The Complete Tempted Series

by Selene Charles

  “God, you and me both.” She sighed deeply, mired in doubt and confusion. “But even if I pass this gauntlet, what’s to say I can restore his sanity?”

  He shrugged. “That’s simple enough. You just give him your soul.”

  She clutched at her robes. “My soul? But I don’t have one.”

  “No,” he agreed. “But you do have the equivalent of one. A soul isn’t a thing, Flint. It can be an object, or even a person. A soul is what you love most. And you do love, you just don’t know it yet.”

  Okay, she wasn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole. Because the thing she loved most was Cain, and there was no way she was taking Cain’s soul away.

  Dean continued on, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil.

  “The fae like to believe themselves set apart from humanity, but they’re really not. They’re just further evolved. You find the thing that makes you most complete, and you gift it to him. Then Abel will come back.”

  Oh, she didn’t like the sound of that at all. In fact, she felt a shiver of black ice skate down her spine at the thought of it. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

  “It’s a riddle, Flint. And unique to each person. Your riddle is your own. Work it out.”

  “You know, for someone who wants me to win”—she finger quoted—“you sure like to be mysterious.”

  “And now you sound like my Pandora.”

  “Your Pandora.” She shook her head. “I’m sure Luc would have something to say about that.”

  “Actually, Luc has nothing to say about that. In fact, I have plans for Luc. Plans that will bring him here.”

  She frowned. “Here? To the fae?”

  Chuckling, he stood. “Who do you think will be the replacement stag? Sleep well, Flintlock. I know I will.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  Then with a wink and a laugh, Death vanished.

  61

  Flint

  “Good morning, darkling.”

  Flint came to with a karate chop. Idris laughed, sidestepping quickly, giving her an incredulous look. “Don’t like to be woken up, do you?”

  Muttering beneath her breath, it took her a second to realize she’d once more fallen asleep in the chair, and there was a puddle of drool on the arm.

  Could she be any more embarrassed right now? Probably not. “You’re just lucky I wasn’t faster. And for the record, it’s not being woken up that freaks me out so much as waking up to find a zombie face practically smushed to mine.”

  Idris moved in the way only a fae could and hopped gracefully onto the seat opposite her, kicking his feet up on the armrests as he poured himself a tumbler of red wine.

  Today he’d actually worn a shirt. Thank God.

  “Get dressed. Make yourself ready for our final day of training—”

  “For tomorrow I die,” she mumbled, shuffling off to the bathroom and rolling her eyes as his laughter followed her through the door.

  He was way too happy about this situation, which royally ticked her off. Brushing her teeth, she took care of what needed taken care of, then shuffled out the door and passed him without uttering a word as she made for her bedroom and a change of clothes.

  She’d probably have to wear the tactical clothes since there’d only been two options yesterday. But she sure could have gone for a pair of track shorts, shoes, and a tank top instead.

  Yanking open the door, she was startled to find just that folded on a shelf that’d been empty earlier.

  Frowning, she wondered if the wardrobe closet was magical the way everything else was and then figured probably so. “This is faerie after all. Crazy. Stupid… blah.”

  She was tired, and it was way too early to be clever right now. Pulling on the clothes, she looked down at her skinny but athletic legs. The vine tattoos had gone clear down to her ankles now, but they were no longer just vines. Now there were images of blooming roses scattered all throughout.

  Flint had never been one for tats. On hot guys, sure. But on her, not so much.

  Thank God Cain seemed to like them. She got dressed quickly, wondering what tortures lay in store for her today.

  With a heavy sigh, she patted down her top and turned on her sneakered heel toward Idris, wondering if maybe he’d been hitting the vino for hours and that was the reason for his weird mood.

  “Sit,” he said the moment she reappeared and pointed to her chair.

  Odd how proprietary she was starting to feel about this place. But it sort of was her chair; she had two days’ worth of drool stains to prove it. She pointedly ignored the little voice inside her head that said she was getting too attached to this place already.

  Sitting, she debated whether to give him the evil eye and grumble or just shove bacon onto her plate and cram her mouth full of porky goodness.

  Porky goodness won.

  As she munched he spoke. “You ready for today? Speed.”

  “Running. Yay.” Flint didn’t try to have ladylike manners, not speaking while chewing and all that. Truth was, she didn’t care. She was tired. Sore. The cuts on her body still hadn’t healed yet, and her conversation with Death last night wasn’t sitting right with her.

  She’d had horrible dreams. Dreams of war and demons and angels and Luc turning into a deer and being shot by thousands of arrows as his blood leaked into the forest floor.

  It wasn’t like she knew much about Luc. She hardly knew anything about Cain’s aunt Pandora, to be honest. But she knew that Luc was her lover or something.

  Cain had always been kind of vague about their relationship, some sort of weird on-again, off-again sort of thing. But whatever it was, they were very close. Then again, he’d also mentioned in passing about some new boyfriend material… a death priest.

  Pandora’s life was as entertaining as a soap opera for Flint, and during the dead of night when the circus was asleep and it was just her and Cain, they’d talk about everything.

  Flint felt like she knew Pandora a little. But more than knowing her, she knew just how much Cain loved her. He spoke more fondly of his aunt than he did either of his parents.

  How would Cain feel knowing that he was swapping out the life of his brother for his aunt’s boyfriend? Would he care?

  Or for that matter, did Flint?

  “Hello?”

  She started at the sharp burst of sound, glancing up to see Idris snapping his fingers under her nose and staring at her with confusion.

  “I lost you for a second there. Are you okay?”

  He looked genuinely worried, and she frowned, rubbing the bridge of her nose but forgetting how greasy her fingers were with bacon fat.

  “Ew, gross. I slimed myself.” Wrinkling her nose, she grabbed the edge of her tank top and rubbed it off her face, then sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. You look distracted. And distraction we can’t have.”

  She wanted to get snarky with him, but the truth was, he was right. All she had left was today.

  “Speed. Got it. Let’s go run.”

  Her stomach was stuffed anyway.

  He shook his head before finishing the final sip of wine in his glass. “As I said before, we are not running today. That is not the speed challenge.”

  She stilled. “Oookay. So if we’re not running, how exactly does speed work? Not counting the drug. Just say no.”

  What a lame joke. She almost groaned at her own dumb attempt at humor. She really was off her game today.

  “What?” he asked, clearly confused.

  Shaking her head, she gave him a tremulous smile. “Nothing. Ignore me. You’re right—I’m not totally present right now.”

  He leaned forward. “Well, be present, darkling.”

  His good mood of earlier was gone. Idris looked intense and focused, and that was actually a good thing because it helped her to settle her own nerves.

  Tomorrow was do or die, literally. She’d failed yesterday’s practice, she couldn’t fail today.

  “Are you
through?” He stared down at her empty plate.

  She shrugged. “I could eat more.”

  “Good.” Standing, he ignored her comment completely and vanished the food, even the library setting, with a flick of his wrist. “Then let’s get to work.”

  Rolling her neck from side to side, she hoped that maybe speed was more like scaling a rock-climbing wall or climbing a tall tree, both things she was sure she could handle.

  “Transdimensional travel.”

  “What the what!” she squeaked, thoroughly freaked out by the sound of that. She hated science, and that had sounded an awful lot like science. Or science fiction, whatever the case might be. Her stomach rolled. “Please tell me that’s got nothing to do with teleportation or something, ’cause I can’t—”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “—do that,” she finished lamely. “Oh man. I’m in trouble aren’t I, Idris? How can I win at these gauntlets when I have to do things I’ve never learned to do before? I’m like the world’s lamest fae ever.”

  It was the very wrong time for him to smile, but he did it anyway. “Look.” He grabbed her shoulder and squeezed. “That’s why I’m here. To help you understand. To give you some sort of chance. Believe in yourself, darkling. I do.”

  “You do? But why?”

  His knuckles brushed her cheek and she trembled, wanting to ask him to stop touching her so much.

  Idris thoroughly confused her. Hot one second and cold the next. A lot like Cain had been at the start of their relationship. But unlike Cain, Flint never got the impression that she was anything special to Idris, more like she baffled and intrigued him despite himself. And while she thought he was sorta hot, in an undead sort of way, she didn’t feel anything more than that for him.

  Stepping away from his touch, she shook her head, and he stared at his hand as though boggled by his own actions.

  “Have you ever wondered at your own actions and whether you should change course?” His question came out of left field and had her thoroughly stumped.

  She understood none of what he meant and didn’t know how to answer him because of it. “What did you do, zombie?”

  His lips twitched and he gave a slight shake of his head, then eyes that’d looked dazed and distant suddenly glanced at her and she knew he was all present again. Whatever maudlin emotion that’d been, it’d clearly passed.

  “Idris?” she said his name, hoping to prompt him to snap out of it.

  He shook his head. “Transdimensional travel,” he said, then cleared his throat before pressing on. “It’s a skill that all fae possess to some extent. Depending on our level of innate power though, some of us can travel longer and farther than others. Whoever The Ciardah pairs you up against, you can be sure he will find someone powerful.”

  It gave her the shivers to know that she’d been right in suspecting him of hiding something, but at the same time, there were definitely bigger issues right now.

  “Well, that’s just swell.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Watching me fumble my way through this should be highly entertaining for him. So let’s just get started already. How do I open these highways to hell?”

  He paused, chuckled, and then gave her an odd frown. “You’re very different than I’d expected, darkling.”

  She shrugged. “That’s me, a veritable well of surprises. Just ask my dad. Now”—she clapped her hands and spread her feet wide in an I-mean-business stance—“let’s get this party started, shall we?”

  “We shall.”

  And with only a thought he’d placed them in a world she’d only ever seen inside video games. A world of radiant neon with no roof and no floor.

  They were suspended in the air—her heart pounded like a jackhammer in her chest—and though she couldn’t see a floor, she felt like she stood on a solid surface and yet not.

  It was really hard to describe.

  She tested the strength of it with her toe; there was some give to the air. Like it was denser than normal.

  “Idris?” She said his name like a question, then looked up when after a moment there was still no answer, only to discover she was completely alone.

  Okay, now she was starting to panic just a little.

  “Idris!” She cupped hands around her mouth and cried out his name several times, but all she saw was an unending sea of neon blue. “Oh God, this is like my own personal Tron. This is hell. I’m in hell.”

  There was a chuckle that radiated all around her, she recognized it immediately as belonging to Idris, but she still didn’t see him.

  “If you want to get out of hell, I suggest you stop playing around and focus, darkling.”

  She stomped her foot. And while it didn’t give her that satisfying sound back that it would when she did it on, you know, a solid surface, it still pacified her frayed nerves a little.

  “How! You tell me how. I’ve never transtraveled. Oh geez, is that even a word? I don’t know how to do this.”

  “Look at that light ahead of you—”

  She was about to ask him if he was smoking crack, because there was blue light everywhere, but this time she noticed what she hadn’t before, a pinprick of golden light in the distance. Like after traveling through a dark tunnel and you just barely spy the exit after forever.

  She could have jumped with joy at the sight of it. “That’s it? I only have to go through that?”

  “Yes. But—”

  “Piece of cake, dude.” And she wouldn’t even have to transhopjumpthingy to do it either. Flint focused on running. Pushing away from the place she was currently floating, she pumped her arms, pumped her legs, and she was running like her life depended on it.

  Except for one problem.

  Even though the air felt denser, there really was no floor beneath her. Nothing to gain an iota of traction on for her to be able to propel herself forward. She was gasping for breath and knew she looked like an idiot. No, scratch that, a drowned-rat idiot, because she was sweating buckets. But there was no moving from that spot at all.

  After a minute of going absolutely nowhere, she dropped her arms and spun around. “I’m not moving.”

  It took Idris a while before he answered her, and when he did she sensed a wee bit of hostility in his voice. Like he was irritated at her. Which she totally couldn’t understand—it’s not like she cut him off when he was trying to explain the rules of this place to her and attempted to run like a goon through air the equivalent of quicksand or sumthin’.

  So okay, that’s exactly what she’d done. And deep down she suspected part of that had been some weird need to impress him that she wasn’t a total goner.

  Except clearly she was.

  Could this day suck any harder?

  “You’re not moving because you can’t. And if you’d not tried to do things your own stubborn way, you’d have known that. Do you want to pass this gauntlet or don’t you, darkling? Because if I’m just wasting my time, I’d prefer you let me know now.”

  Dang! That had sounded grumpy and was the first time he’d ever sounded like that with her. Like he was a brother snapping at his stupid sister.

  She shivered and shook her head. She was a ninny.

  “Okay.” She held up a finger. “So maybe I should have paused for a second to listen to you. But you can just take that stick out your rear, zombie boy. I feel dumb enough as it is. Obviously I was wrong.”

  Planting her hands on her hips, she felt a little ridiculous to be so drenched in sweat while assuming the Peter Pan pose as she was.

  Cain would die from laughter.

  “I’m sorry, okay,” she grumped, then flicked her wrist. “Please explain to me how to get to the white light. And by the by, that white light isn’t going to kill me is it? On Earth talking about going to the white light doesn’t mean—”

  “You’re in a spatially distorted version of reality. A time loop as it were,” he said. “The light you see is your time. Your real time. This is an alternate version of time, one where t
ime is suspended.”

  “Wait. Wait. Wait.” She shook her hand. “Suspended? As in time is paused?”

  Flint wasn’t superbright sometimes, but she understood words just fine and she really, really hoped she was wrong.

  “Exactly.”

  Inside she was starting to panic. A little. Okay, a lot. But she needed to clarify that he meant what she thought he meant before she gave herself permission to flip out.

  “So what you’re saying is I can stay in here forever?”

  “Without a second of time lost out there, yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Oh my God.” She started to hyperventilate a little—breathing in and out and wringing her hands together.

  Suspended in time, stuck in here with Idris forever until she figured out how to transhoppy outta here, and no one would know or miss her?

  “Breathe, darkling,” he said calmly.

  “You just told me you’ve got me locked up in an alternate time loop where I can stay forever and no one would ever miss me. Excuse me if I’m having a bit of a moment here!” she snapped, then wrapped an arm around her middle and tried to breathe through the panic, but it wasn’t helping. It so wasn’t helping. There was currently a nest of razor-winged swallows flying in her tummy and making her ill.

  On the heel of that thought came another. He might not ever plan to let her leave. She might be stuck here forever.

  “Oh my—”

  “I’m not imprisoning you here forever, Flint. So you can just relax.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she stared up at the nothingness of neon blue. “Are you reading my mind? Can you do that too? I’ll kill you, Idris, I’ll—”

  Chuckling—and he was such a dead man for continuing to laugh at her the way he was—he said, “It’s not hard to guess where your thoughts are headed. You may look fae, but you hardly act like one.”

  “It’s because I’m not!” She punched the air.

  Then punched it again.

  Her punches landed on absolutely nothing. But if she closed her eyes, she could envision that it was Idris she hit, especially when the dense air gave way just a nudge.

  “Feel better yet?” he asked drolly.