The Complete Tempted Series

by Selene Charles

  Abel spoke for them both. “So we’re banished?”

  It was so good to hear his voice, but her joy was tempered by the fact that she’d had to lose something precious to hear it again.

  “Yes. And neither of you can ever return.”

  “I wouldn’t have wanted to anyway! You’re a coward, Ciardah,” Flint cried, “and I hate you! I hate you!” She screamed, trembling with fury and vowing to break anyone or anything that came at her now, but no one did.

  Dean looked at Abel, ignoring Flint’s outburst completely. “I’m sending you back first.”

  Abel kissed the crown of Flint’s head, then nodded once and stepped out of her arms. In a flash, he was gone.

  Death looked at her. Flint wrapped her arms tight around her body.

  “What do you want?” she snapped, already knowing deep down what this was about.

  “When we return, do not forget the cost for this freedom. His and yours. As much as it pains me, darkling, you’re mine now.”

  Chin wobbling, all she could do was turn and stare off at the pit of fire below them. She’d known all along nothing came without a cost, but this cost had been far too high.

  “I know” was all she could manage to say.

  Without another word, Dean took her hands and returned them home.

  70

  Cain

  For months all he’d wanted was his brother back. And now Cain had him, but in gaining him, he’d lost Flint.

  Since their return over a little over a month ago, she’d not left her room, locking even him out, barely talking, only giving monosyllabic answers when necessary.

  The only person she’d talk to was Grace, and even then he wasn’t allowed in.

  Abel had told Cain a little of what’d happened, the choice she’d had to make.

  When Cain had realized just what Flint had gone through, what she’d had to do to free Abel, Cain hadn’t known what to do. How to react. Gratitude, rage, pain, and helplessness were all competing emotions, but beneath that was unbearable sadness.

  Flint was not only his mate but his compass. Their bond meant he felt everything she did. And right now he wanted to rage from the loss of her.

  Abel gripped his shoulder. “Give her time, man. It wasn’t easy what she went through. But I know she loves you ’cause she picked me.”

  Cain grunted, rubbing his eyes. “She didn’t just save you for me, Abel. She loves you too.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded but stared absently off into space.

  Abel had changed too. Gone was the crack-up who’d been irreverent about life, who’d sworn Cain was the devil in disguise. He was serious, silent.

  Sometimes in the middle of a conversation he’d stop talking and just drift off into contemplative silence, lost in his head and to the demons that tortured him there.

  They sat in the kitchen, finishing up the last of the morning’s breakfast. The girls and Eli and Seth were out, following up on a thin thread of a lead.

  There’d been rumor of a cult of mountain lion shifters with possible ties to the Triad in the area.

  It wasn’t much to go on, but they had to try.

  They were out of time and resources. And only Cain and Adam had stayed behind to help guard Abel and Flint, neither of whom were in any condition to fight.

  Cain studied his brother. In a lot of ways he looked the same, though his muscle was a little more packed on, his face broader. But for the most part, Abel was Abel.

  His eyes were shadowed with pain, and he didn’t laugh the way he used to, but the monster Layla had unlocked was suppressed. Unlike Cain, who’d had to be watched day in and day out for over a year because of the instability of rage episodes, Abel suffered none of that.

  He was calm, placid waters.

  The other night when Seth had mentioned Layla’s name in passing, something they’d all tried hard not to do because of the fear that it might trigger an episode in Abel, his brother had barely reacted other than a brief flicker of interest in his dark eyes before he’d resumed twisting his fork through his cold plate of noodles.

  Against all odds, Flint had kept to her word—she’d brought him back. All of him. And Cain loved her even more for it.

  But the cost had been great to them all.

  Abel kept mostly to himself. He talked with Rhiannon who was his personal kanlungan, but not with Janet. The division between him and Ja was obvious to Cain, who felt his kanlungan’s pain like a blow to his heart.

  Janet was bonded to Abel, and whether he ever bonded back or not was immaterial—the deed was done. Once, Cain had feared that maybe Abel was developing a pseudo bond to Flint, like maybe he was forcing her into the position of compass because of his crush on her.

  But now he didn’t even reach out to her. Abel was an island unto himself that he allowed Cain and Adam to visit, but only briefly.

  Pushing his chair back, Abel frowned down at his barely touched plate of eggs.

  “You want some coffee?” he asked out of the blue. “’Cause I want some.”

  Blinking, but also desperate that his brother stay with him a little longer, Cain pretended to suddenly take an active interest in the idea of coffee.

  “Yeah, sure. But I can get my own.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. I got it.”

  And though Abel was no longer the gangly teen he’d been, having grown into his berserker form, he still walked as though he were nothing but a sack of skin and bones.

  He hung his head and shambled out of the dining room.

  Cain sighed deeply.

  Adam, who’d gone to man the surveillance system they’d installed a while ago, came into the room rubbing at his eyes and yawning loudly.

  “Need coffee,” he said without preamble.

  As a Nephilim, Adam didn’t require a boost of caffeine to wake himself up. But being a carnie meant he’d developed a taste for the bitter brew through the long years, and just like any other type of substance addiction, Adam craved it more than he actually needed it.

  “Get in line. Abel’s in there brewing a pot.”

  The man whom Cain had never felt comfortable enough with to call his father, even though genetically they shared DNA, paused and frowned over his shoulder.

  Though he and Adam had spent a lot of time together lately, more than usual, it hadn’t exactly brought them closer. Adam was, and would probably always be, a mystery to Cain.

  One thing he did know now that he hadn’t known before—Adam was capable of feeling something for someone other than Layla. The thought of losing Abel had nearly brought the giant of a man to his knees. Cain was just grateful Abel was back. He wasn’t sure what Adam might have done if he’d not gotten his son back.

  A depressed Nephilim was a dangerous Nephilim.

  Bad enough having to deal with one murderous, psychopath of a parent, Cain would have lost his mind if he’d had to deal with two.

  “Still doing his thing, huh?” Adam scrubbed his jaw, voice deep in contemplation.

  He didn’t need to expound on what he meant, they were both worried about Abel’s current, and fragile, state of mind.

  “If you mean drifting off, then yes. He’s not totally there sometimes. It worries me.”

  A muscle in Adam’s jaw visibly tensed before he said, “He suffered at Layla’s hands. Whatever she did to him, it won’t go away in days, or even weeks. It’s going to take time. But he’ll get there. As long as he knows he’s safe now, he’ll get there.”

  Stunned by the wisdom in those words, Cain almost didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t just Abel who’d changed.

  “She’ll come around, you know.” Adam’s lips pulled down, and Cain knew immediately whom he referred to. “The bond goes both ways, Cain. If she hadn’t felt it, it wouldn’t have worked.”

  Cain frowned, feeling as though he’d just been given a revelation. “Why didn’t you bond to Layla?”

  It’d been a question he’d often asked himself throughout his years. Cain had grown up seeing
the depth of devotion between the two of them. As unusual of a relationship as they’d had, he’d always understood that their feelings ran deep.

  Even after Layla’s accident, Adam hadn’t left.

  Lips thinning, Adam’s broad shoulders rose with his breath. “I tried once. It didn’t take.”

  His finger idly rubbed his jaw, the side of his face where the worst of Layla’s scars were.

  Cain knew he couldn’t let things continue on as they were. They lived in a massive cave system, and yet the place felt almost too crowded because of the tension that rolled between all of them.

  Every so often he’d catch a glimpse of Flint walking from Grace’s room to her own, an exotic shadow of light and dark, and the way she would look at him… with a guilty, furtive start. Like she was ashamed… it was a fist to his gut.

  Jerking to his feet, he slammed his fist down on the table. “I gotta go.”

  He was going to talk to her. One way or another. He was going to have this out, period.

  If she hated him now, then so be it. But she was going to have to tell him that to his face. No more hiding, no more pretending like the other didn’t exist.

  Without a backward glance, Cain walked toward Grace’s study.

  She’d taken a turn recently. About two days after Flint’s return, she’d suffered another massive stroke.

  Death visited her regularly, a solitary figure who walked through the halls like a whisper. Cain didn’t pretend to understand anything about Flint’s grandmother.

  The woman was still one giant enigma to him in many ways, but she was also a powerful ally.

  Turning down the hall, he paused when he heard hushed whispers coming from the library.

  Following the voices, he paused when he spied them—Grace, Flint, and Death—seated around the fireplace.

  Grace looked so frail now. Wrapped up in mounds of blankets, she was little more than a heap of bones covered in skin mottled with bluish-green veins. Her silvery hair was thin wisps that haloed around her face.

  Death, dressed in steel-gray slacks and a rolled-up button-down and white shirt—unusually casual for him—had his ankle crossed over his other leg and looked like a king bearing witness on his flock.

  But it was Flint who caused his pulse to stutter.

  Her hair was a wild crown of flame-red curls around her alien face. Neon-blue eyes dusted in starlight looked up at him, intuitively aware of his presence before he’d even said a word.

  The incandescent paleness of her flesh, aglow with diamond flecks and the viny markings he thought of as living tattoos, it took his breath away.

  Her hands stopped gesturing, hands that were tipped in claws that sported rosebuds on the tips.

  There was very little about her that looked human, or even reminded him of the girl he’d fallen in love with in high school. But he loved her more now.

  So much more.

  “Cain?” she asked in a deep, shiver-inducing voice that whispered across his flesh like hottest flame.

  The monster inside him stirred to life, recognizing the sound of its mate. Their mate.

  All three heads turned in his direction. He knew if they’d really had something to share, some news of what was coming, they would have. But it bothered him that they all pushed him away as they did. Like they were in on a secret he wasn’t privy to.

  Flint stood, her movements lithe and sensual though he knew she wasn’t aware of any of it.

  She moved like a thought, like a dance, like she was poetry in motion. He’d never felt more clumsy in his body than he did when he was near her.

  Her smile was soft, unsure, but it made him feel more alive than he’d felt in a long time.

  “We have to talk,” he whispered, curling his hands into fists.

  If she said no, he’d leave. He’d walk out of the cave and do something reckless, or stupid, he wasn’t sure what. But sitting in this place day after day, longing for her touch, her comfort, and yet racked with guilt for feeling that way because of the trauma she’d gone through, it was too much.

  He either needed her to open up now, or he needed a fight. Needed some way to burn off this poison eating him alive.

  She glanced at Dean and Grace, nibbled on her bottom lip, and that small gesture was so typical of his Flint that it almost brought him to his knees.

  “I’ll be back, okay,” she whispered.

  But she hadn’t said it to him, she’d said it to Grace. Her grandmother held out a veiny and liver-spotted hand to Flint, who kissed it tenderly before patting and setting it back on her grandmother’s lap.

  Looking up at him with those gorgeously alien eyes, Flint nodded. “Yeah, Cain, we do.”

  71

  Flint

  He’d taken her deep into the earth, and Flint knew she should hate being so deep, that it should have traumatized her and brought back memories of her and Abel’s ordeal in Aduaal.

  But she was comforted by the earth. Comforted by the feel of deep power so far below, power that flowed free of human interference.

  Down here she was healing, and she was finally ready to face the truth. A shameful, awful truth, but one Cain needed to know and hopefully would forgive her for.

  He’d taken her hand the moment she’d walked out of the library, and the old spark, the heat she’d felt whenever he was near, it blazed to life all over again.

  She loved him. Deeply. And always would. But she had secrets now, burdensome ones. Ones he wouldn’t understand, even if he knew she’d not been given a choice.

  It was hard to look him in the face knowing what she did. Knowing how hard he looked for answers to questions she’d learned weeks ago.

  It sucked and it killed her.

  He squeezed her fingers, walking in silence, his steps in tandem with hers. As though he feared she’d slip away from him again.

  Neither of them spoke until they reached the hidden grotto, an underground and natural water bath that hissed and fizzed with steam. Flint had hidden herself in here for a few weeks now, sinking beneath the warm waters when the memories of Idris began to consume her, when she was forced to remember the actions she’d had to take to free Abel from her own people’s clutches.

  Walking through the door was like walking through a forgotten Jurassic oasis, like they were locked in a different time, a different dimension where the rest of the world slipped away and was gone.

  Cain turned to her, his look one of intense concentration.

  Flint knew what he was thinking, knew he worried she didn’t love him anymore, didn’t need him anymore.

  But he was her partner, her compass. He’d been what she’d clung to during her darkest hours.

  His hands rested on her shoulders, and for a moment he didn’t move them. The comforting weight of his strong fingers made her want to melt into him, rest her cheek on his chest and listen to the strong beating of his heart to reassure herself that he was real.

  That all this was real. That she wasn’t still locked in Aduaal, dreaming about a life that could never be hers again, haunted by the memory of her past lover.

  Her only lover.

  But she was too scared. Too scared to close the gap between them. Bile tasted bitter on the back of her tongue.

  So she stood there and she prayed that he’d know how to reach her because she’d lost her way.

  Cain’s shoulders tensed, the room felt heavy with stress, and then he moved. His fingers ran toward the first button of her shirt, and undoing it slowly, he never blinked or strayed from her face. She swallowed hard.

  One button after another after another undone, until her shirt fluttered to the ground at their feet.

  He trembled and so did she, her eyes fixed to his like he was the big bad wolf ready to eat her up, but she didn’t care because he was her wolf.

  His palms brushed the tips of her breasts before slowly winding around her rib cage to the latch of her bra, and in a snap, that came off too. She shivered, but not from cold.

  The roo
m was warm and heated—no, the nerves came from the fact that he was literally baring her to him. Both physically and emotionally.

  Next his hands landed on her jeans; his thumb scraped her skin, breaking her out in a wash of goose bumps. The sound of her zipper being undone ricocheted like cannonfire in her ears.

  Dropping to his knees before her, he continued to look at her as he peeled her jeans off, and then his hands landed on her underwear.

  Flint couldn’t move. She was frozen by fear and indecision. Was this only about sex?

  Had he brought her down here because he wanted sex? If so, why did the thought of that make her want to cry?

  It wasn’t that she didn’t love him and hadn’t missed him. She had, tremendously. But she was in agony and confused, scared by what she’d had to do, what she might still have to do when the time came.

  Cain slipped her panties off. And then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and laid his cheek against the flat of her stomach and hugged her fiercely.

  No sounds were made. But his body shook. And in seconds she felt warmth flow from his eyes and onto her skin.

  He was crying.

  Lips tugging down, she finally understood. Maybe it was the bond, or maybe she just knew him, but Cain was terrified. Scared he’d lost her, not just in Aduaal, but period.

  “Stand up,” she ordered after several long minutes.

  He shuddered, strong shoulders bunching tight, and she heard him sniff but gave him his time to gather himself together before gently guiding him to his feet with a tender caress of his cheek.

  He stood before her, his eyes red-rimmed and his lashes wet, and Flint did to him as he’d done to her. She undressed him, tugging his shirt up and over his head, then taking off his leather belt. Urging him with a jerk of her chin to kick off his boots before then taking off his pants and finally his boxers.

  When they were both stripped down to nothing, she grabbed his hand and led him into the water, then took him toward one of the benches that’d been carved into the rock wall. She sat him down before straddling his legs and wrapping his arms around her back.