The Complete Tempted Series

by Selene Charles

  “Call us amoebas? Yeah, I think so.” Cain glanced down at his red shirt, now stained a dark mustard brown in the front. “I think I’m going to need a bath again.”

  Nibbling on the corner of her lip, Flint nodded. “Last one there’s a—”

  Cain didn’t bother waiting for her to finish that sentence. Grabbing her hand, he yanked her behind him and soon they were starting right back up where they’d left off.

  By the time they’d finally gotten their libido halfway under control, two hours had passed and now they were seriously hungry.

  Showered, and changed, Flint walked back into the kitchen. “You know, I’m starving.” She nodded slowly, as though coming to a revelation.

  It was so cute; he couldn’t help but come up behind her and hug her fiercely.

  “How did I get to be so lucky?”

  She giggled. Her hair smelled of roses and was still slightly damp. It tickled the tip of his nose. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she sighed. “I know, right? My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.”

  He pinched her delectable rear. “Don’t forget this belongs to me. Anyone else even thinks about milking this shake and I’ll rip their balls off.”

  She snorted. “I just love it when you go all psycho. But seriously, Cain, I’m starving. And since you seem to have no plans but to grope me all night, which (a) I totes love, but (b) I’m so hungry I’m half tempted to eat my own arm, I think I’m gonna have to shove your sexy bod out of my kitchen for now so that I can start cooking.”

  “You cook?” He frowned. It had never occurred to him that she could. In the entire time they’d dated, he’d never once seen her in the kitchen, and when she’d eaten at the circus it’d always been takeout.

  Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him. “Because I love you, I won’t slap your face for such an insult. I may look like a sexy freak, darling, but I am half-Italian, capiche?” She mock punched his shoulder.

  “Ow.” He rubbed at it, pretending like she’d really hurt him, though in truth there’d been a fair bit of zip behind that one. Flint was much stronger than he remembered.

  Tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, he gently rubbed the shell with his thumb, delighting in the small quiver that ran through her.

  “Your lips say no, but your body says yes,” he teased, ready for round three.

  “Oh my God.” She rolled her eyes theatrically. “My boyfriend so did not go there. Get out of my kitchen with you, beast.” She pointed at the door with a stern set of her lips.

  “Baby.” He held out his hands, moving into her body and bumping her hips with his. He knew he had her the moment she started snorting.

  Cutest sound ever.

  Well, anything was cute when she did it.

  “Get out!” She stomped her dainty foot. And then in a move that surprised him, one of her veins whipped out, latched onto the crook of his elbow, and spun him around, forcibly shoving him toward the door.

  “So that’s how it’s gonna be. But I thought you loved me, Flinty. I’m dying here. C’mon, baby.”

  And though she was now laughing so hard there were tears streaming from her eyes, she wouldn’t be swayed.

  Shoving his hands against the doorframe, he glanced over his shoulder. “You’re harsh, babe. Just putting it out there.”

  “Yeah, and you have a sexy ass, but you’re still getting out of my kitchen.”

  Then with a shove of thorns and vines, he was very unceremoniously thrown out.

  Cain laughed.

  It was good to have her home, helped him to forget for a moment the hell they currently lived in.

  “And for the record”—he cupped his hands around his mouth—“I’m your mate, not your boyfriend.”

  Tying an apron around her petite waist, she pursed her lips. “Not if you keep on pestering me.”

  Widening his eyes, he held up his palms in a gesture of surrender. “You drive a hard bargain, sexy, but okay. You win.” He took two steps before muttering, “For now.”

  “What was that, dear?” she called.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he gave her wide, innocent eyes. “Nothing, babe.”

  She snorted. “Go away, you.”

  Which was just her way of saying I love you.

  He smiled all the way into the dining room until he finally spotted Abel. He came up short, the stupid grin on his face fading.

  “Abel?” Frowning, he worked his way over toward the dining room table, pulling out a chair across from his brother.

  Abel had his head in his hands and was staring at the table with a mile-long glare.

  Not sure whether to get up and give his brother his privacy or wait it out and see if Abel would finally talk with him, Cain decided to wait. What had happened between him and Flint had helped him to realize that sometimes giving someone space was good, but sometimes refusing to walk away was even better.

  “Look, dude, I’m not leaving. So either talk or we’re both going to sit here in silence and—”

  Tears trekked silently down his brother’s face when he finally turned his brown eyes up. Struck dumb, Cain could only swallow helplessly, wishing he had Janet or Flint here to help talk his brother through this.

  “Why’d she do it, man?”

  Abel was wearing the same shirt he’d worn for the past week. It was sweat stained and smelled, even from where Cain sat. His hair looked unwashed, as though he’d not touched it in days.

  Sniffing, Cain sat forward, running fingers through his own hair, and shrugged. “I wish I could say I knew the way Layla’s head worked. But I don’t.”

  Jaw clenching, Abel bit the words out. “She smiled dead in my face, dude. Looked me right in the eye and laughed as she stabbed me with needles. As she told me the most—”

  His breath caught, and Abel turned his face to the side. His body shook with violent tremors as the pain of his torments finally came out in a flood.

  Jerking to his feet, Cain rushed to his brother’s side and wrapped him up in a tight hug. “I’m here, man,” he whispered, pounding that truth with a fist into his brother’s back.

  Sobs that sounded more like the wail of a wounded animal spilled out of Abel’s throat, and all Cain could do was hold on and pray to God it was enough.

  The heavy aromatic punch of rosemary and thyme sailed from the kitchen door as it was tossed open, and then Flint was rushing out, slamming like a ten-ton weight into them and driving them all to the floor.

  She had her arms around both their necks, her tears joining Abel’s and Cain’s.

  And then there were more arms.

  Adam’s. Eli’s. Seth’s. Rhiannon’s. And finally a slim pair of Asian arms slid around Abel’s waist and Janet, who’d been silent for so long now, said, “We all love you, Abel. You’re not alone. You’re never going to be alone again.”

  And Abel’s friends, Abel’s family… they all hugged him tight, letting him know he was safe. He would always be safe with them.

  And Cain knew then Layla had made a huge mistake in not killing him when she’d had the chance, because now he would stop at nothing to make sure his family never suffered this sort of tragedy again.

  “We’re gonna fix this, Abel. I swear.” He whispered the oath, but it was Flint who heard him.

  Turning her cheek, she stared deep into his eyes, her own full of love and unspoken promises.

  Her smile spoke of retribution sealed in a vow.

  Bit by bit, the tangle of limbs slowly unpeeled as one after another got up and went back to what they’d been doing.

  Flint squeezed Cain’s shoulders, helping him to stand. Then going on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “Love you, beast.”

  Eli and Seth followed soon after, then Rhi, all of them returning to the library and their stacks of books.

  Adam gave a guttural grunt, punched Abel’s arm (which was as good as a verbal “I love you”) before returning back to whatever he’d been doing earlier.

  Until only Janet and Abel remaine
d.

  Knowing those two had a lot of things to talk through, Cain decided to give them some time alone and turned for the kitchen.

  In their own way, they were all broken, but they would heal and be stronger for it.

  They just needed time, if only they could have it.

  73

  Cain

  Two more months had passed since that day. And life was getting back to some sort of normal.

  Abel was back, laughing and talking and coming daily out of his shell. Janet was also back, and every so often Cain would catch a longing glimpse pass between the two of them that let him know things were going in the right direction between them.

  Flint grew stronger, if that was even possible. She was his favorite sparring partner—didn’t hurt that after a heated battle things often progressed to their bed.

  But she was keeping something from him. The easy relationship they’d shared after the day at the baths had slipped away somehow. It wasn’t that she didn’t welcome her into her bed or fail to show how much she loved him.

  But there were secrets again. He saw it in the shadows that played through her expressive eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking. It worried Cain that she wouldn’t talk to him about it, but it was becoming easy to believe that it had everything to do with the war headed their way and nothing else.

  And though that thought was reasonable enough, deep down he didn’t buy it. He’d be lying though if he said he was strong enough to confront this new demon. A part of him worried that whatever he found out wouldn’t be good at all.

  So he bit his tongue and pretended just like she did that all was right with their world.

  Grace even seemed miraculously healed. There was still a droop to her face, but it was slight and difficult to notice unless you knew where to look.

  Life would be perfect.

  Except that outside their tiny oasis, rumors grew. Darkness closed in on them, and everywhere they looked, the signs of a stronger Triad were evident.

  More and more shifters were slowly converging in the mountains they hid in with each passing day, shifters whose loyalty obviously belonged to their demon master. Cain had even heard rumors of them wiping out an entire town not too far from where they were.

  He, Eli, and Seth didn’t need to spar anymore to keep battle ready. All they had to do was step a few miles outside their door to find the fight had come to them.

  Nothing led them to Layla still, but Cain also knew that was just a matter of time.

  This calm was nothing but a mirage that would blow away with the slightest of breezes.

  He was just about to go see if Flint needed help cooking dinner when the cave shook like an earthquake had just ripped through it.

  Cain ran to the kitchen to find Flint stood looking around in a daze. She was barefoot, her ruby hair pinned high on her head, wearing shorts and a white cami that showed off her living tattoo. Smudges of flour were on her nose and cheeks, and his heart squeezed.

  This woman meant more to him than his own life.

  “Cain?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Don’t panic. It just means we’re about to get visitors.”

  Her eyes widened and her radiant skin turned pale. “Who?”

  Adam came rushing through the door a second later. “Spotted a bogey headed our way,” he said briskly.

  “Who?” Cain asked in mimic of her.

  “Two black streaks.”

  Cain didn’t need to see the footage to know who it was. They’d been waiting on her to find them for some time now. From the snatches of conversation he’d overhead between Adam and their sister carnival, theirs wasn’t the only family in tatters.

  Luc’s band had disbanded. With Pandora gone, they were now led by Bubba, one of their glutton Neph, and Dora’s own priest.

  And if that wasn’t a sign of end-times, Cain wasn’t sure what was.

  “It’s gotta be my aunt and her mate,” he muttered.

  Flint gasped. “Pandora and her priest?”

  Gnashing his front teeth together, Adam nodded. “Pretty sure you’re right. C’mon. Let’s go out there and meet them. If they’re here, it can’t be for anything good.”

  Cain nodded, then turned back to look at Flint. “You stay here, you hear me? Whatever my aunt’s messed up in, I don’t want you anywhere near it, princess.”

  She glowered. “Cain, I can take care of myself.”

  He knew she was reminding him of her time in Aduaal, and he nodded. “I know. Believe me, I know. But let me take care of you, just for right now. I have to know you’re safe.”

  “And you think your aunt’s not safe?”

  Knowing what he did about end-time prophecy and about the demons that infected Pandora right now, he wasn’t taking any chances.

  “I thought I almost lost you. I can’t… I won’t go through that—”

  Walking up to him, she planted her finger against his lips, stalling his train of thought. “Then I’ll stay in here like the good little cook I am. But you have to promise me one thing too.”

  He nipped her finger. “Anything.”

  “You stay safe too.”

  His lips twitched. “Always, princess.”

  He felt the red glow of his eyes as the berserker inside him flared to life for just a minute. Cain didn’t know how he knew, but he sensed deep in his bones that the calm before the storm was coming to a swift end.

  Flint

  * * *

  Rubbing her hands down on a towel, Flint ran toward Grace’s room. She didn’t even bother knocking, simply let herself in, only to find Dean settling Grace gently into her wheelchair.

  Straightening, he placed a finger to his lips, telling her silently to keep his presence a secret.

  Nodding, Flint flicked a glance toward her grandmother.

  With a deep bow toward Grace, Dean vanished.

  Flint thinned her lips.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Grace said without preamble.

  “I’m sure you do,” she muttered.

  Cain had questions. He’d sensed for months now that her grandmother and Death were in cahoots somehow, and he’d been absolutely right.

  Death could see the future. But futures weren’t an exact science. They were a lot like falling dominoes. Knock one down and the chain reaction would follow a set, orderly path unless an obstruction had been set in the way. Then things changed.

  Everything changed.

  Keeping quiet was about making sure nothing changed.

  “Pandora’s here,” she finally said.

  Grace patted her hair into place. “I know. We’ve been expecting her. I know this is hard for you, Flint—”

  She shook her head. “You have no idea how hard this is for me. How much I want to tell him.”

  Her eyes widened and she growled, “You can’t. And you know that. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Practice your fighting, get stronger. The end comes sooner than you know, my love, and I won’t… I can’t be…”

  Flint shook her head. She understood her grandmother wasn’t long for this world. The only reason she was still alive was because Dean wouldn’t let her go.

  Grace sighed. “This is a precarious game, love.”

  “Now you sound like him.” Meaning Death. He loved to talk in riddles, to compare Armageddon to some chess game.

  Like that’s all it was.

  This was everything to Flint. Her world. Her life. Their lives. All their lives. This was so much more than a game.

  “Maybe because he’s wise, Flint. Maybe because you have to make things slightly absurd just to make sure you don’t crack beneath the strain of it all. Your work and mine is not yet done. Until it is, you can say nothing to him.”

  Shoulders slumping, she nodded. “I know. But you know how dangerous Pandora is now. He won’t let me in there to help them in case things go south. It’s just… I can’t—”

  Grace nodded. “I know, lass. But I also now Dora. I trust in her.”


  She grimaced. “How can you say that? Even knowing what she’s turning into? That she’s becoming the embodiment of all evil itself. That she’s the one fated to open the gates of Hell?”

  Grace was silent for several long seconds before saying, “Because I’ve known her almost my whole life, and while my life and that of those like you will never be equal, there is one thing I do know, Flint. And that is truth. A person’s real truth, even in the face of unrelenting trials. I know Pandora won’t give in. But for now that is neither here nor there.”

  Flint opened her mouth, ready to keep up the argument, but Grace placed a finger to her lips.

  “Good.” She smiled like Flint had actually said something. “Now that we understand each other, get back to the kitchen before Cain finds you here. I’m sure someone will come by to wheel me out in a moment.”

  Knowing her grandmother as she now did, Flint knew this particular conversation was over. Stomping her foot might have felt good, but ultimately wouldn’t help her cause. Shaking her head and sighing deeply, Flint turned on her heel and took the long way back to the kitchen. Passing the dining room, she heard them all talking.

  Pandora, the aunt who was at the heart of all this, the Priest who shouldn’t be trusted and yet no one had a choice but to do so, and the men she now called family were all gathered inside one room.

  It was like a bad joke missing its punch line.

  Leaning her head against the doorframe, Flint wished she could tell them what she knew. She knew almost everything.

  Pandora, Cain’s favorite aunt, was going to die. And by Death’s hand. Cain had spoken now and again about the rebirth of “Sin.” Not metaphorically, but physically. The embodiment of all the world’s evil in one body, one person.

  What he didn’t know was that Sin would come through a host.

  His aunt.

  In this cave was the woman who’d end the whole of mankind, and Flint could do nothing about it.

  For months she’d been angry about the epiphany, but now there was no more anger, only a sad resolve to see this come to an end as quickly as possible.

  Cain was talking now, saying something about Flint.