Golden: A Paranormal Romance

by Ellis Marie

  I’d rather kill you than let you embarrass me again.

  Trent’s hand pulls me forward while the other wraps around the back of my neck. His warm breath brushes over my forehead, his lips touching my skin.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, mi reina? Why didn’t you let me help you?” he asks, whispering into my hair. There’s a shake in his voice that is barely there but I hear it, like a pin dropping. “I could have helped you.”

  I squeeze him back and then gently pull away, stepping back from him and the safety I feel.

  “It’s alright.” I smile comfortingly. “Cam was there and I’m alright.”

  At the mention of Cam’s name, Trent’s eyes narrow and he takes step away from me, the soft and caring look gone in a blink of an eye. Cam’s warnings of Trent float back into my head—ones that I had forgotten about long ago.

  Please stay away from him. He’s not safe.

  Surely, Cam’s warnings aren’t because of something supernatural. Are they?

  “We should get to class,” I cough as I squeeze past his broad body, shutting my locker behind me on the way. He doesn’t say anything back. He just stays where he is, his feet unmoving and eyes unwavering.

  “Are you coming?” I ask, waiting for him. After a second, it’s as if he’s snapped himself out of something and he looks up at me.

  The smile that’s on his lips is as though he has a secret that he’s not telling me. I should feel on edge; I should want to run from him or worry about what exactly it is that he’s hiding from me.

  But I don’t.

  It’s as though I’m waiting for him to reveal his secret, and I know that he has one.

  “Yes, mi cielo, let’s go to class.”

  It’s hard to focus in class. That seems to be becoming the norm whether I liked it or not. For once, I’m not distracted by the beautiful boy sitting next to me; I’m distracted by the thoughts of monsters and witches lurking in the shadows of my life and who they could actually be.

  Not to mention the book that we’re studying is The Crucible, and suddenly, everything seems a whole lot more real. Stories of people accused of witchcraft is the basis of the book. When I first read it, I knew it was just hysteria . . . but is there more to it? Is it real?

  Would Mrs. Grenway get arrested, hauled into the gallows, or burned at the stake if people found out what she is?

  Would Cam?

  “Miss Williams?”

  I have been so caught up with the excitement of finding out that this is all real that I don’t consider what else comes with it. Will I ever be able to go out at night again? Every murder I read of on the news, or animal attack nearby, would it be human, animal, or a mix of the two?

  I’ve met monsters in my life. Surely, none of what hides out there in the dark could be worse than the horrors I’ve faced from humans, but something is scratching at the back of my mind. It’s making my feet constantly bounce and my fingers pick at each other, like there’s something I should be remembering but I can’t.

  “Elle!”

  Something hits my legs and I snap out of my spiralling thoughts. My leg thumps in pain as I look up and glare at Kristie, who’s watching me with wide eyes, her head motioning to the front of the class.

  I look forward and see Mrs. Howard standing with her arms crossed, her eyes looking between me and the board beside her, which has questions on it regarding the book.

  I clear my throat and shake my head, panic setting in as I realise I have no idea what she’s waiting for.

  She is going to kill me.

  Glancing at my book, I can see that I haven’t been doing anything the whole time. Instead, my hand has been drawing without me realising— words and swirls all mixed together—but there’s one thing that’s clear throughout.

  I’m drawing wolf eyes.

  “I . . . uh, I don’t . . . um.” My palms begin to sweat. “I’m sorry, I—”

  Why am I drawing that?

  “I can write it, Mrs. Howard. Elle has it written down anyway.”

  Trent stands up beside me and grabs my book before I can move or object. I watch as he walks to the front of the classroom, taking the pen from her as he begins to write.

  My heart feels as though it’s about to break through my chest as I watch his eyes skim over the page, taking in the doodles and words that I haven’t even had a chance to read yet. Something in it must shock him because he’s still for a few seconds before he begins to write.

  He’s obviously only pretending to read my work as he writes, but he’s answering the question perfectly as though he knows the answer all along.

  Why did he take my book then?

  Kristie turns and gives me a confused look.

  “Are you okay?” she mouths. I nod quickly, waving off her worried stare with a flash of a smile. She turns back to the front of the classroom, continuing to write.

  Glancing at the clock, I realise I’ve been zoned out for at least twenty minutes, but it feels like I’ve only blinked. When I look at my fingers, I can see that they’re covered in ink.

  I must have written a lot.

  “Thank you, Mr. Night.”

  Trent says something to Mrs. Howard while he’s still at the front of the classroom where no one can hear. She nods, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  I frown as I watch the interaction, my eyes following my book grasped tightly in his hands. When he turns away from her and heads straight for the door, I shoot up out my seat on instinct, my body wanting to stop him from leaving.

  “Miss Williams, I would ask that you sit down please,” Mrs. Howard scolds, her eyes burning me into my seat.

  “But I need to—”

  “You need to sit and actually listen to some of my lesson instead of daydreaming, or would you rather I give you detention?”

  Immediately, the arguments die in my mouth as I sink back into my chair, my mind running one thousand miles per minute over why Trent would want to take my book and where he was going with it.

  I don’t know what I’ve written on that.

  Although I try, I can barely focus on the rest of the lesson. My eyes constantly flick to the time and how long it would be before I could go and search for my property.

  About ten minutes before the class is due to end, a crackle breaks out through the speakers above us and the announcement tone rings.

  ‘Would Miss Annabelle Williams please make her way to the principal’s office. That’s Miss Annabelle Williams.”

  My stomach lurches into my throat as everyone turns and looks at me, questions coating their expressions. I feel like a goldfish spinning in a glass bowl.

  “You better go, Miss Williams, and take your things.”

  I nod silently and stand, my body shaking as I do.

  What am I being called for? Has my father come to the school? Has someone reported the bruises on my neck or my eye? No, I’ve kept it hidden most of the day, and no one seemed to notice. Mrs. Grenway’s spells had worked.

  Apart from Trent. Why had he still been able to see them?

  At first, I thought that maybe the spells hadn’t worked, but Kristie barely bat an eyelid when she saw me and said she could barely see them. Tom didn’t even mention them.

  But Trent acted like they were fresh.

  Gathering my things, I push through the tables, my bags knocking into desks as I go. I whisper apologies as I exit the room, eager to be able to breathe again.

  I half throw myself out the door and land in the empty hallway, the slam of the wood shutting behind me echoing.

  My feet quickly make their way in the direction of the office; the click of my boots is the only sound accompanying my breathing and it puts me on edge.

  Nothing good ever happens in these empty corridors.

  Images of Carter grabbing me and throwing me to the ground rise up in my mind, and I fight to push them away.

  He hasn’t been seen in days; neither has Matt. Maybe they all just ran away, or maybe my prayers have been answered.r />
  “You’ve really got something on your mind today, haven’t you?”

  The scream leaves my mouth before I can stop it. I swing my bag at the figure that has popped up beside me, my arms doing it before I can comprehend. They manage to block it and grab onto me, covering my mouth with their hand.

  As soon as the skin touches mine, the fear inside me disappears and I catch my breath, my arms dropping instead of trying to punch the figure.

  Trent pulls me into a nearby room as he curses under his breath, footsteps coming towards us.

  He closes the door behind us silently as I sit down on one of the chairs. My head pounds as air encircles my lungs, and I take a few calming breaths as we listen to the footsteps pass us and carry on down the hall.

  “That was close.” He chuckles, shooting a grin back at me. “Maybe next time, try not to scream when I speak?”

  I scowl at him, letting out a sarcastic laugh. “You think? Maybe next time, don’t scare me like that. The last time someone did that was Carter, and I think we both know how that ended up.”

  Regret immediately flashes through his eyes, and he visibly tenses, his fingers curing into themselves as he puffs out a breath and comes to stand in front of me.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

  I shrug, crossing my arms over myself as I begin to feel embarrassed. I’m such a mess.

  “Look, it’s fine, but I need to go. The principal wants to see me.” I begin to stand up, but Trent holds out his hand.

  “Actually, he doesn’t. I called in a favour, told him I wanted to talk to you about the school integration and how it’s been going.”

  My mouth pops open in shock. “You got me out of class to talk about the schools?” I question. He chuckles, pulling something out from behind him.

  “No, actually, I wanted to talk to you about this.”

  My notebook slams onto the table in front of us, the pages open on work from last week. I frown at it, glancing at Trent in confusion.

  “You wanted to talk about my note-taking skills?” I laugh, looking over the words and doodles across the page. “You should have stayed in English for that. I’m sure Mrs. Howard would have— “

  “I don’t want to talk about your note-taking skills,” Trent interrupts with an edge to his voice. “I want to talk about your drawings.”

  I roll my eyes and flick through the pages, trying to laugh off his interrogation, but my skin is starting to prick, and that scratching is beginning at the back of my head again.

  “So I haven’t been focusing well? Sue me? I didn’t realise you were concerned about my academic record.”

  He sighs and points at the book. “I’m not worried about it. I—”

  “Well, that’s just rude,” I interrupt as I stand, not wanting to know what he’s about to say. “School is very important, so I should be—”

  “Elle,” he half growls. I freeze, looking at his gritted jaw and the way he is gripping on to my book. “Please,” he begs. “I need you to look at this.”

  For a moment, I consider not doing what he asks, but the way he says it makes something stir in my stomach. I know that if I just walk away, then I will be wondering what it is that he sees for days.

  “Fine, let me see.”

  He hands me the book. I look at the first page that he has pointed to. It’s from the class we were both currently meant to be in, and although there is a little bit of work behind it, most of the page is just doodles.

  My fingers tingle when I see the wolf’s eyes staring back at me and Trent seems to notice.

  “Why a wolf?” he asks. I shrug, trying not to let the panic show on my face.

  He couldn’t find out about Cam.

  “I saw a wolf in the forest a couple weeks ago. I told you I like them.”

  He regards me for a moment, mulling over my answer before he nods and turns the page before pointing at it again. “Why did you draw this?”

  His finger is hovering over a drawing of a shining moon, the fullness of it almost making it jump of the page. The buzzing in my head starts to increase, like someone is turning up the radio but it’s just static and they can’t find a channel.

  That scratching at the back of my head.

  “It’s the moon,” I deadpanned. “It’s not exactly like I can draw the sun as easily?”

  His lips quirk up slightly at my smart-ass answer, but he accepts it, again turning some pages in my book without saying anything.

  This time, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just hands me the book. He watches me so carefully that I’m actually afraid to look at it, to see what it is that I’ve done.

  I hold my breath as I look down at the scribbled-on pages, the words a blur as I focus on the drawings alongside it. The breath leaves my body as I giggle.

  “Is this a joke?” I ask. Trent frowns, gaze flickering to the page and back to me. “It’s literally a line drawing of a tree, Trent.” I roll my eyes and put the book down on the table.

  “Are you going to tell me what this is about?” I ask, and it just seems to annoy him.

  “Where did you see that drawing?” he asks again, and I groan.

  “I don’t know, okay? Maybe I just imagined it or thought it up!” I laugh. “Why is that so strange? It’s a squiggly, no breaks, line drawing of a tree. Is that meant to mean something?”

  He closes his eyes and turns away from me, mumbling something past his lips as he looks towards the door. The feeling of ease starts to vanish at how stressed his figure looks.

  Carefully, he raises his arms and slides off his leather jacket, making me take a step away from him as my body flushes with heat.

  “Woah, what are you doing?” I half gasp out, looking around to see that no one is about. “Could you put your clothes back on? I— “

  My words stop as I see why he’s taken off the high-necked jacket, because with it on, I’m not able to see the skin on the back of his neck.

  Or the tattoo that resides there.

  I look at the pattern, starting from the root and following the single line all the way to the top of the design before it carefully weaves its way back down, all in one fluid motion.

  “It’s your tattoo,” I manage to breathe out, realising what he’s showing me. “I was drawing your tattoo.”

  He slowly turns back around, sliding his jacket back up his arms and I begin to blush as the ringing in my ears increases and my fingertips tingle.

  “I’ve been drawing your tattoo,” I admit guiltily. “I must have seen it when you took off your shirt before and just done it subconsciously.”

  Trent frowns, turning back to face me and takes a step towards me cautiously, as if he’s scared I’ll run away.

  “Elle, I need you to look at the drawing again. Why were you drawing it?”

  I huff and throw my hands up. “I don’t know, Trent, okay?”

  He shakes his head, advancing towards me. “That’s not a good enough answer.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say!” I argue back, frustration rising in me.

  “I need the truth.”

  I start walking away from him and towards the door, my face heating up with the words he’s saying to me and the embarrassment I’m feeling.

  “I’m giving you the truth!”

  “No, you’re not. I need to know why.”

  “I don’t know why!”

  The pounding through my body intensifies so much that I feel like I’m about to crack open like a shell.

  “Yes, you do, so just tell me—”

  Finally, I spin around and look at him, not able to take the questioning anymore.

  “Maybe it’s because I stare at you! Is that a good enough reason?” He seems to be frozen at my words, confusion on his face.

  “Is that what you wanted to hear?” I ask, half begging him to let it go. “That I’ve most likely been looking at you way too much, and I’m so fascinated by you that my mind has subconsciously begun to remembering things about you tha
t I don’t even remember seeing?”

  Trent’s tension falls from his body as he takes a step back, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. He almost looks bashful at my compliments and another round of shame pours over me as I realise what I’ve just admitted.

  “Elle, I didn’t—”

  I clear my throat and pick up my book, shoving it into my bag without giving him a glance.

  “I’m going to head out for lunch,” I tell him quickly. “I have a free period after, and I said that Kristie and I would go and see Mrs. Grenway.”

  He reaches out as if to grab me, but I push past his large frame and open the door right as the bell rings above us, causing him to move back and let me go.

  “See you later, Elle.”

  As soon as I reach the corridor, I head for the English classroom to find Kristie, eager to tell her what’s happened and try to have someone make sense of it.

  “I think he doesn’t believe you really like him, and he thinks you’re out of his league,” Kristie states, bringing her mug up to her lips as she shrugs airily. “I wouldn’t look into it much. Maybe he’s self-conscious about the tattoo, although it must be well hidden because I’ve never seen it.”

  I groan and roll my eyes, flopping back on to the sofa as Obi licks my hands, eager to be petted. I oblige half-heartedly.

  “I don’t know. He just seemed so invested in it, it was strange.”

  “That boy is strange all over,” Kristie counters with a laugh. “None of him is normal, especially his stunningly good looks and the way he looks at you, Elle? I wouldn’t be worried.”

  I mull over her words, finding the truth in them a little but it still doesn’t sit right with me. Why is he so concerned at me drawing that tattoo?

  “Kristie, could you be a dear and let Obi out? I’d do it, but my legs are sore.” Mrs. Grenway smiles at my friend softly, her old lady charm seeping into the request and Kristie can’t say no.

  “Of course, I can. Come on, Obi.”

  The dog follows her without question, trotting after her as she makes her way through the house and out the back door, the click of it a clear sign for a real conversation to begin.