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

by Felisha Antonette

  I rest my chin on top of her head. “It’s okay. You’re not some evil seeress. You’re Tracey Warren. A girl who’s missing class and work at the moment to . . . I don’t know, save the world. You think they’ll let you use that as an excuse?”

  She draws back, swiping her hand over my shirt. “Yeah. Sorry, Professor Perry, I was out with my once dead mate trying to find out how we’re the All-Seeing of Death, so we can see how we’d be used to stop Qualms from overthrowing the humans and taking over the world as you know it today.”

  “Perfect!”

  She rolls her eyes and turns away from me.

  With her back to my chest, I push my arms around her and slip my head beside hers. “If it’s not for the small things in huge faults, what would we have to live for?”

  She grabs my arm across her front and leans her head back. A simple sigh escapes her. “For more moments like this that make going through those dealings worth it.” Looking at me, she asks, “This hold. Do you mean it or are you doing this for me?”

  I study her eyes. They’re red with sadness, but it’s as if I’m sucking it up as the white in her eyes return. “It is all for you, Tracey. But I mean it, too. I mean every tension and every bit of closeness.”

  She falls silent. I mean it. The way I hold her, there’s more affection in my embrace than there has been before. I guess the disconnect is fear of loss.

  “The world is a dark place. Even if we weren’t in a battle for our freedom and that of others, we’d still feel attacked, if not by others, then by ourselves. I can’t and I won’t let you be victimized by these demons and monsters that plague our current circumstances. We’ll smile through the battle of overcoming the evil that’s trying to come alive inside of us. We’re greater than what we’ve been told we are, and I’m willing to fight against it. Will you?”

  Tracey turns around. “Yes.” Her answer is simple, followed by a simple action. She gets in the truck and closes the door.

  I round the truck and get in. Pulling the door closed, I say, “Tonight. We should go to the Forge. Get a full understanding of what’s going on. We’ll go home first, recoup, then hopefully get more answers.”

  “Yeah, and hopefully we don’t die in the process.”

  Mr. Brightside

  Nathan

  Taylor and Little Nathan come with us to the nightclub that’s in a rural part of town. We’re carded at the dingy metal door. Sweat and citrus hit my nose as I wait in the doorway for Tracey.

  We didn’t come out to party, but didn’t want to stand out in sweat pants and t-shirts. In skin-tight jeans and a shimmery shirt that stops at her navel, Tracey’s curves distractingly stand out. I can’t help but wonder, each time that I admire her, how our life would be without the extent of the mating. How she would’ve loved me outside of fate’s reels, my kind’s seal.

  Maybe we would’ve met by chance, had the worst first date, but tried it again after a month or two when we’d happen to cross each other’s paths again. We’d enjoy mostly laughs, and one day, I’d look at her and see something I’d missed the first hundred times I’d viewed her. I’d hear her voice out of the blue one day and it’d sound like rushing water to a deserted heart. And her smile, I could pander in it all day. Maybe she’d love me slowly.

  Tracey smiles at me, passing the guard. Her words fall short. And, honestly, I don’t care to hear them. I admire her a second longer and resist the urge to kiss her and taste her smile. She’s been drowning me for a while. Off and on, I see her as just a friend, then I see her as my lover, and then I see her like a heartbeat. On a rare occasion like this, she’s all three.

  A hand waves in front of my eyes. Little Nathan. “What?” I ask.

  “We’re being signaled,” he says, pointing to our left.

  A waitress stands by a VIP booth, waving us over. When we make it to her, she asks, “You’re Nathan?”

  “Possibly?” Taylor answers.

  “Anything I can get you guys?” She smacks her gum, offering, “Spritzer, cocktail, whiskey?”

  We sit in the booth. Little Nathan and I order a shot of Jim Beam, Tracey and Taylor pass. The waitress nods and leaves us.

  “Are you seeing this?” Tracey asks, gaze fixed on the bloat of people dancing.

  I will Tracey’s ability to assist me in seeing as she does. I smelled it at the door but figured there’d be at least one human in this place. I was wrong. Every beast of all kind fills this club.

  “Are they hiding just in case?” Tracey asks.

  I shrug. “Just because you are a beast, doesn’t mean you have to look or act like one. Most may prefer their human form.”

  “Like we do,” Taylor adds. “I’d hate walking around the color of a cherry with jet-black hair.” She pulls her ponytail over her shoulder. “Every time I’d throw my hair, I’d risk cutting someone with how sharp our ends become.”

  Tracey pushes her hands through the back of my hair, and the feeling is euphoric. “It’d be very dangerous to do this,” she says. “And your skin would be uncomfortable to touch,” she adds, slipping her hand beneath my shirt. It slides across my stomach to my side, and to my surprise, the next feeling is her kiss against my neck. “And that’d be poisonous,” she croons.

  I turn a bit to look at her. “Only if you were able to bite me.”

  Inebriation narrows her eyes. “I’d nibble on you.” Her tongue glides over my neck and she follows through with her promise. Her state of mind sinks down on me and nearly takes me there, too. A place that lifts my senses and lightens my head, a place that’s warming my body, and yearning for the contact of my mate.

  In an instant, Tracey’s straddling me, hands thrust through my hair, tongue sliding across my neck.

  “Whoa. What has gotten into you?” I grab her hips and move her to my side, using much of my strength to keep her there.

  The volume of the music has increased, and a tantalizing scent is flooding the open area. It may be coming from the pink mist spraying from the fog machines placed around the loft-like ceiling.

  Little Nathan has disappeared. I scan the crowd, finding him sucking face with a Kitsune, like most of the people in here, abruptly making out and grinding on the dance floor.

  The waitress returns. She’s Burdened; as Taylor described, red as a cherry and her short hair is now spiky. “What’s going on?” I ask, trying to keep Tracey’s oncoming at bay. She’s on her knees now, inches from touching or kissing me on the right spots to get fucked on this bench.

  “It’s diner’s hour. You’re a Burdened Sephlem, I see. Unaffected by the pheromones. It’s a time for feeding and everyone’s welcome to choose how they fill that urge. Sometimes it’s by sex.” She points to two witches getting it on in the corner. “Maybe they like to drink.” She nods toward the party next to me, who’s ordered a human male platter for their beverage. A mixture of vamps, lamias, and demons have their teeth dug into the human jerking himself off as he’s being drained. I’ll never unsee that shit. “Or my favorite,” the waitress continues, “Burdened who are trying to blend in with the rest of the crazies.”

  I scan the crowd for Burdeneds finding them feeding on randoms and satisfying their beasts for the hell of it.

  “It’s not too bad when the Misses is getting a little rowdy.” She points the butt of her pen toward herself.

  “It’s a demon’s ball,” Taylor mutters.

  “No. It’s a place where you can be free to be what you want, and whoever runs this place is provoking that behavior, helping you not hide it,” I say.

  The waitress nods. “Make sure you’re out of here before the trumpets blow. Your feisty lady here is human and they will have a ball feeding off her.” She looks me over. “And you’ll likely have fun fighting them off and doing a little feeding for yourself.” She hands me my drink. “When’s the last time you tasted soul, or power, or fear? Or pleasure? Pleasure’s the sweetest.” Looking from Tracey to me, she concludes, “Get out there, enjoy it.” She walks from the two s
teps leading down to the floor and locks lips with a woman who’s happy to reciprocate the action. They go at it against the back of a man who’s feeding on a human half his size.

  At the tug of my belt buckle, I turn to Tracey, grabbing her by her shoulders. “You listen here, Little Missy. Don’t be distracted. You’re too sexy to be all over me like this.”

  She chuckles, trying to push my arm aside. “But—”

  Throwing my hand over her mouth, I say, “Shh. We’re on a mission right now and freaking on you at a nightclub is not a part of it. Fight the pheromones.”

  “Nathan?” Taylor calls, gaze locked on a far corner near a hall.

  Where no one gathers, a dim blue light illuminates the hall. where three Qualms appear. The one, their leader, I’m getting more familiar with his appearance the more I see him—it. Unlike the others, it’s a head taller than those that accompany it. And when the dark mist does reveal his face, it’s less skull and more flesh with icy gray eyes.

  “Go get Little Nathan,” I tell Taylor. “Keep an eye on me so you can follow me after you find him.”

  “‘Kay. Want me to take Tracey.”

  “No. I got her.” I grab Tracey by her hands and force her to come with me. We maneuver through the amorous crowd to the hall where the Qualms await us. They start off down the hall, and I follow behind them.

  Once we’ve escaped the pink fog, Tracey stumbles to a stop. Why do I feel like I sexually assaulted you?

  I pull her to keep moving. We’ll talk about it later.

  Hand clutched around mine, realizing we’re likely walking the green mile, she asks, Where are we going?

  The direction they’re going, I say, pointing toward the Qualms. You feeling better?

  Yeah. Sorry about that.

  I hold in my laugh.

  The Qualms enter a door to our left. Two guards stand at the entrance but allow us to pass through. They’re tall and stocky, like most of the Qualm infested humans I’ve encountered. With the help of Tracey’s sight ability that’s now accessible to me without my tapping into her, I’m able to see beyond their façade. A Qualm resting in each of them, both, the human and the Qualm are please being conjoined.

  I take in a breath. The room’s warm and humid. The seven of us stand silent in the area, lit by a soft blue ceiling light. I shrug, throwing my arms out at my sides. “Now what?”

  “For years, we’ve lived among this land in silence, in peace, living amid the people of this realm,” their leader says, in an undertone that causes his words to hiss. “We do not care to harm this world nor its people, we desire to be a part of it. Our king came here first, eons ago, welcomed by a Seeress, Elbany. He discovered this realm has much to offer as we have much to give.” He extends a hand and a guard steps before it. “What we are doing does not harm the humans. It makes them stronger. We extend their life by decades, we cure their sickness, we expand their knowledge.”

  “They’re heaven on earth,” the guard says, modeling himself.

  “That is only the benefit we have toward humans,” the Qualm standing to the right of the leader says. It is nothing but dark mist and skeleton. “Imagine the extent of your kind, Nathan,” it says convincingly. “We not only enhance the body of the humans, but of all kinds. We can live freely, finally,” he cheers with glee, “on this land, as can any other creature that still hides in the dark.”

  “We will accomplish this, Nathan,” the leader cuts in. “We prefer to do so quietly and without harm. This is where we require you. Please?” it requests peacefully, clasping its hands before itself. “Help us make this transition easy for the beings that walk your world.”

  “No,” cuts from me before crossing my mind. “Not a chance.”

  Despair falls over the three. The leader shakes his head. “Maybe an example?” it offers, but I don’t care. The only reason Tracey and I haven’t taken our exit is because of the two guards.

  The waitress was right, I’ve not fueled since Michael, and my Burdened is weak. I’ve not had time to go out for fuel, and I can’t allow him to feed on Tracey. It’s wrong. So, in this state, I know those two would overpower me and there’s no way I’m losing a fight in front of my mate.

  “Please,” the leader commands, “join us.”

  Through a door behind them enters my aunt Cynt, and beside her, her deceased husband, Donald.

  “Wait,” Tracey interjects. “I thought it didn’t work out for him. They couldn’t find a suitable match for you, Mrs. Waturstrom. Double wait!” She shakes her head, as her hands are raising, palms forward. “How are you alive . . . ?” Her words fade off, flooded by a thought. Hand flying over her mouth, she mutters, “Oh my gosh.”

  Clue me in, Sparks.

  That is not your aunt, Nate.

  “It’s better when the being and the Qualm are able to merge with each other. This is the hardest part, as it appears you have witnessed, Seeing. However, this would not be an issue with you, Nathan. You have the ability to manage the mindset of anyone before you. You can provide freedom and pleasure where there is none. You can bring acceptance onto this land and we”—It motions to its colleagues.—“can, too, live in peace, in a land of color, in a world of opportunity where joy exists and happiness saves lives, and love conquers wickedness.”

  “Yeah . . .” I drone. “The answer’s still no. She nor I are helping you overtake our world. I don’t care what we or you can gain from it. There’s separation from wherever you came from for a reason. So, mist your way back there, and leave us alone.”

  Anger replaces the eager feeling in the room. The mist circling within their robes whips around faster, and I can hear the particles scraping against each other. “You will regret that, Nathan. You will side with us, or your life’s cycle will repeat. A life you’ve grown to believe is your beginning and your end. A reality you will forever wish for relief from. Choose to side with us, Seeing of Death. Let us show things you’ve not yet seen, and you will see that we are your past, your present, and your future. You will see we are your only option.”

  Tracey talks over him. “You’ve heard his answer. Now move.”

  With the wave of his hand, the lot of them disperse from the room, leaving the door open for our exit.

  “Are you two okay?” Little Nathan and Taylor rush us with concern. “We were banging on the door, but no one answered,” Taylor adds. She survey’s the empty room lit by the soft blue ceiling light.

  I meet her worried gaze. “We’re fine. It’s nothing,” I say. “Let’s go home.” With a request, just like earlier, they disperse. If they want us so badly, why do they never put up a fight. What’s their play?

  Hold Me Tight Or Don’t

  Nathan

  I don’t pull out of the parking lot right away. With Little Nathan and Taylor in the backseat and Tracey in the passenger’s, I look them over.

  “What?” Little Nathan asks.

  “They let us just walk away. For who knows how long they’ve been possessing our friends, interrupting our lives, and tracking us down to get us to join their squad. They even kidnapped you!” I say to Little Nathan. “They’ve demanded we be a part of this overtaking, but they let us go with a simple ‘no,’ and we’re able to walk out of there without even raising a fist?” I twist in the seat and meet each of their gazes once. “That’s not off-putting to you all?”

  “From day one,” Tracey adds, “when they invaded my dreams, everything about them seemed odd. Nothing makes sense from them needing us to accomplish helping them ease into the lives of the living, from them threatening us or trying to coerce us with unobtainable promises. It’s like they don’t know us at all, but believe they know what we want.”

  “What if you two have it wrong. . ?” Taylor takes a pause, stuck in thought.

  “What?” Tracey pushes.

  “Go home!” Taylor shouts. “Go home now!” She reaches from the back to the front of the car and turns the key. She shoves my leg, forcing me to press against the brake, and shifts
the car in drive.

  “Okay. Okay! I’m doing it! Sit back.” I take over and drive away as Tracey and Little Nathan try to calm her down.

  “Talk to us, Taylor,” they say.

  “Just get us home, Nathan,” she begs, drowning in tears.

  I do ninety to the house. Not a door out of place or a window broken through. “Okay. What’s up?” I ask a fleeing Taylor. She’s out of the car, racing into our home.

  There’s a cry, “No!”

  We race into the house. Tracey slips, smacking the floor in a pool of black blood. “What?” she mutters. “Whose blood is this?” she asks, trying to get out of it.

  We follow the river of what could pass as liquid obsidian around the stairs.

  Olar. He lies, slumped over, a Katana stuck out of his back and his decapitated head in his hands.

  Sweat beads along my forehead and heat rushes around my neck. For a moment, it’s choking. I’m on the floor, knees deep in my cousin’s pain. I grab his limp hand. Dead weight. Cold.

  “The fuck happened to you?” is a whisper.

  He’s been like this so long the slash in his neck has stopped draining.

  Tracey gasps. She jumps to her feet and races for the stairs. Whatever’s started a panic in her, I’m chasing after her, not going to let her go through whatever it is alone. I follow behind her, up the stairs to the hall.

  I use the wall to catch my balance. I clear my throat to choke back my gulp. My Burdened recoils in a deep place as Tracey’s sorrow bursts through me. I collapse to the floor.

  She hunches over Jason’s body, wails like a siren to the silence. “What did we do?” she screams, tearing another seam from my stitching that’s easily unraveling. “What did we do . . . ?”

  I say to myself, “Where’s Taylor?” It takes an excerpt of strength to lift myself from the floor. I stumble to Taylor’s room and instantly retract, needing to grab the door panel to stop myself from falling backward.