Finite: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 4)

by Felisha Antonette

  On my tiptoes, I cross the chain-linked ledge to the metal stairs and lightly descend them, hoping I go unheard. At the bottom of the stairs, I hit a fork, and I take the path leading to my left, leading down a hall.

  “You came here looking for me?” A familiar voice from behind me draws me to a halt.

  Damn . . . Michael Moore . . .

  I whip around, ready to sic my snake on him, but a wool bag is pulled over my head and something smacks me across my temple. Dazed from the attack, I hold onto my consciousness. I sway, trying to remain my balance as I shake the dizziness away.

  Someone pulls me forward. They force me up a flight of stairs and down what seems like a hall. They slam me down on a chair, yank my arms behind my back, and tie me up, binding my wrists with a rope that cuts into my skin.

  The bag’s pulled from my head.

  The room’s spinning.

  It takes minutes for me to focus. I stare at an empty doorway, and no one’s in sight. The instant I turn my head, a blindfold is placed over my eyes before I can make out my surroundings. “Argh! Lunis must be in here,” I gurgle to whoever is in the room besides Michael and me. “Just so you idiots know, with my mate being dead, I can’t latch on to his ability, so, no need to think I can dust you or anything.”

  Michael snickers. “No, Tracey, baby. It’s just you and me.”

  Clearing my throat, I say, “You know, no matter what you do to me, I will never want you. Maybe we could’ve been friends, but after what you did, I hate you with every fiber of my being.”

  He groans. “Stop it, Cey.”

  “Let me go, Michael.” I jerk my arms. “If I have to get out of here myself, it’s not going to end well for any of you.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Tracey.” His footsteps near me, and I feel him stand in front of me. “I’d just like to make things right between us again. Like the way they used to be.”

  I part my lips, preparing to cuss Michael, but I’m struck silent, sucking in a bitter breath—the deepest breath—as Nathan’s demanding presence takes over the room. I’ve not felt him in forever. I exhale slowly.

  Drawn speechless, I sit here, quietly, listening to the two breathe. Once the effect of Nathan’s presence settles in me, I relax my muscles and contemplate my exit.

  I tug my arms, testing how tightly Michael’s tied the rope. It’s pretty tight and hurts when I twist my arms as the rope cuts deeper into my skin. With my vision limited, I use my ability to feel for everyone and get an idea of where they stand. Nathan’s far off in this room to my right, and Michael’s a couple of feet in front of me. He moves frequently, possibly left and right, maybe pacing. My feet are loose, and I cross my ankles. The door is in front of me, and I’m prepared to make a run for it at the right time.

  “What do you want, Michael? Why don’t you just let me go?” Why Michael is even in the middle of this has me stumped. Besides him being a Faylaman, why is he even bothering with us? He’s alive, so he’s not benefiting from anything Lunis has to offer. “What’s your play here?”

  Michael’s steps drag across the floor.

  “Can you please get away from me?” I shake off the hand he places on my knee. “You don’t have to be near me to answer my question. Don’t touch me.”

  “You used to like it when I touched you like this,” he utters, placing his hand to the center of my thigh while the other settles on my waist.

  “The keywords are used to. Never again will I ever like it or want it. Get the hell away from me and get on with whatever you are going to do.”

  A smile sounds on his voice as he says, “I’m doing it.” He draws nearer to me, and his lips press against mine. I yank away, but he leans in, moving as I move, not allowing us space.

  I ram my foot into a part of his body I hope is his groin. He grunts, jerking away, cursing my attack. I spit in the direction. “Asshole!”

  “Make her be still and when I kiss her . . . make her return my affection,” Michael commands with a deep rage that causes his voice to growl.

  “Don’t do it, Nathan,” I say smoothly, shaking my head, assuming Michael’s talking to him.

  “Shut the hell up, Tracey!” Michael barks. “He isn’t here for you.”

  “Nathan, don’t make me kiss him.” I keep my voice even and strong, not wanting them to sense any kind of fear. Not that I’m scared or worried, but I don’t want them to misinterpret even the slightest crack in my voice. “You don’t want to do this.” This guy has to have morals within him somewhere. He has to know that forcing me to kiss Michael is wrong.

  Michael moves in again, as a stealthy sense crawls over me and compels my compliance in Michael’s order of my submission.

  “I won’t force her to kiss you, but she won’t attack you,” Nathan says.

  “The hell I won’t,” I say, but can’t move a limb. “Michael, I’m playing nicely because I want answers. But you touch me again, these measly ropes aren’t going to hold me back.”

  There’s a titter. A hand wraps around my neck, and I’m ripped from the chair and thrown to the floor. Michael’s over me, pinning me down. He slams his mouth down on me and rocks his hard hips against mine.

  I buck beneath him, trying to wrench free, but I’m motionless, still as the concrete beneath me. My fire snake isn’t shooting from my palm as I’m willing it to. My body is not bursting into flames as I’m demanding it.

  Shit. I’m a sitting duck. . .

  Michael moans against my mouth and my aggravated grunt for freedom gives off the wrong signal. He drags his mouth from mine, down to my neck, sending revolting shocks painfully striking with every connection.

  I tried compromising with Nathan, but he’s forcing me to be a bitch. Through the pain, I clench my teeth, saying, “This isn’t who you are, Nate. You’re greater than taking orders from him.” A distraction is all I need. “When’d you become a Faylamen’s bitch?” I shout.

  “What?” Nathan barks. I’m able to move, snake shooting from my hand and I’m the girl on fire. Michael jumps away from me.

  On my feet, I rip the blindfold from my eyes. “Kill everything!” I tell the snake. I whip around and gasp.

  Oh no!

  Nathan snatches me up by my neck, hand wound so tightly he cuts off my air supply. “Who is who’s bitch now?” he snarls.

  I grab his wrists. I can’t speak. My face is burning hot as I choke. “Please,” I breathe, eyes locked on him.

  I will my fire snake to do something. Entranced by Nathan’s swirling eyes, I can’t see what it does, but Nathan breaks our gaze and drops me. I run from the room, hitting a corner, and race down a flight of stairs. Around another corner, I hit another flight, and then I shoot down a hallway in search of somewhere I can rest and come up with a plan.

  “Tracey!” Michael screams from somewhere on an upper level. He follows with, “I know you’re still in here. Whatever you came here to accomplish tonight isn’t going to happen.”

  “You know, Michael, I don’t know what has come over you, or who this guy is you’ve become. But, when Nathan remembers, and we all know I’ll get him to remember, he’s going to murder you for what you did.”

  There’s a laugh. “You’re very optimistic.”

  I slip inside of a room where there’s a door that leads down another hall. I’m lost, but I push onward, hoping to come upon a door that’ll lead me outside. I take a corner to my left and then another to the right and enter a corridor with the ceiling and walls lined with pipes and railing.

  I’ve found my way into a basement it seems.

  Pounding footstep spike in my hearing. They’re coming my way.

  I’ve taken too many turns, I don’t know which is the way away or to them. Against a corner, hidden in the darkness, I press my body to the wall. The heavy steps echo through the halls as they make their way down one of the three halls leading to me.

  I hold my breath.

  He makes it to the center, back to me. With a look over his shoulder, he instantly
meets my eyes—his glowing midnight blue, chilling my shaking bones.

  I shake my head. “Nathan,” I whisper. “Don’t hurt me. I’m just trying to find a way out of here.”

  He parts his lips and takes a deep breath as though he were preparing to shout.

  I shoot from the wall and throw my hand over his mouth. “Don’t!” I whisper harshly. “Please?” I beg desperately.

  Snatching my hand from his face, he shoves me away from him. “Touch me again, and I’ll tear you apart, girl.”

  I throw up my hands, surrendering to his threat. “I’m sorry.”

  “Go ahead,” he says. “Run that way.” He throws a point, not caring one way or another. “Get further lost in this maze you’ve worked your way into.”

  “You’ll let me escape?” I ask, backing away from him.

  “For now.” He folds his thick arms in front of his swollen chest. A brow hitches and accommodates a rising smirk. “I like the hunt.”

  Drawing my lips to the side, I consider it, escaping. But I didn’t come all this way to get forced to kiss my ex-boyfriend and leave empty-handed. My reason for all of this is standing right in front of me, we’re alone, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get him back. My only downfall is that I don’t know what to do about it. How do I get him to remember me?

  My last-ditch effort.

  “I’m either going to walk away from this or die at your feet,” I mutter. Uncloaking my eyes and breaking down my walls, I open myself up to him. I strip off my jacket and shake out my hair, hoping my scent fills this small space we occupy. His nostrils flare as he studies me.

  He’s always wanted to, but never would take a feeding from me. Maybe now he will and maybe . . . just maybe, he’ll recall me, and let his guard down just enough for me to break into his thoughts.

  Nathan strikes across the ground and pins me to the concrete corner. The stone is smooth to my skin, but his grip is constricting. “Why,” he hisses, “do you smell so good?”

  His head dips down beside mine and my stomach flutters. My hands shake and my breaths stutter. Nathan inhales and there’s restraint as he tries to muffle the reflexes of his sensory. Instead, he growls.

  Slowly, he draws back, eyes swirling night blue, outlined in a stinging gray. To his demon, I mutter, “Did they make it to you, too? You remember me, don’t you?”

  “What?” Nathan spits.

  “Taste it . . .” I dare it, tilting my head back. “Just a little. Help me.”

  In a blink, the control is snatched from Nathan and with ease his beast has taken possession of their being, and it is his beast who has me pinned against the wall, more than a foot off the ground. Huge hands restrain my wrists, splaying my arms out, keeping me pinned. Managing my weight by my shoulders hurts, but I hold in my complaint.

  The beast growls, “How dare you speak to me?”

  “You know who I am. I know you do.”

  “I know what he knows,” it says. It sucks in my air and dips its head near my neck. “You’re offering yourself to me, Tracey?” it asks, followed by its sharp teeth scraping across my neck. They break the skin and its tongue slides over the abrasions. “You’re saying, right now, I can finally sip from you, everything?”

  Nervously, I say, “I just want you two back. If this is what it takes. Yes, have everything.”

  “Us two?”

  “You’re a package deal. Help me get him back?”

  Those night eyes look me over as it lowers me to the ground. “What are you?” it whispers in its rough voice that’s as venomous as it is intriguing.

  When it releases my wrist, I place my hand on his diamond hard cheek. “You know what I am. Now”—I take on the tone Nathan has always hated and demand my next words with a will I hope controls him.—“give me back my mate.”

  The beast cringes in weakness as it shrinks before me, shifting back to Nathan-size. Nathan throws his hands to his head and squeezes his eyes shut. I wrench from the wall and rush over to him, calling, “Nathan? You okay?” cautiously, but hopeful.

  Part II

  I Have Been A Fire

  Nathan

  Big brown eyes gaze on me with hopefulness. Arched eyebrows nearly touch her hairline. Anything?” she whispers, seemingly unintentional as it’s followed by a hard swallow.

  I graze my knuckles along her tear-dampened cheek. When I meet her jaw, I push my hand around the back of her neck and let my thumb graze a spot beneath her ear. She smells like lilac and orchids. Cherry-red lips tremble. She tucks the bottom one between her teeth and bites down.

  I tug one of her curls, and it bounces on my release. With my left hand, I trace the bridge of her nose.

  “A little bit of something?” she begs.

  I break our contact and retract my steps. Her hands shake as they drop to her sides. She’s familiar; a certain memory left on her lips and a constant worry in the creases beside her eyes. I’d be certain about my assumptions, but I can’t feel her.

  To settle her fear, I smile and say, “I see you” as I glide a finger along her jawline and tilt her head back when I make it to her chin. I kiss her mouth. She stills momentarily as her chest swells, then a smile parts her lips. “You’re happy?”

  “Is that a trick question?”

  I don’t recall why I was chasing her, or how she got me cornered. I rub my forehead, trying to work off the dizziness. “How’d we get down here?” Her expression morphs from hopeful to disappointed. “What’s wrong.” I rub her shoulder.

  “Do . . .” She clears the grogginess. “Do you know who I am?” she asks.

  I scoff, “Of course, Tracey. Are you okay?”

  “Just Tracey?”

  I flick my gaze away from her and then re-meet her eyes. “Tracey Warren . . . ?”

  “Oh.” She squeezes the back of her neck. “Right.” A smirk warms her cheeks. “I’m just happy I got you back. You were zoned and maybe wanted to kill me.”

  A thunder of footsteps echoes through the basement. I scan the halls for an exit.

  “What’s wrong?” Tracey asks.

  I scratch my head, sourly admitting, “I can’t remember how to get out of here.”

  “Crap!”

  Grabbing her hand, I pull her to our right, a hallway darker than the other two. “Let’s try this way.” Corner after corner, we hunt the halls for an exit. “There’s a way out of here somewhere.”

  We meet the end of the hall, and to my relief there’s a door. I shove the door open, and we’re ambushed . . .

  I tuck Tracey behind me, shielding her from three cloaked creatures huddled around the door. One says, “We’ve left you with plenty of time. Now is our time and we need to speak with you.”

  My Burdened sends a sting driving up my spine. With a stab in my stomach, it requests control, but with Tracey here, I refuse to give in to it. Settled and seeming to understand why I declined him, he sends thoughts to me, wanting me to request more time. Without question, to the oddly cloaked figures, I say, “I require more time.”

  With a single nod from the one in the center, they each nod and disperse with the darkness, shadows seeming to evaporate. Once they’re out of sight, I bring Tracey to my front and silently pull the door closed. “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She hugs me. “Thanks.”

  Uncomfortably, I push my arms around her back. “For what?”

  “Shh. Just a second.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, still unable to shake my dizziness. The last few days are a blur, maybe a little longer than a few days. The last thing I recall was sitting at a bar after a small tiff with Tracey over a dying conversation. Her being my mate. I was doubtful. I’m still doubtful. I didn’t want things to change between us, and she was okay with keeping things the same. Mostly. But something changed. Everything averted, and I can’t remember how. The family she brought me to meet though, they’re my blood. I can remember them, living and growing with them. Now I do.

  The hell did they do to me?

&
nbsp; From inside the building, maybe on a different level than the basement, Michael is yelling for Tracey. Michael, the name offered to me by my Burdened. He’s Tracey’s ex-boyfriend, but I have a faint memory of them together more recently. My Burdened quirks and shifts within me. It’s hard to fight him, so I choose not to. “Tracey, there’s something I need to handle. I’ll be right back,” we tell her. “Wait for me somewhere safe. I’ll find you.”

  “Don’t forget,” she adds, before running to my left, out of sight.

  I keep her scent current in my senses so I can quickly find her after I carry out this itch my Burdened won’t allow me to ignore. Whatever Michael did, there’s no way he’s living with the pleasure of getting away with it.

  It’s easy for me to find my way back through the basement and to the main floor of the warehouse.

  Michael’s racing down the stairs, calling, “Nate, did you see her? Was she down there?”

  It’s my stall that makes us wait for him to make it before me. My Burdened knows exactly what it wants to do, but for me, I’m curious about what this clown did. He’s half my size and my lightest punch should knock him out. But my Burdened seems to think he’ll give us a run for our money. With flashes from a past I’ve yet to recall, it reveals our hate for Michael and him damn near raping Tracey as she lay on the floor bound and blindfolded.

  There’s a snarl that rips from me as my sight changes and the ground grows further away. Michael shudders and possibly fear sends him stammering back. “W-what’s up, man. You find her or not?” To my delight, it’s fear. The surrounding air shades red and the scent of terror soars through my nostrils, sending a savor over my pallet. Dammit if it doesn’t smell good. My Burdened quirks for me to attack, while I prefer to savor it. The longer I wait, the better it’ll taste.

  There has forever been an itch to force this Faylaman to reap what he sows. I’ve not been able to place it until now, why I’ve despised him so much, but I’m starting to remember.