Incipient: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Marked Book 6)

by Bianca Scardoni

I didn’t need a mirror to know I was blushing. “Give me a break, Trace,” I said, trying to snap some sense into him while also simmering down the ache that was starting to grow in me. “I’m a total mess right now.” I popped up from the bed and rushed over to grab the duffel bag I’d left by the dresser.

  Another beat of silence followed by the strange sensation that his eyes were still trained on me. I chanced another glance at him and confirmed my suspicion.

  The air suddenly felt heavy with unfinished business and almost kisses that never were.

  “You want to take a picture?” I asked teasingly as I dug out a change of clothes. “It’ll last you much longer.”

  “Nah,” he said as his gaze travelled down the length of my body, slow and appreciating. “I prefer the real thing.”

  My cheeks flushed with heat. “I thought you said you were planning on staying away from me?”

  “That’s not what I said,” he reminded, his arms still folded across his broad chest. “You’re the one that’s confused about us, Jemma. Not me. I’m just trying to give you time to figure out what you really want.”

  My heart sank to my feet because confusion wasn’t the problem I was facing. My problem was I was in love with two different men in two completely different ways and no amount of space in the world could undo that.

  “How about that food?” I asked sheepishly, changing the subject as I tossed my change of clothes on the bed.

  Trace’s dimples pressed in as he continued to watch me, his face impassive. “What are you in the mood for?”

  “What are my options?”

  He laughed huskily. “Literally anything in the world.”

  I flattened my palms on my hips and fixed him with a look. “Oh, you’re going to port us to Greece for some Greek food, are you?”

  He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I will if you want Greek food,” he answered, completely serious.

  Dang. He wasn’t even kidding, and with his ability to teleport himself anywhere in the world (and beyond), he could totally do it. “I think we’ve had enough adventure for one day. How about we just keep it simple and order some pizza?”

  “If that’s what you want,” he said as he pushed off the desk and made his way over to me. All the light in the room felt as though it were moving with him—competing for a chance to illuminate him. “Is that what you want?” he asked, way too seductively for something that had nothing to do with sex.

  I mean, at least I didn’t think it had anything to do with sex. Of course, it didn’t have anything to do with sex! We were talking about food, not sex, for crying out loud. Oh, my god, stop thinking about sex!

  “Jemma?” Trace prompted when I stood there like a total doorknob.

  “Yup, pizza’s what I want. Let’s do pizza. I mean, totally, let’s…order that pizza.” I inwardly cringed, wishing with every cell in my body that the accent rug would jump up from the ground and ram itself into my mouth.

  “Pizza it is.”

  “Yes. Great. Pizza.” Kill me now.

  His brows knitted as he examined me. “You okay?” he asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

  Nope. Not at all. “Yeah, totally.”

  “Okay…”

  “Just really excited for that…pizza.” No seriously, someone please shoot me dead.

  “Alright.” He laughed as he pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll order the pizza and meet you downstairs.”

  “Awesome. Sounds like a plan,” I said and then watched as he left the room, quietly closing the door behind himself.

  As soon as the coast was clear, I buried my cherry-red face in my hands and then openly cringed at myself for the next three and a half minutes.

  After taking a quick shower in the guest bathroom, I wrapped the plush terrycloth towel around myself and made my way to the vanity. Wiping my hand across the steamed mirror, I looked up and sighed at the reflection staring back at me.

  I looked like roadkill.

  No, scratch that. Wet roadkill.

  My eyes appeared sunken and tired, and my skin looked like it hadn’t seen the sun in years, a consequence of the perpetual overcast bestowed upon Hollow Hills. And then there was my hair. My once beautiful, shiny hair had seen much better days, and much better conditioning masks. The ends looked fried and in desperate need of a trim.

  Unfortunately, my life wasn’t conducive to beauty salon visits and pampering sessions anymore, and without Taylor there to crack the whip, I was barely managing to keep a non-expired tube of mascara around.

  Feeling dejected, I picked up my wet brush and ran it through my long dark hair, doing my best to get out the tangles before pulling it back into a high ponytail. It was as good as it was going to get so there was no point in dwelling on my subpar appearance. And lucky for me that I was too hungry to care anyway.

  The only thing I wanted to do was stuff my face full of pizza and then snuggle myself back into Trace’s arms.

  Obviously, I was going to skip that last part, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t what I wanted to do.

  “Pizza should be here in ten minutes,” said Trace as I walked into the living room several minutes later. He had been lounging on the sectional, looking at something on his phone when his eyes flicked up to mine.

  And then they stayed there.

  I wasn’t sure what he was seeing but judging by the heated look in his eyes it certainly wasn’t the wet roadkill that I’d seen in the mirror just moments before. That was the thing about boys in love. They seemed to see you with rose colored glasses no matter how low you were currently setting the bar for yourself.

  I rolled my eyes at him and then took a seat on the couch beside him, still making sure to keep a good two feet between us. I’d gotten very used to being close to him while keeping a reasonable distance. It was a delicate balance, but I was on the verge of perfecting it.

  “Feeling better?” he asked as he placed his phone down on the coffee table and then shifted his body toward me, giving me his full attention as he draped his arm along the back of the sofa.

  “Much better.” I tucked my legs up beside me and settled in. “It feels good not be in pain anymore. For a minute there, I was worried I was going to have to move into Ben’s cellar,” I said, only half-joking.

  “I’m sure Ben would’ve loved that. His own personal dungeon barbie.”

  “Right? Hours upon hours of torture via X-files reruns. I can totally see it now.”

  Trace laughed. “You know him well.”

  “All joking aside though, I’m super grateful for his help. And yours. And Gabriel’s,” I quickly added, realizing how many people had come through for me tonight. The whole thing could’ve gone completely sideways, or worse, I could’ve ended up walking directly into the lion’s den with my pants down. My friends had really come through for me tonight, and I only wished I could’ve been there to see Dominic’s face when he realized I wasn’t showing up.

  I was going to have to find a way to repay each and every one of them—especially Gabriel.

  My stomach clenched as I thought about him. “I really hope he’s okay.”

  “Gabriel?”

  I nodded. “He broke his lifelong streak for me. I can’t imagine what he’s feeling right now.” The more I imagined it, the worse I felt about myself. “I should’ve found someone else. I should have never asked him to do this—”

  “He’s the one that offered,” interjected Trace, trying to squash my mounting guilt. “Besides, did you know another Revenant Descendant you could trust to do this?”

  “I used to,” I whispered, feeling as though that were a lifetime ago. A lifetime ago, Dominic would have been the one to come to my rescue. He would’ve put his life on the line for mine, no questions asked.

  Now he was the one putting me in danger—playing games with my life like I was nothing more than a pet for him to amuse himself with. The realization depressed me.

  “Were you serious about what you said earlier?” he asked, his
eyes pensive and curious. “About incapacitating him until you figure out what to do about him?”

  “Why? Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

  “Not at all.” His jaw muscle flexed as he studied me. “I think it’s probably the best way to keep you safe right now.”

  I made a face letting him know I didn’t appreciate his choice of words.

  “I know you don’t need protecting. That’s not what I meant,” he quickly explained. “But right now, Dominic is a liability for you and with everything going on, it’s the last thing you need.”

  “True.” I could hardly focus on what was going down with the Horsemen and Nikki or keep an eye on Trace’s mental state while looking over my shoulder at every turn. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that putting Dominic down temporarily was the best thing for everyone involved, including himself.

  He couldn’t be left to his own device—not in the state he was in, and I had too much going on to babysit him. As it stood, I already had no idea about the body count he and Priscilla were leaving in their wake. But I could imagine…

  “It’s not going to be easy,” I said, mostly to myself though. “He’s got his Sire beside him and I’m pretty sure she’ll defend him just as quickly as he would her.” The burn in my chest moved from my heart to my stomach. I hated thinking of them together, which was why I avoided doing it as much as possible.

  “So, we divide and conquer,” he answered plainly. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “We?” I looked over at him and shook my head. “I’m not involving you in this.”

  Trace chuckled darkly. “Take a look around, Jemma. I’m already involved.”

  “Okay, well, I’m not involving you any more than you already are,” I amended, catching his stare and holding it.

  “Are we really going to do this again?” he asked, sounding bored. “You know that if things go south, you’re going to need a quick exit and who better than a Reaper? Come on, Jemma, give me some credit.”

  Well, I couldn’t argue that point. But still, I needed to think long and hard about how I was going to go about this and who I was going to involve. The slightest misstep and Dominic would see me coming from a mile away and that was the last thing I needed. If he even suspected I was coming for him…I shivered just thinking about what he’d do to me and the pleasure he’d take from doing it.

  The doorbell rang, interrupting our conversation and not a moment too soon. Trace stood up, grabbing his wallet off the table before shuffling out of the living room. I grabbed the remote control from the coffee table and flipped through the channels looking for something interesting to watch before settling on a horror movie. Seemed fitting with Halloween right around the corner and all.

  “Nice,” said Trace when he walked back into the room with a large pizza box in hand. “Part two is my favorite.” He tossed the pizza box on the coffee table and then sat down.

  “Smells like heaven,” I said as I watched him open the box and spin it toward me. I quickly grabbed a slice and curled back on the couch with it like a squirrel that just scored its winter meal.

  Trace grabbed a slice and folded it in half before flopping back on the couch beside me—slightly closer this time. I tried not to pay attention to the fact that his forearm was touching my leg or how nice it felt to be close like this, just eating pizza and watching a scary movie like normal people do.

  For the first time in a really long time, I felt content. Possibly even…happy.

  “You gotta watch this part,” he said, bouncing a quick glance at me. “It’s the best scene in the whole movie.”

  I smiled as I tried to focus on the scene playing out before me. My attention, however, kept returning to Trace and the way his dimples deepened when he took a bite of his pizza. The way his ebony hair picked up the light from the screen, making it look almost blue-black. The way his arm rested comfortably against my leg as though we’d always been this close. As though there were no other way for the two of us to be.

  Frankly, it was damn near impossible to pay attention to the movie.

  The doorbell rang again, pulling me out of my stare-fest.

  Trace looked over at me with his eyebrows pulled together. “Are you expecting someone?” he asked, his eyes on the hallway now as his jaw hardened into a line.

  “Me? This isn’t even my house,” I reminded him stupidly because he obviously knew that.

  “Wait here,” he said as he tossed his slice of pizza back into the box and stood up from the couch.

  But I was already up and tugging at his arm before he could take a step in either direction. “I’m getting a really bad feeling about this,” I said as my stomach stirred with anxiety.

  “Yeah? That makes two of us.” His eyes were trained on the dark hallway, as though he were expecting our unexpected visitor to make an appearance there.

  The anxiety intensified, coiling out of my stomach and into the rest of my limbs. “Okay, so let’s just ignore it then,” I suggested, wishing we could just go back to our one normal evening of doing normal teenager stuff. “They’ll go away if we don’t answer.”

  “What if it’s one of our friends?” he asked in a tone that told me he didn’t remotely think it was one of our friends.

  “At twelve o’clock at night? I’m sure they would’ve called first.”

  The doorbell rang again, twice this time.

  “Only one way to know for sure.”

  I tightened my hold on his arm, my nails digging into his flesh. “I think it’s him. I can…feel him.” I knew I didn’t need to say his name for Trace to know that I was talking about Dominic.

  Trace looked down at me, the edges and lines of his face all business. “Don’t leave this room until I come back.”

  My eyes swelled as I dug my nails deeper into his bicep. “You’re not answering that door, Trace!” My shrilly voice sounded foreign, like it didn’t belong to me anymore.

  “I’m not scared of that leech, Jemma. Besides, he can’t come inside here.”

  “I know that…and so does he.”

  “So, what’s your point?” he asked, not following my train of thought.

  “Well, if he knows he can’t get inside here then what’s he doing here in the first place?” I wondered aloud as my stomach twisted itself into an uncomfortable knot.

  “To fuck with your head, obviously,” he said, looking as though he were growing angrier by the second. His gaze drifted back to the hallway as his jaw muscle ticked furiously. “He has some nerve showing up at my house.”

  “He has something planned.” I could feel it in my bones.

  “Good,” said Trace as he stormed out of the living room. “That makes two of us.”

  20. UNINVITED

  Trace was at the front door in a matter of seconds. It didn’t matter how quickly I dashed after him or how hard I’d tried to claw at the back of his shirt, there was no stopping his advance. He was a relentless tornado on a set path and there was nothing I could do or say that was going to derail him from his target.

  He swung open the front door and I hid in the shadows behind him like a coward, bile rising at the back of my throat as numbness spread through my limbs.

  “What the fuck do you want?” roared Trace, his back muscles rigid with tension.

  The sound of a tongue clicking in disapproval sent prickles all over my skin. I didn’t even need to see the dark angel’s face to know it was Dominic. I’d know that sound anywhere.

  “Is that any way to answer the door, Romeo? Where have your manners gone?”

  “I said, what the fuck do you want?” repeated Trace, taking a step toward the threshold as he flattened his palm against the door jamb.

  “If you must know, I’m looking for my sweetheart,” answered Dominic, his voice deceptively sweet. “I was told I could find her here.”

  A snarl spilled into his voice. “Told by who?”

  “Well, now, that’s for me to know, isn’t it?” Dominic snickered darkly bu
t there was nothing humorous or nice about it. “See, we had a date she and I, but she never showed up.”

  “That right?” asked Trace, his back muscles flexing through his shirt as he shifted on his feet. “Maybe you should take the hint then?”

  “Maybe,” mused Dominic. “Or maybe she’d like to tell me that herself. Angel? What do you say?”

  My veins turned to ice as my feet solidified into the foyer tile. He knew I was standing right there, cowering behind the door like a chicken. He knew because our connection went both ways, and while a part of me was screaming that I needed to step forward; to show him I wasn’t afraid of facing him, I couldn’t seem to get my feet to cooperate.

  “She’s busy, but I can take a message,” said Trace when I didn’t bother to step forward.

  “This isn’t really a message kind of situation. It’s more of a tête-à-tête conversation. Perhaps I’ll just have to catch up with her some other time and place. I’ll be happy to make the arrangements.”

  His underhanded threat snapped me out of my frozen stupor.

  What the hell was I doing? I was playing right into his hand, that’s what—boldening him like the prey to his predator, feeding his inner demon, which was precisely the thing that was not going to get him to turn his emotions back on.

  Gabriel’s words came back to me like a glass of ice water to the face. I needed to make him feel again, and I needed to use every emotion possible against him. Fear. Anger. Love.

  Jealousy…

  A plan sprang to mind. I squared my shoulders and stepped up beside Trace, wrapping my arm around his waist and letting his own arm fall down around my shoulder “What are you doing here, Dominic? I’m busy.”

  Dominic’s inky gaze immediately dropped to where my arm had gone before pivoting back to my eyes. “Well, isn’t this nice and cozy.”

  I fixed my expression into one of boredom.

  “Would you mind excusing us?” he asked Trace though his eyes never strayed from mine.

  “He doesn’t need to go anywhere,” I answered boldly. “Anything you need to say to me you can say in front of Trace.”