It could be just a freakish coincidence.”

  “That’s not likely,” Jules says cautiously. “Wolves’ names are very unique.”

  “But I don’t have a scent,” I try again. Please don’t let this be true.

  “Yeah, I know.” He nibbles on one of his lip rings as he considers something. “We can find out for sure if you are Elora.” He releases my waist to remove his rings. By the time he sets them down on the table, the burn wounds on his fingers have completely healed. Summoning a breath, he cups my face with his shaky hands. “Do you have any strange markings on your body anywhere?”

  When his gaze zeroes in on my temple, my breath hitches in my throat. My hair is covering my birthmark, but he acts as if he knows it’s hidden beneath the strands.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” He carries my gaze as he lifts his fingers toward the top of my face. “I just want to see something.” He traces a path along my hairline, brushing strands of my hair back. Once my birthmark is on full display, his body begins to tremble. “I don’t … I can’t …” He closes his eyes, his chest heaving with his ragged breaths.

  Soft intakes of breaths fill the air. I peer around the table and find Shade and Rune gaping at me in shock.

  What the shit is going on? Who is this Elora to them?

  I turn back to Jules, preparing to ask questions, but the words die on my tongue as his eyelids pop open and his eyes brighten to a vibrant shade of violet.

  Like in my dream.

  “What’s going on—”

  He crashes his lips to mine, kissing me so fiercely I swear his lips brand my soul. Just like they did in my dream. Only, this time I’m very awake and very aware that a werewolf is kissing me. And while the kiss feels absolutely amazing, like moonlight and violets and soul connecting magic, I know I shouldn’t be kissing him.

  I start to pull away, when he lets out a whimpering groan, his lips chasing mine.

  When our lips reconnect, he devours me, tangling his tongue with mine. My head becomes foggy with lust, and I start to fall into the kiss, allowing his hands to travel up and down my sides, somehow forgetting the last time a werewolf touched me like this—

  I jerk back and shove my hands against his chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  His eyelids flutter open, the violet in his eyes dimming. He blinks a few times, staring at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world. Then his lips magnetize right back toward me.

  I almost let him kiss me again, but the scent of moonlight overwhelms my nostrils, reminding me of what he is.

  I cover his mouth with my hand. “Will you stop trying to kiss me?”

  The fucker has the nerve to chuckle. So do Shade and Rune.

  “She hasn’t changed a bit,” Shade states with amusement. “She’s still as feisty as ever.”

  I throw a scowl in his direction before rotating back around to look at Jules. “What’s going on?” I demand. “What do you know about me? And why do you keep trying to kiss me?”

  “You’ll have to lower your hand from my mouth if you want me to explain.” His lips kiss my palm as he speaks.

  I resist a shiver. “I will, but only if you promise not to try to kiss me.”

  “I can’t promise that.” When my eyes narrow at him, he adds, “I will for now, though, if that’s what you need.”

  Cocky much?

  “I’m
going to lower my hand, but only because I want you to tell me what’s going on. I’m not going to let you kiss me ever again.”

  Liar.

  I dropkick that thought into the back of my mind and remove my hand from his lips.

  A smile graces his beautiful face as he stares at me in wonderment again. The look is starting to make me uncomfortable because he’s a werewolf. And also because it kind of makes me want to kiss him.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Unwelcomed emotions emerge inside me as my gaze zones in on his lips. Then I tear my eyes away from him as adrenaline surges through my veins.

  “You don’t need to be afraid of me,” Jules whispers softly. “Everything’s going to be okay now.”

  “I doubt that,” I reply without looking directly at him. “I have a feeling you’re about to try to convince me that I’m a creature I’ve despised for over a year.”

  His expression plummets. “You despise werewolves?”

  “I thought I already made that pretty clear.” I slant away from him until the edge of the table digs into my back.

  His frown deepens at my obvious attempt to put space between our bodies. “I told you that you don’t need to be afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid. Well, I am, but only because I’m worried you’re going to try to kiss me again,” I lie, hoping he won’t ask why I’m so afraid of werewolves.

  “You sure about that?” His brow teases upward. “Because it kind of felt like you were enjoying it.”

  My gaze involuntarily drops to his lips. Stupid gaze.

  A haughty grin tugs at his lips, and then he moves in to kiss me again.

  “That’s it. I’m out of here.” I dive off his lap, leap across the table, and land on my feet before I can even take my next blink.

  The four of them gape at me as I stand in front of the table with my jaw hanging to my knees.

  “How the hell did I move that fast?” I ask, but I don’t stick around for the answer.

  I whirl around, ready to get the heck out of here and escape the allegations that I’m a creature I’ve grown to hate and fear. I don’t want to be a werewolf. Don’t want to be surrounded by creatures who can hurt me in ways that I may never heal from.

  As images of that day flood my mind, a growl reverberates from my chest, causing the room to still in silence. Every creature stares in my direction. Werewolves. Vampires. Faeries. Demons. I swear they can all see what I am. That I’m ruined. Broken. They can see the scars on my body.

  I need to get out of here.

  I take off toward the stairway, ignoring Legend, Jules, Shade, and Rune’s shouting protests. Not once during my flee do I think about how I’m in the Midnight Realm and have no clue how to get back to the portal. That I shouldn’t even want to get back to the portal. That if I return to the Common Realm, I may have to deal with other werewolves who will hurt me. That I might not even be able to get through the portal since I don’t have my traveling pass. And the pass might not even work since, apparently, I’m a paranormal.

  No, none of those important details cross my mind until I’m out of the club and wandering around lost in the streets of the Midnight Realm.

  Unlike when Legend and I first arrived at the realm, the air is now buzzing with energy as the night creatures emerge from wherever they sleep, the sidewalks and streets packed. I try to keep my head down as I squeeze through the mob, hoping to God no one thinks I’m human.

  Then I bump into a large figure wearing a flowing cloak and nearly fall flat on my face.

  Yep, definitely a human thing to do.

  What happened to that awesome super speed?

  While I manage not to eat a mouthful of cobblestone, I do snag the creature’s attention.

  It stares down at me, its eyes gleaming under the hood.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess it was the Grim Reaper. But I’m fairly sure it resides in the Soul Realm. Then again, if fey can visit the Midnight Realm, then I’m betting so can the Grim Reaper.

  I spin on my heels, ready to bolt from a creature who collects souls from the dead, when it seizes the hem of my shirt and jerks me back.

  “What’s the rush, love,” it—no, definitely a he—whispers in my ear.

  This is so not how I imagined the Grim Reaper to sound, but whatever.

  “Leave me alone,” I growl, throwing my weight forward. “And stay the hell away from my soul.”

  “Your soul?” He tows me back against him, turns me around, and fixes his yellow eyes on me. “What the hell are you talking about, little wolf?”

  Wait? He can sense I’m a wolf. How?

  “That’s what Grim Reapers do—they steal souls.” Without thinking, I shove him away from me.

  His eyes spark, and then laughter howls from underneath his hood. “You think I’m the Grim Reaper? Man, and I thought I’d heard everything by now.”

  Warmth rushes to my cheeks. “What else am I supposed to think? You’re wearing his cloak.”

  He gestures around us. “Take a look around you. Half the creatures in the streets are wearing cloaks tonight.”

  My face flames with heat as I realize at least a dozen creatures near me are rocking the Grim Reaper style. “Well, how the heck was I supposed to know that?” Not my best defense ever, but my mind’s still clouded from everything that happened in the club.

  “Other than the fact you have eyes?” he teases. “And because it’s Midnight Fall Fest?”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” I pretend to have a clue, but I don’t.

  He reads right through my bullshit. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “I’ve lived a very sheltered life,” I lie with a shrug.

  “Have you now?” He rubs where his jawline probably is, although the hood is casting a shadow over his face so I can’t tell for sure. “Tell me, little wolf, what pack are you from?”

  I rack my mind for what pack Legend said Jules is part of. “Umm … The Violet … Hills—Mountain pack.”

  “The Violet Hills Mountain pack?” he questions.

  “No, just the Violet Mountain pack.” Please say I got it right.

  “Aw, you’re part of Jules’ pack.”

  I wonder if that’s a good thing.

  Going on a whim, I nod. “I am.”

  He sniffs the air, then his eyes shimmer like the stars. “Alterum dimidium animae.”

  I stare at him stupidly. “Come again?”

  “If you don’t know what the words mean, I probably shouldn’t be the one to tell you.” He draws down his hood, and my jaw practically ninja kicks the ground as I take in his orangish-yellow spotted skin, his cat-shaped ears, and the whiskers willowing out from the sides of his button nose.

  “You’re a cat?” I bite down on my tongue. Jesus, I need to stop spewing out every thought that pops into my head.

  “Cat shapeshifter,” he corrects, lucky for me, sounding amused. “We’re a very rare species, so I’m not surprised you haven’t seen one of my kind before. But I am a little surprised you don’t know what I am. Most wolves know of our kind.” He starts to circle me with his hands tucked behind his back. “Tell me, little wolf, why is it that you seem so nervous and confused? You barely remembered the name of your pack. And your scent”—he leans in and sniffs my hair—“is very faint. As faint as a wolf cub.”

  He can smell my scent? Why couldn’t anyone else?

  “Probably because I used a little bit too much perfume,” I say with a shrug. “Sometimes I get a little carried away.”

  “Sorry, little wolf, but that’s not how scents work.” He stops in front of me. “That was a good effort, though.” His entire demeanor alters, darkens. “Tell me Elora, Princess of the Violet Mountain pack, where have you been for the last decade?”

  Princess of the Violet Mountain pack? What the fuck?

  Sure, Jules said I was royalty, but never once did the title princess cross my mind.

  I can’t be a princess. I kn
ow nothing about this realm or werewolves or ruling!

  Now is not the time to freak out, Lake. Not with a big-ass cat man looming in front of you.

  I mentally go over what I learned in the self-defense class I took after the werewolves attacked me, but I highly doubt any of the moves will be able to bring a paranormal down, unless my werewolf strength suddenly manifests.

  “My name isn’t Elora,” I tell him, curling my hands into fists.

  The air electrifies, prickles, as he leans in. “Don’t you dare lie to me, little wolf. I’m bigger than you, stronger than you, more powerful than you.” His gaze flicks to my clenched fists. “You’ll never stand a chance.”

  A growl reverberates in my chest. Seriously, what is wrong with me? Ever since Jules declared I was a wolf, my body has been trying to agree with him. Talk about the power of suggestion.

  “My name isn’t little wolf, either,” I bite out, sounding way braver than I feel.

  “You think you’re brave?” His brow elevates. “Because there’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity.”

  I raise my fist, refusing to back down, refusing to let another paranormal break me. “Maybe I’m a little bit of both, then. But you know what? I don’t care.”

  His yellow eyes dim to a bleeding orange. “Fine, if that’s how you want to play, then let’s play.” He elevates his hands, sharp claws coiling from his fingertips. His lips lift, revealing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth. “I know in the Common Realm, dogs are stronger than cats, but things work a little differently here.” He begins to circle me again, every step calculated, a predator preparing to strike his prey. “Cat-shifters possess more power than a werewolf could ever dream of. We own this realm. The creatures here worship us.”

  I turn around, keeping my gaze glued to him, my fist ready to strike. “If that’s the case, then why are you so rare?”

  He hisses, getting in my face. “Because your kind betrayed us. Hunted us down when we were at our most vulnerable.”

  I start to step back, but he lines the tip of a claw to the base of my throat. “Do you want to know which pack did the most damage to our kind? I’ll give you two guesses, but you’ll probably only need one.”