The Complete Tempted Series

by Selene Charles

  Her lips twitched. She loved him so much. What would he think if he knew what she was doing? Would he hate her?

  Touching the door, she wished with all her heart that she didn’t know what she did. That she could be as ignorant as they to the truth.

  With a sad shake of her head, she walked back into her kitchen, doling out giant servings of lentil soup and crusty bread for each of them.

  All homemade.

  Her father would be so proud.

  Eli came in a few moments later and sniffed appreciatively. “I’m so glad you can cook.”

  She smiled at him, and it was real. Eli would never be Idris, but in a lot of ways, he was a brother.

  Shoulder-bumping him, she snorted. “What’s the matter, was the food really that bad when I was gone?”

  Giving her wide crazy eyes, he shuddered. “You have no idea. Takeout almost every night, and the few times someone did try to cook something, it was mostly inedible.”

  Jerking her chin toward the table, she motioned that he could take the bowls of soup out into the dining room.

  “He keeps you hidden like you can’t take care of yourself.” Eli rubbed her shoulder.

  Planting her hands on the counter, Flint dropped her head. She was tired. Tired of all the secrets and lies. Tired of having to pretend like she was okay when she was anything but.

  “He loves me, Eli. I can’t blame him for that.”

  “Yeah, but you’re made of steel. I’ve never met anyone as strong as you, Flint.”

  “Coming from a berserker, that’s a compliment.”

  He didn’t move, just stood there like there was something more he wanted to say but wasn’t sure how.

  Eli was smart. Like genius-level smart. She wasn’t giving him any chance to piece the puzzle together. His loyalty was with Cain, and if any of them ever figured out the truth, the jig would be up.

  “You ever talk to Carlos?” she asked quietly, referring to the naga lover Eli had had back in the day.

  A touchy subject for him, and one he rarely opened himself up to. Except with her.

  Giving her a clipped nod, he picked up several bowls of soup. “Yeah. He’s good.”

  “Good.” She smiled sadly. “Then let’s make sure it stays that way, okay?”

  Flint wasn’t sure if Eli would catch the hidden meaning behind such a subtle hint, but he did. Lips turning down, he sighed.

  “Yeah, no prying. I get it.”

  “Good. Don’t ask me what I can’t tell you, Eli. Just know I love him. I love you all.”

  A muscle in his jaw tensed before he gave her a brief nod. “Better get the soup out there before it gets cold.”

  When he left, she breathed a sigh of relief. He’d leave her alone. Eli was inquisitive, but he’d respect her boundaries.

  Flint wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to keep these secrets to herself.

  The screeching of chairs being pulled out sounded as those inside the dining room settled down to eat her soup.

  Restless and desperate to escape this place, if only for a short while, she time-jumped.

  If there was one thing she was grateful for during her time in fae, it was that she now knew who she was and what she was truly capable of.

  When she walked out of the rift, she settled against the tree she always sat against whenever she came here.

  Dean wasn’t always such a jerk.

  Staring at the placid little pond that zipped with dragonflies upon its green, scummy surface, she smiled. Ahead was a tiny cottage with honest-to-God thatching for a roof.

  White mud bricks made up the front of the home. The lights were on inside. Her fingers twitched by her side when she saw the dark-haired man walk by. Grabbing the petite brunette sitting on the couch, he helped her to stand and began swaying in time with her, dancing to music only they could hear.

  His eyes were closed and he was smiling. He looked happy.

  She sniffed back a tear.

  Dean was suddenly standing beside her, staring at the same scene she was.

  “They look so happy,” she whispered.

  Sitting down beside her, he nodded. “It’s because they are. Your father’s finally at peace, halfling. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

  Maybe because of all the secrets, or maybe because deep down Death really was a softie, he’d finally shown her where he’d hidden her father. And though it might have been nothing more than an olive branch offered to assuage his guilt for using her so terribly, Flint was grateful nonetheless.

  Choking on the tears in her throat, it was tough to speak at first. It wasn’t that she didn’t love seeing her father happy. Because she did.

  “He does miss you, you know.” Death eased his shoulder against hers as though in solidarity.

  She shook her head, slapping her palms against her cheeks to mop up the stupid tears leaking out of her eyes. “Yeah, well, whatever. That’s great.”

  He snorted. “You humans are so pitiful, you know that? Pretending you don’t care when you care too much.”

  “I’m only half,” she snarled. “And stop reading my thoughts. It’s really freaking irritating.”

  He held up his hands. “Whatever you say, princess.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And for the record. I am happy he’s happy, it’s just…” She swallowed. “I dunno.”

  Snapping the head off a dandelion, she glanced down at her feet. Vines were curling out from them. Her moods were so easy to read thanks to those stupid plants.

  “You come here and he doesn’t ever seem sad.” Dean finished her thought, and coming from him, it was mortifying.

  Cheeks blazing scarlet, she rushed on to say, “It’s not that I want him miserable. But his life is so perfect now, and I just don’t feel like I’m a part of it anymore.”

  “Not now. But that’s to keep him safe, not because he doesn’t want you, Flint. You’re smart. You know this.”

  His words were so sensible that she couldn’t argue them. Giving a miserable chuckle, she shrugged a shoulder. “Oh God, I am pathetic.”

  “Well, I said pitiful, not pathetic, but yes, I’ll agree with that assessment.”

  She drilled him with a hard look. “You really suck at cheering a girl up.”

  His laughter was deep and robust. “Funny, Pandora always says the same thing to me. I think I’m wonderful—you ladies just don’t realize it yet.”

  Flint couldn’t help but smile, but the humor soon fled. “Why are you keeping Grace alive still? What’s going on, Dean?”

  Leaning back on his hands, he continued to stare through her father’s windows.

  It was really freaky to think about the fact that the man responsible for ending all life literally sat not a foot from her. If she thought about it too long, it sort of made her feel halfway crazy.

  From the time she’d moved to Whispering Bluff to now, her life had taken a complete one-eighty. Flint could never have seen any of this coming, could never have imagined a world in which monsters weren’t just in the pages of her mother’s fairy tales. Where she’d even learn she was one herself.

  “Because she’s keeping a secret from me.”

  Well, that was news.

  Lifting a brow, she studied Death, and he seemed none too happy with that revelation.

  “Are you telling me that you, a mind reader, can’t figure out what my tiny, puny little grandmother is up to? I find that hard to believe.”

  “Never assume that Grace is powerless, Flint.”

  She shivered. She couldn’t remember a time that Dean had actually called her by her God-given name.

  “She might be human, but she is a mighty force. And until I learn what she’s hiding from me, I’ll keep her as she is.”

  Those words sent an ominous chill down her spine, making her shiver.

  Of all the monsters she’d ever met, Dean was probably the scariest. At first she’d thought it was the elementals until she learned just how devious, crafty, and cold Death tr
uly was.

  He sighed. “Dammit, Pandora.” Turning to look at her confused expression because Pandora was nowhere around, he said, “Seems my gorgeous protégé has made mincemeat of your men. You might want to get home and tend to the wounded, halfling.”

  When she got back to the cave, it was to find not only Cain on his back, but Abel and Adam too.

  “What the eff happened here?” she asked, walking through the dining room, staring at the destruction of Grace’s favorite china.

  Abel cringed. “It was Nephilim versus berserker, and Pandora won.”

  Adam groaned, rising to an upright position. “Speak for yourself, whelp.”

  But there was a definite shiny, purple bruise starting to form around his eye.

  Cain was clutching his pants, giving Flint a “God help me” look, and it was hard not to laugh. Crotch kicks hurt, but they wouldn’t kill.

  Walking over to him, she tossed his arm across her shoulder and helped him to stand. “And where’s the she-beast now?”

  “Probably in the baths,” he whispered.

  “Well c’mon, you babies.” She looked over her shoulder at the other two who still hadn’t stood.

  They glowered and Abel hissed, “You’re not the one who just got steamrolled by a Mack truck, so no talkie from you, okay?”

  Sticking out her tongue, she figured if the worst injury was wounded pride, then they’d made out pretty easy this time around.

  Knowing what she did of Pandora, and how many demons possessed her now (possibly over a hundred at Dean’s count), they were lucky to have walked away from this unscathed.

  74

  Flint

  Time had passed since that last visit. And the signs of the end were everywhere.

  The other day an entire flock of birds, at least fifty strong, suddenly dropped from the sky dead.

  The shifters who’d been content to hide out in the mountain range were now almost at their doors. Flint and the others had to take shifts killing them off one by one. Keeping their whereabouts a secret much longer seemed impossible.

  In fact, she was coming in from a scouting trip now and rubbing her sore and abraded wrist. A shifter had snuck up on her while she’d been fending off two others.

  Cain grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. “You did great out there.”

  She shrugged. “I’m tired and dirty and pissed. That cougar shouldn’t have gotten the drop on me like that.”

  He grinned. “You were amazing.”

  His eyes sparkled with deep shades of red, the berserker inside him still riding him hard. Patting his broad chest, she leaned up on tiptoe and nuzzled his neck.

  “Let me go clean up, check up on Grace, and then maybe we can…” She deliberately let the sentence trail off and waggled her eyebrows.

  Cain growled, clamping his palm to her butt and squeezing. “Why wait?”

  Her thighs tingled as she imagined all the wicked things he’d do to her.

  Abel, Janet, and Rhi walked past them. It was their turn to take the next shift.

  Cain glanced up. “There’s a huge pack of them up on the ridgeline. We cleared out at least fifty, but who knows how many more there are—they breed like freaking rabbits.”

  Janet ripped off her bracelet, shifting instantly into a killing shadow. Her eyes glowed with flame. “No worriesss. We got thisss,” she said, her words sibilant when in that form.

  Rhiannon, looking like some Valkyrie warrior, unclasped her necklace and set it down on a counter. Her body then trembled violently as it shifted from corporeal form to shadow just like her sister’s.

  “Oh, yesss we do.” She laughed, and the sound shivered down Flint’s spine. It was full of heat and fire and flame.

  These quick skirmishes didn’t do much to quell the rising thrum of bloodlust in the group. Everyone was on pins and needles; times were bad and only getting worse.

  It wasn’t a matter of if but when the final call came to do battle.

  Pandora’s visit had cemented one thing for them all. She’d asked them to come and stand beside her and the Priest as they fought to bring down the gates of Hell, and Adam had agreed.

  But Flint knew what the rest of them didn’t. No matter how willing Pandora was to make things right, she was eventually going to lose her soul to the darkness. And agreeing to fight by her side meant that at some point one of them might very well have to be the one to take her down if Dean couldn’t.

  That thought was depressing as hell and killed off any lustful thoughts still lingering. Stepping out of Cain’s arms, she shrugged at his confused look and said, “I stink. Good luck, guys.”

  Abel grinned. “Thanks, Flintlock.”

  Then all three of them turned and ran out. Flint whirled about before Cain could stop her, heading for the shower, but then made a quick detour at the last minute to Grace’s room. She figured Cain would probably try to get smart and cut her off in the bathroom, demanding she spill the beans.

  And that was exactly what she wanted to do. The silence was killing her, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold her tongue.

  She was going to have a chat with her grandmother that was long overdue.

  Grace was in bed now. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t sleeping.

  The past few days had seen her grandmother take a turn for the worse again. No longer was she as vivacious as she’d been.

  She seemed tired and her breathing was erratic, rattly. The sound made Flint’s throat catch.

  The end was near for her grandmother too.

  Dean had promised he wouldn’t take her until he knew, but whatever secret she kept, she didn’t seem to want to share it.

  “Grams?” Flint said softly.

  Grace’s eyes fluttered open, but her movements were lethargic and painful to watch.

  “Well, I’m dying, lass. So ye can stop looking at me like you can hang on—you can’t. So move on.”

  She bit her lip. Even as weak as she was, the woman still had the tongue of an adder. “How can you say that to me? I love you. Of course I don’t want you to die.”

  “Och, darling.” She smiled weakly. “Every day since the stroke has been a gift. I should have been six feet under long ago, and ye know that well.”

  Sitting beside her grandmother’s bed, Flint grasped her frail hand. It was cool to the touch. Death breathed heavily down Grace’s neck.

  “He said he wouldn’t let you go till he learned your secret.”

  Flint had never really known how to broach that subject with Grace, unsure how to start the conversation.

  Oh, hey Grams, Death thinks you’re hiding something. What is it? Yeah right, that would have gone over well.

  But now, with her grandmother’s life so close to over, Flint knew time had run out to try to be diplomatic about it.

  Her smile trembled. “That old goat would love to know, wouldn’t he? But I’ll tell you, lassie.”

  Flint frowned as her grandmother rubbed her thumb gently across her sensitive wrist. “Seriously?”

  Grace nodded. “Aye. I know Pandora’s full plan. A plan no one else can know. Not even Death himself.”

  Shock must have stamped itself across her forehead, because her grandmother’s weak laugh—like sandpaper rubbing against sandpaper—was startling and hard to hear.

  “You want to know why I forced you to secrecy as I did, Flinty? It was for this reason alone. Because I know what Dean does not, can you imagine? Me, a human, one-upping Death.”

  She gave a soft wuffling laugh, like she was highly pleased with herself, and Flint’s heart squeezed. She was going to miss her grandmother like crazy.

  Dean had been right; the batty old woman was so much more than what she seemed.

  “What do you know?”

  “That if you go and tell Pandora what I’m about to tell you now, he won’t need to kill her and we’ll win this fight.”

  She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Pandora needs to kill
one more Nephilim, to give that soul over to Luc. And Luc must kill the other.”

  “What?” She was so confused; this went so far beyond what she thought she’d known. “What do you mean, kill a Nephilim, and what does Luc have to do with this? I thought he was Dean’s stag?”

  Grace tsk-tsked, swatting a hand through the air, showing more strength than she’d shown in a long, long time.

  “None of that is your concern. I merely tell you this—she’s been betrayed. There are two within her ranks that are deceivers. I learned of them from reading my books and speaking with Adam. He never sent them to her—do you understand, my love? They are Triad plants. Cash and Keltsie. She kills them, and we actually stand a chance at winning.”

  She shook her head. All this was Greek to her. “But I don’t understand.”

  “Flint!” She lifted her voice, and though it wasn’t loud, it was stern. “Time runs out, do you not understand? Soon this entire mountain range will be overrun by Triad lackeys. And level-ten witch enchantment or not, the sheer number of them will be enough to overtake us. None of us will last through another month of this. The end isn’t just near, it is now. And you must go—you must go right now and find Pandora and tell her what she needs to do.”

  She shook her head, more confused than ever. “And when I get back, can I tell Cain about this? About all this?”

  Yanking her hand out of Flint’s grasp, Grace rubbed her thumb across Flint’s cheek. “You won’t have to, because it will all be evident then. Find Pandora and then get to hills. You know the ones—I showed them to you on the map.”

  She nodded, remembering the geography lesson well. Grace had shown her exactly where the portal to the gates of Hell would be opened.

  Grace smiled. “I’m so proud of you, my little half-breed. You’ve truly become the child of my heart. Your mother would have been so proud too.”

  Flint’s chin wobbled. That’d felt a lot like good-bye.

  “Call her with blood, Flint. Now go, and don’t delay another second.”

  When Flint stood, she saw Dean standing in the corner.

  Grace laughed, noticing Death as well. “You’re too late, Dean. You’ll not learn this secret from me.”