Forbidden, Tempted Series (Book 1)

by Selene Charles

  She didn’t need to look to know who’d said her name.

  “What, Cain?” His name came out muffled between her fingers.

  Cain pried her hands off her face and then slid his sunglasses off, his eyes gently probing her face. The scent of corn and car exhaust smacked her in the nose. She trembled. Maybe her dad was right and she was suffering some sort of PTSD, maybe she hadn’t been ready to come back.

  “I think we need to talk.”

  She lifted a brow, not in the mood for his games or his crap. “So talk.”

  He was kneeling, looking over his shoulder at the cafeteria. The blond surfer twins were standing by the door. A jerk of his head sent Tweedledee and Tweedledum back inside, then he stood and held out his hand.

  “Not here.”

  “I know you’re not asking me to ditch, especially not after what happened last time.”

  He sighed. “You’ll be safe with me, princess.”

  Still feeling obstinate, she eyed him hard. “I was safe with your brother too. If you recall nothing happened to me until you,” she said, stressing the word, “took me to the circus. So maybe you’re the jinx. And you know what, I’m really not in the mood today. I’m not feeling good.”

  She was feeling hungry again. Cramps twisted her stomach.

  “You weren’t as safe as you thought. You want to know about those red eyes?”

  That immediately got her attention. “What do you know about that?”

  He turned and started walking toward the school parking lot. The message was clear—stay and learn nothing, or follow and maybe figure something out.

  Disgusted by her actions, Flint stood and followed him. Teenagers really were stupid sometimes, because obviously she hadn’t learned her lesson with Cain. Hot and cold. Mean and caring. And she never knew which Cain she was going to get.

  They were in the car, and she knew where they were headed before he even turned out of the lot. To his woods. Which she now strongly associated as their place. The place where, when they were there, Cain became the guy she actually liked to be around.

  Stomach twirling with more than just a case of the munchies, she nibbled on her lip as the tense silence stretched between them.

  “Last time you said the school called my dad. I really can’t do this to him again. I’m just lucky I nearly got killed—got me out of a year’s worth of grounding.”

  A strange sort of snarl rumbled through his chest as he shifted gears, making the ride feel like it’d kicked into hyperdrive. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” she asked, confused.

  He looked at her. “Make a joke about it.”

  Heart fluttering like wings in her throat, she asked, “Why do you care?”

  Cain was staring back at the road. “I just do.”

  She knew they were close when the thick grove of trees appeared around them. This was wrong. If her dad found out, he’d be devastated, and yet she couldn’t pretend that she’d rather be anywhere else at the moment.

  Then they were pulling onto the gravel road, and it felt to her like nobody else existed on the planet except the two of them. It was quiet, devoid of any other life. It was just them and the trees, and the thought shot a heady thrill down her spine.

  When he parked, she opened the door and stepped out. There were still tree branches scattered all around from the storm, but the wind smelled of wildflowers and damp earth. Flint turned her face into it, closing her eyes for a split second, grateful not to be smelling milk or car fumes. Then his scent of moss and pine and clover teased her, made her lashes flutter open.

  He was staring at her, gazing into her eyes, and she couldn’t have moved even if she’d wanted to. Pinned between the open car door and his body, she felt his heat push against her, making it hard for her to know where she began and he ended.

  In that moment, Cain was all she could see or think about.

  His hands were gentle as he rested them against her cheeks, the pads of his palms rough but exciting, making her body squirm with nervous anticipation.

  Then he was pulling her into his hard chest and she wanted to fight it, this... whatever it was. Wanted to yell at him to leave her alone, stop screwing with her mind, her heart, but she did none of that. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his back, resting her head on his chest, entranced by the steady rhythm of his pulse.

  All too soon, the hug ended and he was leading her to the bunker. Again she saw the tensile strength of his biceps flex as he pulled the wooden door up. This time, he went in first and she followed. He pulled the hatch back down, blocking out the sunlight completely. It was dark, but he held her hand as he led them down the long flight of steps.

  His scent was everywhere—her nose, her hair, her clothes. It made her dizzy and happy. Cain led her to the inflatable couch, then he left just long enough to turn on the lantern. It was like they were back in that night. She smiled and glanced at the stack of towels, remembering.

  “That day, when you told me you found me because of my smell.” She held her breath, feeling stupid for even asking. “Were you serious?”

  Flint expected him to clam up like he’d done so many times before. He sat next to her, so close their thighs touched, and she couldn’t help the shiver that raced through her.

  “Yes.” His eyes narrowed. “I saw you this morning. When Wickham walked by.”

  She cocked her head, chewing on the inside of her cheek, feeling the strange urge to deny it, but knowing she needed to be honest if she had any hope of getting any information from him.

  He licked his teeth. “Saw you at lunch too, eating all that sugar. It bit you—it did something to you?”

  “It?” She swallowed hard, almost afraid where this was leading.

  Cain scrubbed his hard jaw with his closed fist. “We call it hive, because of how they live. But their real names are the Aswang.”

  There was a rabbit thumping in her chest, because no way could a heart beat as fast as hers was right now. “The Aswang?”

  His jaw was clenched so tight that Flint sensed he didn’t want to tell her any of what he was about to say.

  Tossing her a box, he sat back, then stared ahead.

  Flint gave a pathetic laugh when she saw what it was. A box of granola bars. Reaching inside, she grabbed one and started to nibble on it.

  “The Aswang are a sort of vampiric race.”

  She coughed, bits of granola stuck in her throat. It was one thing to think it, because just thinking didn’t make you nuts, but it was another to hear someone actually speak it. “Do you mean like those Goths that dress up and wear fake teeth?”

  He shot her a “come on” look. “No, princess. Porcelain teeth can’t rip hypodermic style into your neck.”

  Trying to remain calm, even though her hands were shaking, she asked, “So what are they exactly? And are you one?” Her stomach, still hungry, was also full of sick nerves. But she had to know the truth. “Because your eyes are red too.”

  He smirked. “That’s why I wear the glasses.”

  Flint pulled away ever so slightly, very aware that she was trapped underground with a—

  “But I’m not Aswang.”

  Her racing pulse slowed a notch. “So what are you?” She was eating the granola, more to distract herself than anything else, still not completely trusting that he was telling her the truth. Afraid that maybe he was.

  Cain pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know where to start with this.” His eyes were hard, still light blue, but a dark rim began to spread around the edges.

  She finished the granola bar and tore the wrapper off another one. He stared at her, which made her all sorts of self-conscious, especially because she was already two bites away from finishing the bar.

  “You gonna speak, or just stare at me like I grew a third eye?” she mumbled and swallowed. The rest of the box called to her, but Flint forced herself to set it aside.

  “What do you know about vampires?”

  “Only
that they sparkle, holy water makes their skin fall off, and they hate the smell of garlic. Am I close?”

  He laughed and so did she. Cain looked shocked, as if he hadn’t expected that answer.

  “Funny,” he muttered and then sighed, and she noticed his eyes once again returned to normal.

  “I’m not supposed to be talking to you about any of this,” he said finally.

  “Then why did you bring me here?”

  He searched her face. “Because I think part of you already knows. You’ve been followed by them.”

  Flint thought back to all the times she’d seen red eyes and had shrugged it off, chalking it up to poor lighting or exhaustion. “How long?”

  “Since the day I met you.”

  “Why? Do I smell tasty or something? Is that why she attacked me? Should I perfume myself with holy garlic?”

  His lips twitched. “I don’t know why they’ve taken an interest in you. I’ve been trying to figure that out.”

  When he moved, it brought their bodies into close contact. Everywhere he touched her, she was hyperaware, and her breathing came harder, filling her lungs with more of his intoxicating scent.

  “I’m confused. They’re vampires. But you’re not one. You call them hive and Aswang. What exactly is going on in this town, Cain?”

  Rubbing his hands on his pants, he said, “This history is long and convoluted. It all started with Adam.”

  “Your dad?” She frowned. “Is he a vampire?”

  Cain shook his head. “No. He belongs to a race of people called the Nephilim.”

  She sucked in a breath. Because even though she hadn’t been to Mass in forever, there wasn’t a Catholic around who hadn’t heard about the demon-human abominations. “Your dad’s a demon!” she squeaked. “So that means you’re a... a...”

  The muscle in his jaw tensed. “A quarter. Yes.”

  “Oh my God.” She got up, the sugar in her system making her feel the urge to vomit or pace. So she chose to pace.

  She’d been obsessing over a demon. A fire and brimstone, forked-tailed, cloven-hooved... demon.

  “Flint,” he said softly, “you can trust me.”

  She didn’t look at him. “I thought you guys were fairy tales, that ya know... you were like the boogeyman or something. Made up to scare us.” She licked her lips as her speed increased. Back and forth between the shelves, afraid to look at him. Somehow feeling that now that he’d told her who he really was, his skin would turn red and a pronged tail would grow from his behind.

  “Princess, stop walking. This is hard enough without you acting crazy about it.”

  “Crazy?” She refused to believe the high-pitched giggle had just come from her. “I was thinking vampires, not demons and not”—she waved her hand at him—“you.”

  Flint pinched the bridge of her nose. She would not panic. He was talking. That’s what she’d wanted all along. And though this was nowhere near what she’d imagined, she had to listen without acting like a silly little girl about it.

  Taking a second to compose herself, she gripped the corner of the metal shelf and counted slowly to ten, stilling the chaotic thoughts running rampant through her mind. She’d let him talk. Tell her everything. Tonight when she got in bed, then she’d have her freak-out. But not here, not in front of him.

  She turned on her heel.

  “Do you swear that everything you’re telling me right now is the truth? You’re not trying to make an idiot of me, tell me something that isn’t true and laugh when I start to believe it?”

  “Princess, I don’t have the time for that.” He shook his head, shoving his fingers through his thick hair.

  Okay, he sounded sincere, and she really wanted to understand. Being braver than she’d ever been in her life, Flint returned to his side and sat back down.

  “Tell me,” she whispered.

  “I should tell you”—he eyed her—“that I’m not Nephilim. I don’t have enough demon blood in me to be like them.”

  “Then what are you?” She was trying so hard to understand, but so much of this was confusing. “Are you human?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I’m what’s known as a berserker.” He paused.

  She flicked her thumbnail against her teeth. “And that means?”

  Cain blew out a heavy breath. “It means I’m worse than a guy on the juice. Anger triggers the demon blood. It makes me volatile and edgy. I can control it enough to not have a freak-out in school, but my eyes are the first things to change. They turn red when the blood pumps harder.”

  Flint couldn’t help but look at his eyes now. They were a rich, startling blue. She really loved his eyes.

  “Then why did you start taking them off around me?”

  His smile was self-conscious. “Because I don’t feel angry around you.”

  “You don’t?” Her heart flipped. “What do you feel?”

  “Amused.”

  She huffed and he grinned, then grabbed her hand and started playing with the pad of her thumb again. Flint sucked in a sharp breath at the heated contact.

  “I’m glad you find me so amusing,” she said, voice grown breathy with excited nerves.

  He shrugged.

  “So you’re just a raging ball of anger then, huh?”

  “Most times. But it’s more than just the rage. The anger fuels my adrenaline; it makes me stronger, faster.”

  “And you can smell me?”

  He nodded.

  “So if you can smell me, can you smell them?”

  Frowning, he asked, “Them? The hive? You smell them?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “So does Abel. They smell like sour milk.”

  Cain’s fingers stilled on her wrist and all she could think was she wanted him to keep touching her.

  “Or at least I think they do. Today...” She sighed, wondering why she was telling him all this. “All I smelled in the school was sweet milk. I’m so hungry. I feel this constant need to eat now, and I’m scared.” Flint touched her canine. “Is it possible that when she bit me I turned into one of them?”

  His thumb resumed running along the inside of her wrist, and her stomach fluttered harder.

  “No, I don’t think so. From what I know about them, their queen is the one who ultimately turns them.”

  Flint turned toward him, crossing her leg in front of herself. “The queen? You called them the hive earlier. So they live underground or...”

  “No.” He pursed his lips. “We’re not really sure where they live. They move constantly, but I do know it’s aboveground. Each time we’ve found a lair, it’s been in an abandoned factory or shelter. But we always get there too late. They’re gone. We find stragglers now and then, but they never talk.”

  She thinned her lips. “So those kids at school?”

  He nodded. “Are hive.”

  “Why don’t you ask them?”

  Cain’s chuckle was sarcastic. “They won’t tell. Those kids at school, they’re called drones. They do the will of the queen—she tells them to jump, they ask how high. She tells them to kill, they ask how many. She tells them not to talk, they’ll die laughing in your face. But even if I could break them, I can’t touch them.”

  “Why not?”

  “The Order.”

  “This is all really confusing. There’s”—she finger-quoted—“the Order, the Nephilim, hive, also known as Aswang, berserkers... am I forgetting anything?”

  “You’ve just barely begun to scratch the surface, princess. My world is dark and nasty.”

  “Then how come if there’re so many monsters out there, this is my first time ever learning about it?”

  “Because that’s the way the Order designed it.”

  “And who exactly are they again?”

  “You have to swear that whatever I tell you now, you won’t tell anyone else.” His eyes were hard, sincere. Almost like he was worried.

  “My dad?”

  “No one, princess. This knowledge, your kind is not su
pposed to have it. If anyone finds out, it would be...”

  She glanced down at their clasped hands. “Why are you telling me this, Cain?”

  His finger grazed her jaw, forcing her to glance up. “Because you’ve seen too much. I’m not going to pretend like you didn’t see what you saw. I can guarantee that the Order is already keeping an eye on you thanks to that bite. If they find out you’ve been changed, they’ll send someone to take care of you.”

  Her heart clenched, and terror must have squeezed through her eyes because he shook his head. “Mostly they leave us alone if we live by their rules. Follow the code. But if you step out of line, they will put you down.”

  “But that’s not fair. I don’t even know the code, what if I’ve already stepped over?”

  Flint mentally catalogued everything she’d done today. Aside from acting like a pig, there hadn’t been much difference.

  He shook his head. “Have you told your father? Abel? Anybody?”

  “No. So Abel is human? He’s not like you?”

  Cain continued to mess around with her hand. Now he was running his thumb along the webbing between her thumb and finger.

  “He’s as human as you at this point.”

  “So he will be like you?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded, his voice sounding grim. “But until he is, we can’t clue him in.”

  “But he suspects something, Cain. I talked to him this morning. He knows that woman didn’t work at the circus.”

  “Look, that’s the Order’s policy. Humans, no matter if they won’t be for much longer, can’t know. He may have seen something, but if we all deny it, human nature will insist it was all in his head and he’ll dismiss it. Human psych one oh one.”

  The quiet hush of the bunker increased her anxiousness. It wasn’t hard to imagine some scary boogeyman listening in while they talked, ready to slit her throat the second it deemed she “knew too much.”

  “So why are you telling me this and not Abel?”

  Flint knew she sounded like a broken record, but if he was willing to let Abel believe a lie, why would he risk so much to tell her?

  “Because Abel is protected within the circus. Almost everyone working there is a monster. If bad things come, we’ll take care of them. But you don’t have that. You belong to the world where we don’t exist. You could see the danger signs and never know it. I want you to be aware so you can guard yourself.”