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

by Felisha Antonette

  She snorts a laugh. “You said that to me a long time ago. I understand it now.”

  I tear my gaze away from Tracey’s hand, lightly swinging at her side as we stroll under arches made of this plant and that, and down paths created by carnations and lilacs, then up short hills and man-made rivers that flow to koi ponds. I decide against touching her. Because, one, I don’t know why I want so badly for that contact, and two, I’m fearful the contact may attract thoughts of her mate more than me.

  “You have class tomorrow, at eight?”

  “Bright and early.” She hooks her arm around mine and lays her head on me. “You can drop me off. There’s this truck in the garage I’m sure you’ll love,” she hints.

  My truck! “You held on to my baby?”

  “Of course. It can’t wait to see you, as, I’m sure, you can’t wait to see it.”

  “Yeah. I can drop you off. How many classes do you have?”

  “Three. I’ll be on campus all day.”

  I take in a deep breath and brace myself for the change in her mood that’ll take place from my next question. “You’ll tell me about the life we used to have?”

  Happily, which is unexpected, she dives into a life she seems as equally proud of as she is upset with. “Our days were long and our nights were short, but we tried to make the most of every second. You were very overprotective.” She chuckles. “And it was very annoying all the time, but I think it was because—”

  “I was probably afraid of losing you. And being mated, should anything happen to you, it’d happen to me.”

  “Well, yeah. I think you loved me, not only as your mate but as your heart.”

  “Speaking for me, I think I would care for you as my heart too. Love doesn’t lie in objects or your actual heart. Love is a feeling that takes over your mind and it’s your brain that sends affection rushing through your entire body.”

  “You’ve been in love?” she asks, brushing her fingers over a row of flowers we pass.

  I turn down the corners of my mouth and consider the answer with precaution. Not wanting to answer incorrectly, or in a way that’d be offensive to her, I say, “I understand what love is supposed to feel like, and I don’t believe there are limitations, rather there are three types of love one can feel for another. Eros, Philos, and Agape. Once all three are acquired then one can say they’ve truly mated.

  “That’s my biggest disagreement with mating. It immediately forces you into a soft love where lust rules over sanity. The attraction is what pulls you to the person over their significance in your life, which is blasphemy. Then it drives you into an unhealthy, hard love where you live and breathe for this person, not able to think or move without them doing it with you. Mating never allows you to truly feel the passion of that word people throw around so loosely.

  “It should require the love in friendship first and have that give birth to passionate love so that it can then raise an unconditional love. It’d be stronger than any regular relationship, and I believe it would stop Burdened Sephlem from wiping out their mates when they’d lose control. Because with that time spent getting it right, the mate would’ve had the opportunity to imprint on the man and the beast. Then, when control is lost, the love isn’t, it’s still intact seeing through the same eyes, feeling you with the same heart.”

  Tracey releases my arm and falls back. I look back at her. “That makes total sense,” she mutters.

  “I know,” I quip and wave for her to come on. “Mating sucks because it starts backward and you have to grow into your life like a shirt bought two sizes too small when you’re a kid. That’s dumb.”

  Meeting me standing on a bridge that crosses over a large koi pond, Tracey leans over on her elbows. She says, “It’s more so the bond that you grow into. Mating isn’t controllable.”

  “It is too.” I try to recall the day I met Tracey but still come up short. I’ve been trying all day and can’t find that day to save my life. Rather, save me from asking my next question. “How’d we mate?”

  Her gaze drags away from me. Before she answers, her lips purse. “Eh. You ran into my car with your truck.”

  “Get out! Really?” I laugh. “God, that’s cheap.”

  “Yep. Texting and driving. You’re the reason it’s illegal now.”

  I laugh.

  Tracey’s laugh fades and she says, “Our love may have been forced and it might have been aggressive, but I didn’t mind it too much. We had so much crap going on, with this or that person wanting us dead, to us trying to get a grip on our relationship. We had a hard time focusing so we could fully build a friendship and grow our love in a way that was unconditional. And honestly, because of those bad moments, I think we knew our time would be short, so we sucked up the aggression of our forceful bonding.”

  “If life was so bad, why not eliminate your worries to embrace the peace?”

  She scoffs. “Though life wasn’t the greatest, it was the little moments of peace we did embrace when we were given the opportunity that cast a heavy shadow on the worse. Like now. You and me, walking through this garden like all is well, when really there’s an enemy after us we have no way to fight off.”

  I turn my back to the railing and lean against it as I take a glance around us. People stroll and admire the garden, without a glance in our direction. Peacefully, as the time has been with Tracey, we chill, no worries. “Why do you think this enemy hasn’t been an issue with us being together now?”

  “Because you’re no longer my mate?” She shrugs. “Don’t know. But I’m not mad about it. I’m also sure it won’t last long. Peace never does.”

  Our peace has lasted. Since I met Tracey, well . . . since I recently met Tracey, I’ve never felt more peaceful. And the relief I feel, I want to give that to her. She can be happy too if she could just let go of the past and allow us to live on through today. Who knows, maybe one day we’ll have a relationship. Not that I’d force that on her, and it’s not really something I’m looking for. But growing through friendship and moving into something romantic would be ideal, and I want her to see that. Mating isn’t something we should need. I don’t need fate to tell me who I’m supposed to be with or reassurance that I’ve found the right person. My heart would confirm that. I guess it would confirm that if there were one beating for me.

  Tracey grabs my hands and pulls me with her. She’s smiling, saying, “I don’t want to go back home after we leave here. Let’s go out somewhere, watch the sunset, listen to some AJR and Khalid. And we can dance and just move on, Nate. I want to go back to having fun with you.”

  “I’m definitely game. Let’s go, short stuff!” I pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, and run from the garden with her slapping my back, demanding I put her down.

  An Unhealthy Obsession

  Nathan

  Tracey and I go back to her house and trade cars. In my truck, my black beauty I’ve missed more than her, Tracey and I drive out into the forest for some off-roading and camping. We blast our favorite tunes and nearly scream the words of every song and mumble our way through the parts we don’t know.

  “Over there, Nate,” Tracey exclaims, pointing to a small clearing where we can set up a tent and sleeping bags.

  I back the truck between two trees and get out to unload the flatbed. Tracey clears the ground of sticks and rocks and places them in a pile for a fire. As I’m putting the tent up, she finishes unloading the truck and gets the fire started with a simple snap of her fingers. The night’s chill is already coming in and the sun’s nearly gone.

  On the floor of the tent, I place our sleeping bags, having difficulty determining the distance that needs to be between us. I’ve been overthinking everything. Every time I look at her, I’m wondering how she’s interpreting that glance. When I brush her arm, I’m concerned about how it made her feel. I would’ve hugged her twice now, and I’m too damn worried about her thinking she’s hugging her mate or thinking I’m remembering her as mine.

  I lie down betwe
en the two sleeping bags and push them apart until the distance equals to my body width. That should be enough space. Though, something tells me I’m going to wake up with Tracey snuggled so close that I’d crush her if I were to roll over. “Fuck it,” I mutter, picking up the sleeping bags and just throwing them on the floor. “Wherever they land, they land.” I unpack the rest of the bag; a lamp and extra blankets. “You mind getting that wireless speaker out? We’ll at least have some tunes when the conversation goes dead,” I say, annoyed by the silence already.

  “Sure. This cooler is too heavy for me to get out. You’ll get it?”

  I poke my head out of the tent, seeing her hunch over in the truck, grabbing the cooler by the handles. “Why do you need the cooler?”

  She straightens. “To lean against while we sit around the fire.”

  Shaking my head, I reject her thinking. “No cooler needed, beautiful. You’ve got a heavy lifter on your squad.” I leave the tent and search for a fallen tree. Quickly finding one, I drag the log to where we’ll be sitting. “Your throne awaits.”

  She applauds. “Thanks. That was convenient.”

  “Yes, I am.” I earn an eye roll, and I laugh.

  We leave to watch the sunset and come back to settle around the fire and play Battle Scar Galactica. She points to a vertical scar on her knee and says, “This one I got when boarding a cruise ship. My bag got snagged on the lift, and I tripped and scraped my knee on a screw that wasn’t tightened. They gave me stitches on the spot, and I never made it to Australia.”

  I set my canteen aside. “Umm. I want to say that’s false.”

  “Nope,” she says with pride. “It’s true!”

  “Seriously? Just by chance, your bag gets snagged and results in you clawing your knee out with a screw?”

  “Yep. It hurt like crap too. I was fourteen.” She grabs her water bottle and then says, “Your turn.”

  I point to a scar on my palm. “I got this from falling out of a two-story window. The broken glass cut into my hand when I was trying to catch myself. It didn’t work. I was very stupid when I was a teenager.”

  She points. “True!”

  “Are you calling me stupid,” I ask, my ploy forcing a smile into my concerned expression.

  She laughs, “No. But I believe you.”

  “Whelp, you’re wrong. This one I got from making a friendship bond when I was a kid. I was really young and very stupid.”

  She takes my sandwich I unwrap for me and bites into it. “You’re for real?”

  Grabbing another sandwich from our basket, I say, “Yeah. When I was younger, I had a friend named Tarleton. He and I were nearly tied at the hip until he passed.”

  She rubs my arm. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago. Don’t be sorry. Your turn.”

  She stands and lifts her shirt, revealing a scar the length of my hand dug into her abdomen. I rub my thumb across it. “Jesus Christ. How’d you get that?”

  She sucks in a breath. “A Qualm morphed my thoughts for their pleasure and tricked me to believe my mate was alive.” She swallows hard. “He convinced me to kill myself, so I took the knife and drove it through my stomach.” She reenacts the movement, and I snatch her hands away before they meet her body.

  “Why would you—?”

  “You’re supposed to guess true or false.”

  I hesitate to answer, not wanting to know if it’s true. “Dammit, Tracey!” I say pulling her down. She drops to her knees in front of me, and I want to hug her, but I don’t. I don’t want her to think I feel sorry for her, but I want to relieve her from the growing sadness in her eyes. Sweat beads along her hairline, and I push my hands from her forehead over her hair. Against my inner will, I push my arms around her, and in her brown curly hair, I bury my face and inhale a scent that’s close to ringing the bells of familiarity.

  She sighs with a contentment that causes stress to tighten my shoulders. My Burdened works its way to a forward thought, wanting Tracey in a way we shouldn’t deserve her. He aches my muscles for her, and I force myself to let her go to not squeeze the shit out of her when it wants me to hug her tighter.

  He remembers her in the way I can’t. “I want to remember you the way you remember me, Tracey.” He breaks past me, but it’s not something I wanted to say. But I won’t take it back.

  “When I found out you were alive, I debated coming for you and not. There’s a curse on us. By us just being together, we’re putting it in play. I don’t want the curse, but I can’t live without having you. I promised a long time ago that I’d always fight for you. When I was taken from you, you traveled through every storm, took on every obstacle to find me. Why wouldn’t I do that same thing for you? We never cared about the consequences, Nate. Why start now?”

  My Burdened sends a shiver up my spine. He’s trying to take over, and it’s taking every bit of control to calm it down. Goddammit, what do you want from me? I ask him. Heat rushes over my face and a prickling feeling on my mouth makes me draw my bottom lip between my teeth. I squeeze my eyes shut, and I try to get my Burdened under control. I have no idea what he’s trying to tell me, but I don’t need him taking over while I’m with Tracey. No telling what this beast will do.

  A small hand wraps around my wrist and glides to my hands. “It’s okay. You don’t have to force it. We’ll figure it out.” Her smile is soft. “Once, you didn’t remember me at all.”

  I meet her eyes. “I remember that. We had a spot. That, uh, old, abandoned carnival on 6th. We’d sit all night and talk.”

  She sits on her knees and is silenced by a thought.

  My Burdened is slowly taking over, less aggressive and more in a way to be informative, wanting to point something out to me.

  “I have an idea,” Tracey says, “I’m hopeful, but I don’t know.”

  “Anything you want,” spills from my mouth without crossing my mind. My beast’s creeping through, and I’m losing control of myself. To him, I warn to remain cool and not hurt her. There’s a sting in the back of my neck, as he’s insulted by my warning. I’ll share this with you, but don’t make any appearances, and stop speaking for me. He relaxes, satisfied.

  “You don’t remember me, but you trust me?” Tracey asks.

  I lift my right brow and let it fall. “If you wanted to harm me, I think you would’ve done so already. Like, a long time ago. What’s your idea?”

  She scoots closer and takes my hand. From her palm, a vine of fire slithers and forms a small serpent. It circles our wrists before knotting around them. Its heat is chilly, and its shine is brilliant. It binds our hands and a brighter display of light shines above it, morphing into two single flames. They form the figures of a man and a woman. The female takes the male by the hand. Confidently, he complies and they walk until meeting a tree, also formed by flames. Leaves fall from the tree like rain around them.

  In the sway of falling leaves, the two-stand face-to-face, hands clasped near her ears. They share a kiss. One that displays their goodbye instead of reuniting, but their bodies conjoin, and a flame around them blooms like a rose. They spin in the center of the flower, holding on to each other affectionately. Shortly, they’re swallowed by the bloomed flower closing over them, and a firework’s spark concludes the image.

  The slithering serpent unknots itself and snakes back into Tracey’s palm. She breaks our contact, and I keep her from retracting too far. “I thought it could help us figure out something, but it means nothing useful, or I don’t understand,” she says.

  The shape of a feather smolders on her cheekbone. I brush my finger over its glow and am shocked by how hot it is. “It’s burdened?” I mutter.

  “It is,” she follows.

  “I know what it’s telling us.”

  Hope brightens her eyes. “What?”

  Pushing my hand behind her neck, I draw her near to me and kiss her. From her lips, I search for a feeling. There’s one, but not the one I’m hunting for. But I give in to it, being it’s the
one that will accommodate the bonding. Nerves shake my hands as I fear her decline, but my Burdened is confident my next move will be accepted with indulgence.

  Tracey’s breaths are warm and eager. She grabs my neck between her hands and pushes one in my hair. Her tug is gentle, but it’s forceful. She’s wanted this and isn’t thinking twice like I thought she would.

  I slip my hands beneath her shirt and ease it over her head. She lets it fall away from her wrist and reacquaints her lips with mine. I’m hesitant to touch her bare skin, leaving my hands on her jean clad hips. My Burdened continues to push for control, forcing me to slide my graze from her hips to her waist. I dip my head to her chest and taste her flesh.

  She’s warm and clearly familiar to my touch. I expect her to flinch away when I unhook her bra and take her breast in my hands before easing my tongue over one and drawing her taut nipple in my mouth. But she sighs as the ease of tension softens her muscles, and she shoves her hands in my hair.

  Back down over her hips, I unbutton her jeans. She comes out of them and is eager to get back over me as I undress.

  She kneels above me, knees buried in the dirt, hands wrapped around my neck, lips magnetically bound to mine. Our breaths are heavy but don’t out sound over the crackling wood behind her. The light of the fire dances off her body in a way of excellence, and I hold her back to admire it. The light hits her curves and glazes them with a shine I recall. If I’m running my recollection or my Burdened’s, I don’t know.

  My beast is in love with this girl I’m about to bag outside in the woods. And neither of them have a care for their actions happening in public.

  Chill bumps form on Tracey’s skin as she allows me to watch her. She says nothing, just surveys me with her hair blowing in the earthy breeze. She is fucking gorgeous, I tell my beast. He sends a sensual urge over me, and I comply.