Plight: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 1)

by Felisha Antonette

  With the night’s darkness cast over the land, Ealander’s eyes have an electric glow. I gulp as his gaze flicks over at me for a third time. “On the contrary.” His light voice takes on a dark tone. “My kind is well under control and not in debt to the universe. We don’t owe for deaths.”

  “No.” Scott snorts. “You just cause them.”

  “As have you.” The man standing next to him with the dirty-blond hair cuts in. “Do not stand here like you two are the innocent ones. Your names are at the top of the list for a reason. We aren’t here for nothing, and it’s time you pay up.” He looks past his shoulder at me. “With your lives or theirs.”

  What? I keep myself from jumping to my feet.

  Nathan faces him. “Corieen.” He shakes his head, finishing, “That is a dark road you do not want to go down.”

  “You can’t have this, Nathan. You know you’re forbidden against it. The same goes for your sister.” His voice grows louder. “All three of you, born to your family. We are right to be here, and we are right to handle this now!”

  “I advise you to lower your voice, eel,” Scott spits.

  Corieen stares at him, then back at Nathan. “You will speak now or die.”

  Scott turns his back to Nathan and faces the third man. “You too, Josen?” he asks.

  Josen nods with a frown on his smooth face and piercing eyes.

  “Nathan, don’t do this. It won’t end well for you. That is not a threat,” Ealander promises.

  Over my skin, I feel Nathan’s hardened; every inch of his body warps with a diamond-like substance. Maybe the defensive shield that he’d mentioned earlier is covering him.

  I shift my attention, hearing Scott ask, “What was it that you came here to discuss exactly?”

  “Nothing!” Josen spits, snatching Scott up by his neck.

  I gasp and remind myself to stay quiet. It’s hard to sit still while people I care about fight. I want to jump in and throw a few punches at our now enemies, but I don’t.

  Nathan throws a punch to Corieen, sending him stammering back, grabbing his nose.

  Ealander, with eyes glowing electric silver, shakes and the air around him buzzes.

  Nathan retracts, looking him over. Not knowing what Ealander’s going to do, in one swift movement he draws his knee back and rams his foot in Ealander’s chest. Ealander flies back with a gust of blazing air erupting from him. Nathan jumps out of its path, stumbling over Scott who’s been dropped by Josen. Scott stands, prying Josen’s severed hands away from his neck and tosses them aside.

  Corieen charges Nathan, sending the same kick to him Nathan had delivered to Ealander. Nathan spins out of the way of his attack, snatching his leg as he twists and hurls Corieen a few feet away from their brawl.

  Ealander has risen, rushing back in the fight. His punches are electric, silver strikes of light sparking off his fists as he throws blows at both Nathan and Scott. Josen, too, joins the battle.

  Shit! I scramble to my knees, stopping myself from running when I spot Corieen headed my way. I hold my scream. Nathan! I don’t know why he doesn’t want me to speak, but I’m not willing to risk it.

  Leaving Scott, Nathan comes up behind Corieen. He seems to know Nathan’s on his heels. He whips around, grabbing Nathan’s extended arm. Nathan twists in the opposite direction, throwing his elbow into the back of Corieen’s neck. Before Corieen can recuperate Nathan twirls him to his front, but Corieen’s prepared, punch ready for Nathan’s occupancy. He jabs and jabs, missing as Nathan dodges his blows. On his fourth, Nathan’s eyes turn night-blue with a faint light within them, making them easy to see in the dark. His focus stops the punch before it connects with his face. Electric currents flare from Corieen’s fingertips as his hand moves to his own chest, and he reaches inside himself.

  My mouth falls open as Corieen’s fingertips burn through his own flesh. I swallow hard, keeping back my sickness.

  His skin burns and separates as he digs in and pulls his hand out with his own heart pumping in his palm. It bubbles and sizzles until it’s ash. Corieen’s body goes limp, and Nathan drops him in the sand. He concentrates on the corpse for less than a second, and it erupts into sand, joining the crushed shells on the beach.

  I swallow hard and wipe my hands off on the blanket.

  “Nathan!” Scott yells.

  Ealander and Josen have Scott surrounded. Ealander gets Scott in a headlock, struggling to hold him down while Josen has the electric current flowing from his nubs, pressing them against Scott’s face. Nathan races over, grabbing Ealander by the sides of his head. An ear-splitting yelp breaks from Ealander as Nathan crushes his skull. With Nathan’s concentrated gaze on the limp body, it, too, joins the sand.

  Josen is left to Scott.

  Scott shoves him, and he flies backward, landing in the sand on his feet. The sand gathers around his heels, and his lethal glower shows he’s ready for Scott’s attack. Scott prowls toward Josen, bottom jaw morphing animal-like.

  Tracey, look at me, Nathan yells in my mind.

  I do but turn back, curious to know what the hell is about to happen.

  Tracey, look at me! he says again.

  Scott’s closing the distance to Josen, prowling like a lion taunting his prey.

  Nathan appears in front of me, on his knees, chest blocking my view. A cold, manly shriek bleeds through the air. I try to see around Nathan, but it’s no use. Another agonizing cry cuts in over the splashing of the water. It’s shortened by a gurgling sound filling me with sickening nausea. Something hits the sand.

  Nathan expels an angry breath as he lowers. His eyes are swirling from night to brown. “I’m sorry.”

  I knit my brows, unable to tear my stunned gaze away from him.

  “I’m sorry too.”

  I jump, surprised by Scott suddenly kneeled beside me, no evidence of a battle anywhere on him.

  Nathan turns as Scott grabs my attention, and when I turn back to him, he’s facing me. “Thanks,” he tells Scott, keeping my eye contact.

  Scott stands. “No thanks needed,” he says and leaves us, heading back the way he came.

  “Freaked?” Nathan asks, discarding his reach for my hand. “I tried to ward it off. I didn’t want to do that in front of you.”

  I drop my gaze to my shaking hands and then lift it to the rising moon. The scattering light of the atmosphere colors it orange, and its autumn shine bathes the beach and our skin. I wince when I look back at Nathan and have to turn away. It freaked me out seeing what he’s capable of; mind-possession, strength to crush skulls, turning dead bodies into sand. That’s a completely different side than what happened at the party. The restraint he had to have used with Brett. . . Seeing it―him―do those things causes a cautious shiver to climb up and down my spine. “Are you okay?” I utter, scraping my sweaty, sand covered palms over my pants.

  He nods, sitting beside me. “Touching you is cool?”

  “Yes, Nathan. There’s nothing you can do to make me not want you.”

  He takes my hand and laces our fingers, causing the remaining sand to scrape and dig into my skin. “Thank you.” He kisses my temple.

  Everything eases; my nerves and nausea drift away. But sitting out here no longer settles well with me. “You ready to go?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he answers, jumping to his feet.

  We snatch up the blankets and head for the house. “Are you going to tell Scott we’re going in?”

  “Yeah.” There’s a pause. “Just did. They’ll sit out here for a little while longer. Then they’re staying overnight. You okay with that?”

  “Sure.”

  He nudges my arm with his. “Sorry I messed up our night outdoors. We could have popcorn and watch a movie.”

  I give him a small smile, but I love his suggestion. As long as there are no more surprise visitors.

  We head back to the house, and the feeling of uncertainty resurfaces, knotting my stomach. I cut Nathan off from telling me about the movies in their collec
tion. “Why don’t you wake up with me?”

  His jaw works as he grits his teeth, and my shoulders tense because of his doing so. “What are you getting at?” he remarks, offhanded. He looks away from me, blocking the color of his eyes.

  I shrug, keeping my shoulders high as I say, “I’m just asking a question,” before I let them fall.

  “But that’s not the question you’re trying to ask.” It’s obvious I’ve made him uncomfortable, but his response is so blank, I don’t know for sure. It’s hard to get a read on him.

  “Nathan, just answer the question. You kill me with how you beat around the bush.” He looks at me with a slight squint. I finally understand why he does this. He’s reading my mine! “Get out of my head,” I warn, shooting him a piercing glare.

  “We’ll talk when we get in the house.”

  I roll my eyes. There’s always some perfect time to discuss this stuff. Why must we always wait? I bite my tongue for the rest of our walk.

  We make it back in his house, and Nathan dumps the blankets down what looks to be a laundry chute in the hall near the basement’s door. He grabs the bag of snacks from me, and I hand it to him in a way so we can’t touch. Noticing, he clenches his jaw, and his nostrils flare. It’s so hot on him he almost distracts me from why I did it.

  He turns from me, placing the bag on the island, not bothering to unpack it.

  Without speaking, he goes to a cabinet and preps our popcorn and drinks. The cabinets and fridge close with thuds and slams. His mini tantrum is cute.

  Nathan looks back at me, catching me watching him. Turning back around, he smirks, shaking his head. He grabs the bowl of popcorn and glasses and nods for me to take the two-liter of orange soda and the bowl of ice from the counter. “Come on,” he says coldly and leaves the kitchen.

  On our journey to Nathan’s room, he stops by a den and grabs two movies. They’re tucked under his arm. I miss what he selected.

  I set the pop and ice on his desk and bend over to take off my shoes. Nathan’s at my left, doing the same, nearly standing on top of me. “Umm, can I get some space?” I ask jokingly.

  “Umm, can you stop acting like you can’t touch me?”

  “I will after you answer my questions. Touching you will make me forget.” I don’t know how it works, but I’ve noticed that the softest kiss or the simplest touch has been able to change my mind and impact my moods. I’ve dropped many subjects aloud and in my mind over which I didn’t have control.

  “If I wanted you to forget your questions, I wouldn’t have to touch or kiss you,” he remarks, expression vacant but stoic.

  I cover my head with my arms. “I don’t know where you’re going with this, but you better not.”

  He laughs. “What are you doing?”

  “Protecting my head from you infiltrating it and making me forget. Or whatever you’re going to do.”

  “Oh yeah,” he sings, “You covering your head will definitely stop me.” He pulls my arms to my sides. “I wouldn’t do that to you anyway. Go sit down while I set up the movie and popcorn.”

  I sit on his comfortable king-sized bed, sinking into the mattress. I could get used to this room.

  “What are you saying, Tracey?”

  I roll my eyes. “Get out of my head, Nathan!” I change my thoughts, pondering how ready I am to change my jeans into something more comfortable. A shower would be great.

  “Grab a shower. There are clothes for you in the top drawer of the dresser that’s next to you.”

  Did he actually fill a drawer with clothes for me?

  “Yes.”

  I grumble, standing from the bed. “Would you please cut that out.” Trying to leave my mind blank, I go to my drawer stuffed with panties, bras, tanks, socks, jeans, and a few shirts. I fight my smile and grab a pair of panties, a bra, a tank, and from the drawer below mine, I steal a pair of his drawstring shorts. Leaving to the bathroom, I keep my thoughts extremely blank as I shower.

  With my clothes tucked under my arm, I enter a Nathan-less room. The bowl of popcorn is on the bed and the filled cups are on the nightstands. I pick up the movie case from the TV stand on my passing. The Taking of Pelham 123 with Denzel Washington and John Travolta is waiting to play on his sixty-inch screen. “Who needs this big a TV in their bedroom, Nathan?” I mumble to myself, setting the case down. On my way to the bed, I drop my dirty clothes by my shoes. The second I my head falls against the headboard, Nathan comes back, still wet from his own shower. He rubs a towel over his head and dabs at droplets of water rolling down his swollen chest. I’m certain he randomly does pushups throughout the day just for the pump.

  “Where can I put my clothes?” I ask, trying not to check him out.

  As he drags the towel over his neck, he says, “Open that door over there.” He points by the desk to a door in the corner. “It’s a closet, and there is a laundry basket next to the door.”

  I jump from the bed and scoop up my clothes. Pulling open the door, I hurriedly shut it. No way! I crack it open and peek inside, making sure I saw what I think I did. Stunned, I swing the door open wider. “Nathan. Your closet is the size of my room,” I marvel.

  “Yeah. It’s over the top. But it came with the room, so. . .”

  I admire his well-organized wardrobe. The small selection of suits and dress shoes versus the overflow of T-shirts and sneakers. An opened drawer displays his designer watch collection. I reach for one, but avoid touching it. They look too expensive to touch.

  “Tracey, that closet is not going anywhere.”

  “What are you saying, Nathan?” I mock him.

  “Put your clothes in the laundry basket and get out of the closet. Come on. I’m pressing play.”

  Since he wants to act like that, I know how to make him shut up.

  “What are you saying, Tracey?”

  “Nothing,” I say, climbing on the bed. “All I know is, when I wake up, you better be next to me. Or, give me a reason, now, why you can’t.”

  He grabs the remote from the TV stand and as he crosses the floor, the cuts in his waist move in sync with his steps. Muscles pulling and crunching, his six-pack flexes as he climbs on the bed, and arms bulge when he applies his weight in his crawl forward. “What do you mean by that?” he asks.

  I chew on my lip. “You should put on a shirt so I can remember.”

  He gives me a cocky smirk and my insides turn to mush as I sigh. “No, I think I’ll leave it off. Are you uncomfortable?”

  Looking away from him, I mutter, “No. But you will be. Thought you were pressing play?”

  The movie starts. He throws a handful of popcorn in his mouth before he asks, “Have you seen this movie before?”

  “Nope.” And I don’t plan to see it this time either.

  He flicks his gaze to me and then away. “What’s on your mind, babe?”

  I sit up on my knees. “I want you to tell me the truth. Tell me what’s going on. Don’t treat me like Scott’s treating Glen. There’s more to this, and I’m obviously being left out of something.”

  He sits up, placing his back against the headboard and moves the bowl to the nightstand. “I don’t treat you like Scott treats Glen,” he defends.

  “I watched you do some crazy stuff today, some stuff that freaked me out, and other things that scared the crap out of me. I didn’t want to bring it up, but I have to be honest with myself. I don’t understand what happened today or why it happened, but I saw it happen. I saw a part of you I never wanted to see, but it changed nothing.” I take a deep breath, making sure I have my words together. “Tell me what it is you’re keeping from me. Tell me what’s so bad about this bonding thing and what we are now. Tell me everything.”

  Nathan studies me before nodding. He says, “Now you have a choice. You can choose to stay, or you can choose to leave. You can understand the difference within your own feelings for me, with no interference from me.” He shrugs. “I appreciate that you accept me and that seeing some of the real me didn’t s
care you away. But I don’t want you to be obligated to me. And if we do those things and become bound, you will be.”

  I crease my brows. “You don’t want to be obligated to me?”

  “I’m already obligated to you. I’m with you forever because your heart beats for me,” he insists. “I’m talking about you. After we are bound, you’ll never be able to leave me.”

  “Can I leave you now?” I interject.

  He shrugs. “If you wanted to.”

  “But I don’t want to.”

  “But you may want to.”

  “After what?”

  His brows furrow as he scoffs, “What do you mean, after what?”

  “After what will I want to leave you?”

  He shrugs, turning down the corners of his mouth. “After nothing!”

  “Exactly. How much worse can you get?”

  “Much worse.” His piercing eyes swirl amber as he scrutinizes me. “What happens if I try to kill you?”

  Halted, that settles, and the question repeats in my mind. “Will you try to kill me?”

  “No! But I―”

  “But nothing, Nathan. What is it? Can you just tell me? I’m already attached to you. You’re already in my heart and every other inch of my mind and body. I already want you more than I want to breathe. And every time you’re gone and not around me, I can’t breathe anyway.” He tries to turn away from me, and I stop him. “What could be worse than you denying me and my feeling like I was going to die? Then you accept me, but every time I wake up, it’s like it was all taken away again. I don’t understand this. Either you’re with me, or you’re not. Stop dragging me along.”

  “Tracey, why are you saying this? Everything is fine the way it is, is it not? Why do we need to change it?”

  Looking away from him to the TV, I sigh. If there is no difference in being mated to being bound, what’s the big deal? Is there something about him so much worse than what he’s informed that he thinks once I find out about it, I’ll change my mind about him?

  “Maybe,” he responds to my thought.

  “Why?”

  “Look, Tracey, I’m not human, and I’m filled by demon, feared by everyone, and capable of things my family doesn’t even know I can do. I don’t want to risk your life because of my stupidity. Once we bind, I’ll change. Everything will change. Life—.” He takes a breath and runs his finger through his still damp hair. “Life becomes more dangerous. More will be after us, trying to kill us. Trying to kill you. They won’t just be after me anymore. Now, when you hurt, only I hurt. After the bond, when I’m in pain, you’ll feel it heavily. When I change, you will change. And a while from now, we may have a family, and our child may be Burdened, and they’ll have to deal with what I had to growing up.” He leans back, averting his gaze to the TV. “And you have your family. You wouldn’t live with them anymore. You would want to―need to―move in with me.”