Like the lie I’ve been living for two damn years.
“I’ll explain what’s going on,” Callen says, throwing my words back at me. “And I won’t let them hurt you, okay?”
“Okay,” I answer, brain broken. System failure. Blue screen of death.
“I think it’s better if we both explain,” says a fourth voice. A fourth voice that sounds almost identical to Callen’s. The man belonging to the voice is nearly identical to him, too.
There’s two of them. Twins. Four of them. All fucking twins.
Four.
Pentagram.
That’s how Dad knew. That’s how he’s been keeping tabs on me, biding his time.
The Devil really is an asshole.
9
Mother? As in my mother’s mother? My grandmother?
“Get inside,” Mom practically growled as she grabbed my arm and pulled me through the gate. The instant I crossed the threshold, I sensed her magick. Felt the shift in the air in the form of gooseflesh on my arms and the back of my neck.
“Claudia?” I asked, too dazed from the adrenaline crash, magick hangover, and my come-to-the-Devil moment where I almost gave myself up to say much else.
“Claudia left with her mother,” Mom snapped, her attention mostly on her surroundings and the woman behind us. My grandmother.
My heart sank, not because I betrayed Mom, made a deal with Dad, and got caught. Claudia was gone. I’d probably never see her again. I didn’t get to say goodbye. Didn’t get to tell her that her monster of a stepfather would never touch her again.
To most people, causing the level of trouble I had wouldn’t be worth it. The price was the world for a nobody, wrong-side-of-the-tracks girl. Nevermind the years of abuse she would’ve suffered. No telling the kind of suffering the world will endure if Dad ever made me his.
No matter what, it was worth it to me. Claudia would always be worth it.
I was only thirteen, but I was grown enough to know that I loved her. Not in a sexual way. In a soul-deep, meant-to-be kind of way. She was mine. My best friend. My only love. And she always would be.
“The Wardens are coming,” my grandmother said as we entered the house. “They’ll find Kate and—”
Mom’s grip on my arm tightened. I gasped from the pain of her nails digging into flesh. “I know!” she said, dragging me to my bedroom. When we stepped inside, she let go. “Where is it?” she insisted.
I rubbed my arm where she’d marked it. “Where is what?”
She yanked a drawer out of my dresser, spilling the contents onto the ground. “My grimoire?”
“Don’t you mean my grimoire?” Grandma corrected.
The ownership didn’t matter, the outcome was the same. “It’s gone.” Along with most of the tools I’d taken for the ritual.
“Gone?” Mom froze midway through dumping my underwear drawer onto my bed. “Like missing, gone?”
My eyes flicked between the two women. Older women. Wiser women. Far more powerful women. “Not missing. I know exactly where it is.”
Mom huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Then where?”
“Not here,” Grandma answered for me.
Boom!
A planet just hit the house, I’d have bet my life on it. So, how were we still alive?
“They’re here,” Mom said. “Pack a bag, Kate. Bare essentials. You’ve got three minutes.”
If anyone ever wanted to put their life into perspective, the best way to do it would be to give yourself one-hundred-eighty seconds to take what was important.
Underwear was the first thing I packed, along with my favorite shirt, some jeans, socks, a few toiletries, and a necklace Claudia gave me for my twelfth birthday. The last two items I grabbed were the most important. Save the best, and all that crap.
The first was a picture of Claudia and me taken when we were nine. We hadn’t been friends long, but Mom had let her spend the night. It was a huge deal considering I had zero friends and Claudia was mundane.
The second was the box I’d kept the grimoire in. There wasn’t much left in it, but having something only my blood could open would be essential to keep my most precious things safe.
After tossing the picture of Claudia and me inside, I closed the lid and crammed it into my bag. I’d barely managed to zip it up when Mom and Grandma came back.
“Where’s your bag?” I asked when I saw her hands were empty. Mostly empty. A crystal vial and small silver blade were the only things she held.
“I’m not coming with you.”
“What?” I shrieked in the way all teenage girls can.
“The Wardens won’t stop until they capture you,” she said.
“Kill her,” my grandmother corrected.
My mother ignored her. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can. You’re strong. You know how to survive. Here.”
Mom pulled a wad of hundred dollar bills from her back pocket, easily more money than I’d ever seen, let alone held.
“This should last until we can meet up again.” Something moved behind Mom’s eyes, a secret, a shadow. Something she didn’t want me to see.
The house shook. Trinkets fell off my dresser. The mirror above it cracked.
“Keep her safe?” Mom said to her mom, whose mother started the chain that led to this.
Grandma nodded. At some point, I would have to ask her name. Mom never spoke it. And it seemed strange to call a woman I’d never met something as intimate as Grandmother.
Mom’s arms wrapped around me, along with her scent. She squeezed tight, kissed the top of my head.
“Ouch!” I jumped when she pulled away, a tiny nick on my wrist from her silver blade.
She brought the crystal vial to my arm to catch a drop of blood. Instead of turning the clear liquid inside red, it became a nameless shade of black. Before I could ask what was happening, she drank the contents, dropped both the vial and the knife on the floor.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
This time, more than my mirror shattered. Whatever barrier that had been protecting us crumbled. Magick coated the air like a thick wet blanket. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
Mom hit her knees, a scream tearing from her throat. Terror shredded through me, stopped my heart. Had the Wardens gotten to her? Was she hurt? Were we all going to die?
The timbre of her shriek morphed into a more familiar tone. Her body changed, as well. Hair, skin, shape. Before my eyes, Mom turned into someone else.
Mom turned into me.
10
“Please don’t do this,” I beg Callen, beg his twin, though I know that’s stupid. No one has the power to change the past. Not even Dad. “Don’t tell me you’ve been lying this whole time.”
“What’s done is done,” Derion all but spits. “The quicker you accept it, the quicker we can all move the fuck on.”
“Ever the romantic,” Callen’s twin defends me. “How often does that line make a woman want to jump into bed with you?”
Derion crosses his arms. His muscles bulge through his shirt. “I don’t have any problem getting what I want. Unlike you. You’ve been whipped for what? Two years? And she never knew you existed until now.”
Derion shows teeth. Wicked isn’t a harsh enough word for his grin. “How was it, knowing every night your brother didn’t come home was a night he was getting what you wanted?”
Callen’s twin steps toward Derion, fist raised. Derion deserves a punch to the face. If it can’t be me, might as well be the new guy.
No. Wait. Old guy? New-old guy. He’s known me for the two years Callen’s dated me. At least, I think it was Callen dating me the whole time.
Callen puts a hand on his brother’s chest. “Now isn’t the time, Caleb.”
Caleb and I both deflate with disappointment at Derion getting away with his bullshit yet again. Well, I assume my disappointment is the same as his. No reason not to.
Dante steps in front of his twin. “Knock it off,” he says to both Caleb and Derion. “
This isn’t helping.”
Helping? Helping what?
In slow, steady circles, I rub my fingertips over my temples. “You four are un-fucking-believable.”
Derion scoffs. “What’s un-fucking-believable is that we all haven’t banged you yet.”
No. Scratch that. What’s un-fucking-believable is that this asshole thinks that line will get me in bed.
One minute, Derion’s being his typical douchebag self. The next, he’s flying down the hallway, busted lip dripping blood on my carpet.
There goes that security deposit.
“Disrespect her again.” Caleb steps in front of me. For someone who supposedly has not dated me for two years, he’s super protective. “Give me a reason to kick your ass, I beg you.”
“You’ll beg, that’s for damn sure.” Derion stands from the crouched position he took to prevent his fall. He swipes his thumb across his lower lip, licks the blood from his skin.
I can smell it from here. His blood. It calls to me. Beckons me. Promises me power beyond imagining. A sense of belonging and safety without measure.
I don’t remember telling my feet to move. For all I know, they didn’t. Maybe I pulled Derion to me. Maybe space contorted itself so we wouldn’t have to be so far apart.
How it happened doesn’t matter. Only his blood matters. To taste him. Claim him. Make him mine in every way. That’s all that exists.
Someone groans. It’s a desperate, soul-deep, wanton sound. A depraved mewling that makes me feel sorry for whoever has been made to crave such a thing, only to deny it.
The tang of copper fills my mouth. My tongue laps at the red ambrosia covering Derion’s lips. It isn’t enough. I could drink him dry, command him to live, and drain him again. It would never be enough.
His fingers fist painfully in my hair. They draw me closer, push me away. I bring his lip with me, caught between my teeth.
“Is that all I had to do to make you want me, Priestess?” His honeyed voice rumbles up my spine, molasses thick and just as slow. “Bleed for you?”
Bleed? Yes. And so much more. There is no end to what I’ll demand from him. What I’ll take from them all.
That thought is more sobering than lights up when you close down a club.
I pull away too fast for him to react. Strands of my hair rip from the root and dangle from his fingertips, loose strings from a cut marionette. Tears blur my vision. The world around me continues to spin. All I can do is stand still.
“Kate?” It’s Callen’s voice that cuts through the panicked confusion. Or Caleb. I can’t tell them apart.
Someone touches me. I don’t know who. Doesn’t matter. It’s enough to spook me.
I head toward the front door. Fuck, I hope this is the way to the front door. I need fresh air, a minute to compose myself, and a good scream.
Derion moves to block me. Dante makes sure he lets me pass.
I’m a damn idiot. All this time, I’ve seen the bond as a chain and collar around their throats. A way to bring them to heel at my feet. I’ve been too stupid to realize I’m the slave. I need them if I ever want to be strong enough to fight this deal with my father.
But I don’t want them to do it because they have to. Because the magick in their blood and my initials behind their ears demand it. If they want me, they have to choose me. And I them. Otherwise, our bond will never be strong enough to resist my father.
A Pentagram forged from trust, respect, and choice. That’s where the real power lies. I thought I had that with Callen. How am I supposed to trust someone who’s lied to my face for two years?
Granted, I lied, too. About my name. About who I really am. What I am.
The door opens behind me. I smell Callen before I hear him. “You okay, babe?”
I can’t face him when I ask, “Was anything we had real?”
His arms snake around me. Comfort. Familiar. Safe. Lies.
I step out of his grip, refuse to look at him. “Did you—” My face heats and my heart races at the question I struggle to ask. “Did you and Caleb ever…trade off? With me?”
A heavy sigh sounds from over my shoulder. I bet Callen’s running his hands through his gorgeous dirty blond hair. It’s what he always does when I make him tell me something he’d rather not.
“In the beginning, when we first started…uh, dating. Yeah. We did.”
I whip around to face him too quickly. I’m still dizzy from the magick hangover and whatever the hell happened between Derion and me. Every time I lick my lips, I taste him. His blood. His magick.
“Whoa. Easy.” Callen steadies me, then quickly lets go. “I know you well enough to know this situation stresses you out. It’s a lot to take in.”
“You think?” I say, all bitch with zero give.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “I get that this is a shock, and what I’m about to say is the last thing on your mind.”
He moves in close, invades my space with his damn body heat and pure male sexuality.
“I hate the idea of sharing you when you’ve been mine for the past two years. But you need to mate your soul-sworn, form your Pentagram, and claim your Priestess title. Magick has a cost. You aren’t meant to shoulder that burden alone.”
“I’ve mated you,” I argue, as if I can reason myself out of this somehow.
His eyes harden, and his brow creases when he says, “It doesn’t count. It won’t count until you do the ritual with them and then with us.” His hard gaze cuts to our apartment, to the two men inside born to be mine.
“It counted to me.” Pushing up on my tip toes, I bring my lips to Callen’s and almost moan at how amazing he tastes. To think, I took him for granted all this time, took for granted what we had. It was what I needed. It’s what I still need, not that we can ever go back.
Claudia needs me, too. My father will never let me go. And the call of Derion and Dante’s blood is too strong to resist. I’m so tired of fighting. Even more tired of running and hiding.
Callen’s gentle fingers brush my jaw, dance around to the back of my neck the way they have for the past two years. In the way that always gets me wet between the thighs. He knows how to touch me, has taken his time to get to know every inch of me. Was it ever about me? Or was I just some assignment?
My body’s reaction is the same as it always is. My mind refuses to go there. “Stop.” I push him away. “Don’t think I don’t realize this is a distraction from the question I asked. I want to know how many times I was with you, and how many times I was with your brother.”
Callen can’t look at me when he answers. “I don’t know, Kate. A few? It was only at the beginning, when we were getting to know you. When you wouldn’t have been able to tell us apart.”
I hate that my life is fucked up enough for the next question that leaves my lips. “How did you two decide who would…you know?”
“Be with you?” he offers.
“No. Fuck me and lie to my face.”
Callen winces as if I’d just smacked him. It’s tempting.
“I fell for you,” Caleb answers, stepping up next to his brother. I hadn’t heard him come out the front door.
Suddenly, the small porch just got smaller. And hotter. Definitely hotter.
“You fell for me?” I say, mocking the notion that’s even possible. “Or you fell for what I could give you?”
Caleb sticks his thumbs into the pocket of his jeans, which pulls them down in the front, which shows off his abs. Not that I’m looking. I’m not. Definitely not.
“We knew we’d eventually make up the third and fourth point of your Pentagram,” he says.
I cock an eyebrow. “You knew?”
Caleb and Callen aren’t my soul-sworn. They were never guaranteed to be in my Pentagram. A Priestess gets to choose two, and two are chosen for her. It’s true that certain warlocks are predisposed to be a good match for certain Priestesses, but it’s supposed to be her choice. My choice.
Caleb clears his throat. “We hoped,”
he corrects. The distinction doesn’t make any of this better. “It’s true, the promise of sharing your power is appealing. But that’s not what I mean. The more we got to know you—I got to know you, the more I started to feel attached.”
I laugh because what the hell else can I do? “Wow. Wow. I can’t believe you’re trying to manipulate me like this. Trying to play up fake emotions to—”
The warm heat of Caleb’s mouth silences me. I don’t want to, but I can’t help opening to him. Kissing Caleb is nothing like kissing Callen. There’s passion and fire from both of them, true. But everything about Caleb’s mouth on mine tells me that what he wants and what he feels is more profound than anything I’ve had so far, even with his brother.
It tells me he wasn’t lying. He wants me. Chooses me. That’s what I’ve needed from all of them. Right now, I’ll take it from one of them.
Caleb’s also right about another thing. He and Callen complete my Pentagram. Fill the dark hole inside put there by my birthright, magick, and denial.
It’s time to fill that hole, and I know four men willing to do just that.
11
The dying sound of Mom-Me’s shriek was drowned out by the crack of wood as our front door smashed apart.
I stared at her, at me, unable to process what in hell just happened. The look on her face—my face—didn’t match how I felt inside. Confusion, anger, fear were all absent. They’d been replaced with determined acceptance.
She knew something I didn’t, a fact that I hadn’t accepted. Yet.
Someone grabbed my arm. Shit! The Wyka had caught us. A scream bubbled up my throat until Grandmother turned me to face her. My heart beat like a jackhammer against my chest, and I couldn’t breathe.
“We need to move,” she said, her grip tightening. “I’ll get her somewhere safe,” she said to Mom.
Safe? Was there such a thing, anymore?
I tried to move. I did. My feet refused to budge. Refused to leave Mom-Me to clean up the real me’s mess. I’d made a deal with Dad to avenge Claudia. Mom shouldn’t have to face the Wardens for that. It should be me. Perhaps I could reason with them. Maybe I could turn myself over, and they could protect me from Dad.
Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 94
