Forbidden, Tempted Series (Book 1)

by Selene Charles

  Chapter 22

  Cain jumped out of his car, a rush of energy rolling through him like thunder, making his blood hum and his muscles thicken.

  The night was cool, felt good against his sweat-slickened skin. Lights were on in the big top, and shouts and screams of amazement from the humans inside reverberated through the ground, traveling up the soles of his feet.

  A sickle-shaped moon stared back at him.

  He should have told her. Told her everything. But he hadn’t. Not because he didn’t think she couldn’t handle it, but because he didn’t know what she’d think of him when she knew he’d killed it. That the sight of her wrapping her hands around Flint’s neck had driven the beast inside him to a level of fury he’d never known.

  That he’d ripped her body into twenty pieces, that the berserker rage inside him had gone so far over the top that he’d have killed his own brother at that moment. That only the sight of Flint lying so helpless and bruised had returned any level of sanity back to him.

  “Cain”—Eli slapped his palm against Cain’s shoulder—“did you see her?”

  He snarled. “Did you find the hive?”

  Eli’s gray eyes narrowed into slits. “It’s like the MFers disappeared. Seth and I can’t get a read on them. There’s been no bank activity. Nothing to trace. And this... you gotta admit it was planned, right? That was a royal guard. She let herself be killed. She knew you’d get her. She was alone—they’re not stupid, Cain. She came into a camp thick with demons and berserkers. She had to know she wouldn’t walk away alive.”

  Walking past a tree, Cain punched it, forcing all the hate and fear through the motion, ripping a hole through the woody pulp, splitting his knuckles wide open. He looked at his fist, breathing hard as the blood welled.

  “It almost killed her, Eli,” he growled. “Why? What do they want with a freaking human? I say we go down to the school tomorrow and just effing take one. Make it squeal like a pig. Tell us what the queen wants.”

  Eli stabbed his fingers through his blond curls. “Dude, you know we can’t. The Order—”

  “Screw the Order,” he snarled. “They want us to take care of this mess, then let us take care of it.”

  Shaking his head, Eli said, “It gets worse.”

  “What?” Cain’s voice dropped an octave, growing thick with rager fury.

  “Adam found out tonight that a member of the Order is here.”

  The blood in Cain’s veins turned to ice. The Order, a sect of humans. Weak and pathetic, save for one tiny detail. They knew every secret of every monster around. The Order generally had a hands-off policy—let the monsters police themselves unless things got out of control. Unless it threatened the lives of mortals. One of the greatest secrets man would never know was that monsters really did exist, and humans were safe thanks to a watch group who knew how to take the monsters down if they got out of hand.

  “Who is it?” Cain asked, cracking his knuckles.

  Eli shook his head. “Not a clue.”

  His nostrils flared. “Does Adam know why they’re here?”

  “Right now, observing. But you can be sure that if we so much as step one foot out of line with this thing, we’ll have the entire army on our behinds. And it’ll be good-bye Diabolique.”

  Cain popped his jaw. Since the day he’d been reborn as a rager, one thought had been beaten into his skull. Don’t ever think you can screw the Order, they will find out and they will put you down.

  Even big, bad Adam got quiet when anyone mentioned them, and Cain couldn’t forget his aunt and the fear scrawled thick in her eyes.

  “Cain, I’m not really sure what is going on, but I have to warn you, man, you should probably listen to Adam on this one and stay away from her. The more you’re around her, the more dangerous it is for her. She’s a human.”

  “It’s forbidden, I know that. It’s why I’ve pushed her away.”

  “Not good enough.” Eli shoved his hands into his pockets, but Cain heard the baritone rumble gathering in his voice. “Stop following her, man. Forget what I said about getting closer. It’s not working. The hive’s not taking the bait anymore. Just stop, you’re getting too deep. You can’t let anyone know. You know what happens to humans who find out.”

  Cain’s blood boiled, pumping through his veins like a rushing tide. He didn’t bother answering Eli; if he looked at him another second, he’d punch him. Or maybe even worse. Instead, he turned on his heel and headed for the shed.

  Once inside, he grabbed the black punching bag and chain leaning against the wall and walked to his car. Popping the trunk, he dropped it in and then rumbled out of the lot, heading to his woods.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was out of the car, tying the bag around the fattest branch of the thickest tree and peeling off his sweater. He started pounding the heavy bag bare-knuckled, reopening the wound on his hand, smearing blood all over the bag as he punched over and over again.

  The beast inside him raged out of control as visions of Flint filtered through his head. Her swollen purple face, the bite wound on her neck.

  Punch.

  The fever, signs of an Aswang infection. She’d been envenomed, but she hadn’t turned.

  Punch. Punch.

  Sweat poured down his brow and back, his shirt clinging to him as he punched harder, driving all his fury into it, wishing he could rip the body up all over again.

  She’d almost died.

  Harder and harder he hit.

  The rage built in his bones like a toxin, turning his vision a deep crimson. He knew his eyes glowed; his body was twice its normal size as his fury transformed him from a man into a monster.

  Cain was going to find the queen, and he was going to kill her.

  The bag exploded in a shower of sand.

  Chapter 23

  It was Wednesday by the time Flint’s father finally relented and let her return to school, an entire two weeks since the attack. She’d kept telling him she felt fine, that he didn’t need to worry, that the doctors had cleared her to return Friday.

  She’d been so bored that the thought of having Mr. Wickham scowl at her again filled her with longing.

  Not to mention the dreams that hadn’t stopped.

  Over and over again she remembered the woman driving toward her, the bite, Abel’s scream... and she remembered other things too.

  Cain’s bloated and distorted face, his voice that’d sounded like it was spewing from the depths of hell, and his smell.

  He had been there.

  And there’d been blood. Lots of it. It had splashed her. She hadn’t seen what he’d done, but she knew he’d killed that woman. It should probably terrify her that he was capable of doing something so brutal, but she was a child of the twenty-first century. She’d been desensitized to the idea thanks to the uberhot Damon on The Vampire Diaries. And the other reason it didn’t bother her... The woman hadn’t been human. Not with the teeth and the eyes and that rotten stench of sour milk. The same stench she’d smelled on the girl who’d stared at her at her locker that day.

  Something was very wrong in this town.

  Hesitant to call them vampires, because she was pretty sure it would make her sound like some sort of whacked-out nut job, Flint also didn’t have any other word to describe it.

  When she’d fallen from the tightrope, Cain had moved so fast she hadn’t seen him. She was pretty sure now why he used the glasses at school. Not because of light sensitivity—she’d seen him too many times without them.

  But because something triggered his eyes to change from blue to red. She wasn’t sure what, maybe when he got hungry.

  She touched her neck.

  Her father was hovering over her in the kitchen, holding a mug of tepid coffee in his hands. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

  Flint glanced up from her bowl of soggy cereal, so distracted she’d forgotten all about him. “Dad, please, I’m bored out of my mind. I don’t want to keep doing homework here, I want to go back to schoo
l.”

  “But, Flinty—”

  She scraped her chair back as she stood and then deposited her half-eaten bowl of cereal in the sink. “Dad, really, I’m fine.” She kissed his whiskered cheek. “I’ve got to run, or I’ll be late for my bus.”

  “I could drive you.” He stood up, his green terry-cloth robe hanging open in the front. He looked better than he did at the hospital that morning, but not by much. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and he looked like he might have even lost a few pounds.

  “Dad, I’m not dead. You need to get back to living. I’m seriously fine. Okay?” She took a deep breath, getting ready to utter something she hadn’t thought would ever come out of her mouth. “Look, why don’t you invite Katy over for dinner tonight?”

  He perked up. “Really? I mean, we’ve got a show tonight, so that’s out. But what about Friday—we’re both off?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Do you really like her?”

  He set his mug down and his shoulders grew taut. “I really do, Flinty.”

  The smile was hard, but she made it happen. “I’m sorry I’ve been so psycho about her. I really thought I was ready. But more than anything, I really want to see you happy again. If she does that—” She let the rest of her words dangle.

  No way she’d lie and say she was happy about it. But maybe with enough time she might start to understand what he saw in her.

  She heard the bus outside her window. “Gotta run, Dad. Love you, bye.”

  Blowing him an air-kiss, she grabbed her book bag and raced out the door, just barely making it to her stop in time. It was only when she sat down that Flint remembered something she hadn’t thought about since that day.

  Katy had come to Layla’s RV. Not only that, but she’d seemed pretty intense about Flint leaving with her.

  Friday, she’d find out why.

  ~*~

  Flint was walking to her locker, thinking way too much, when she spotted a forlorn Abel leaning against the wall. His right arm was in a cast from his wrist up to his elbow, but his skin looked tan and healthy and she’d swear he’d grown another inch since she’d last seen him.

  “Abel!” she cried and raced up to him, hugging him tight around the middle. “What happened to you?”

  His brown eyes lit up as he wrapped his arm around her waist for a quick hug. “I was hoping you’d be here today.”

  “Doctor cleared me to return last week, but my dad was sort of obnoxiously parental.” She smiled, kind of cute, though she’d never tell him so. “So what did happen to you?”

  He glanced at his cast. “You were in a coma, so I’m sure you’ve forgotten.”

  She grinned. “Oh, you mean when I heard you scream like a girl? I remember that!”

  Abel glared. “I didn’t scream like a girl. She caught me unawares. Grabbed my arm and twisted it up like a pretzel, broke every single bone.” He pouted, flexing his arm up and down gingerly.

  Kids, most of whom Flint had no idea who they were though she vaguely recognized a face or two, patted her on the back and told her they’d been thinking of her. She nodded, then turned her back against her locker and whispered so only Abel could hear.

  “Who was she?”

  Abel’s Abercrombie & Fitch plaid button-down shirt slid open as he rubbed his hand through his hair. “Adam says she worked for the circus, but I’m telling you, Flint, I’ve never seen her before in my life. And I freaking live there. And she smelled funny.”

  She lifted her brows excitedly. “Like sour milk?”

  “Yeah.” He looked at her, perplexed. “How’d you know?”

  “Because I smelled her too.”

  The first bell rang. Flint sighed and opened her locker, pulling out books. “I can’t talk to my dad about it, because well... I don’t think he’d understand, but something was weird about that night.”

  She glanced at Abel from the corner of her eye. Of all the people she’d met here, he definitely seemed the most normal. But if something was up at the circus of the damned, shouldn’t he know? He did live there, like he said.

  Was Abel one of them? And she still didn’t have a clue what a them even was. At this point she wasn’t ruling out zombie, vampire, werewolf, maybe even a fallen angel, or whatever other supernatural creature was popular at the moment.

  “Yeah.” He dropped his eyes. “Look, I’ve got to get to class. Talk to you at lunch?”

  She nodded. “Glad you’re okay.” She squeezed his good arm.

  “Glad you’re alive.” He gave her his dimpled grin and then disappeared into the crowd.

  Flint had barely a second to spare before the tardy bell rang.

  Mr. Wickham’s raised eyebrows were oddly comforting.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled and took her seat, refusing to look at Cain, who was already sitting in his seat.

  But of course that resolution lasted all of one minute.

  While Mr. Wickham blathered on about something, she looked at Cain. His hair was messy again, shading a corner of his eye while he rubbed his thumb and index finger along his lower lip. He was staring out the window, and she knew he couldn’t see anything; the windows were frosted, which meant he was giving her the brush-off.

  “Whatever,” she muttered; at least she hadn’t dressed nice today. Standard skinny jeans, cashmere sage-green sweater, and boots.

  Okay, so maybe she’d dressed a little nice.

  But her hair was up in a bun.

  “What is the most important rule in chemistry?” Mr. Wickham looked around the room. “Never lick the spoon.”

  Someone in front groaned.

  “That’s right—tomorrow we’ll be using our Bunsen burners. But today, pop quiz.”

  Flint slouched in her seat. First day back, it figured.

  But when Mr. Wickham walked up to her desk, he said, “Ms. DeLuca, good to see you back. No test for you today. Open your book and read.”

  She was about to say thanks when she caught a whiff of something sweet. Sniffing, she frowned as she watched him walk back to the front of the room. It was him. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she knew. He smelled sweet. Like sweet milk.

  Now that she smelled it, Flint grew paranoid. Maybe it wasn’t him.

  Trying to be discreet, she sniffed her wrist, suddenly aware of Cain’s eyes on her.

  Had she spilled cereal milk on herself?

  But she knew she hadn’t.

  Biting her lower lip, she stared at Mr. Wickham. He must have felt her look, because he glanced up and lifted his brows.

  Even though he was wearing glasses, his eyes weren’t bloodshot.

  She grabbed her forehead. Not sure why it bothered her so much, Flint squeezed her eyes shut. It shouldn’t matter. It was just a smell. Like Cain’s woods, or her dad’s aftershave. But it bothered her.

  “Princess?”

  She looked at Cain; he wore a question on his face.

  Not wanting to deal with him and his hot-and-cold attitude she forced her eyes back to the book in front of her.

  ~*~

  By the time she hit gym class, Flint knew something weird was happening to her. She’d always been strong and graceful. Two skills she’d learned growing up a flier, but today when she’d climbed the rope, it had felt like someone had stuck her in an antigravity chamber she’d climbed up it so easily.

  And when she’d hit the rock-climbing wall, she’d moved like a monkey, resting all her weight on her toes and fingers only.

  She never even broke a sweat. Coach had been impressed, asking her if she’d ever considered track and field.

  But not only was she stronger, ever since smelling Mr. Wickham, smells were stronger. And she smelled freaking milk everywhere.

  Sweet milk.

  Her stomach had started growling constantly. It’d been so bad in English that she’d lied to the teacher and said she had to go to the bathroom, but instead she’d raced to the snack vendor and bought a bag of powdered donuts, then finished them off in seconds.

 
; Now it was lunch, and her stomach was growling again.

  “Umm, are you planning to get any of the five major food groups other than sugar?” Janet eyed her tray when she sat down.

  “Huh?” Flint studied her tray, only just realizing what she’d grabbed. A container of chocolate pudding, two candy bars, a bear claw, and three cartons of chocolate milk. “I was...”

  “Gross.” Rhiannon eyed her tray with a curled nose. Her blond hair was gathered back in a tight braid, making her eyes appear more catlike.

  Flint pried her carton open, studying Rhiannon’s eyes beneath her lashes. They were a pretty blue. Nothing abnormal about them. But then something gold caught her eye, and as Flint chugged the first carton of milk, she realized what.

  The design on the pendant hanging from the chain was the same as the one on Janet’s gold cuff bracelets. She’d not spoken much to either Janet or Rhiannon since the night of the shadow incident, so it was with an anxious stomach that she asked, “Janet, where did you say you got that bracelet again?”

  Janet and Rhi glanced at one another, a swift look, but odd enough for Flint to notice.

  Abel spoke up. “You okay, Flint? You’re eating like me today.”

  “What?”

  In her hand was the pudding cup.

  When had she even opened it? And when had she finished the milk? All the cartons were open and empty; the pudding was half-gone. She hadn’t tasted any of it.

  Rubbing her neck as a cold chill washed through her, Flint jerked to her feet. “I’ve got to... umm.” She looked at her tray, then grabbed the candy and stuffed it into her pocket. “Yeah, I gotta go.”

  “Flint!” Abel called, but she didn’t stop.

  Flint ran outside toward the bleachers, not out of breath when she got there, but feeling the panic rush through her lungs. The second she got to the bleachers, she was hungry again. She tugged the now-squishy candy out of her pocket, then tore open the wrapper and scarfed the chocolate down, then proceeded to do the same to the second one.

  Licking her fingers, feeling like a disgusting pig, she groaned and dropped her face into her hands.

  What was going on with her?

  “Flint?”