Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Nadia Scrieva

  She exhaled as she tried to clear the intense images and emotions from her mind. The nightmare had been unusually realistic. It was surely born of the guilt from using magick to create Para. She lifted her hands to cup her face, sliding her fingers under her bangs and massaging her scalp. It still surprised her how short her hair was. Everything the creature said had been false. If there were any Asura remaining, they certainly had no interest in her. She was mostly human, and hardly a threat. She was hardly of importance on the hierarchy of power in the world.

  Yet it made sense that performing the spell to create Para would attract the Asura. It made sense that such a massive output of energy would seduce her enemies into sending demons to mess with her already messed up head, and play on her weaknesses. It made sense, but it was not real. It had just been a nightmare.

  Pax flung the covers off her legs and levitated out of bed. She picked up her purse, and dug for her phone. Although it was the middle of the night, she speed-dialed her father. He was in a different time zone, on the other side of the world. When there was no response, she closed her eyes and tried to contact him with her mind.

  Papa? she asked, searching for him.

  Paxie! How’s life in America?

  It’s fine, she responded. I just had a nightmare about the Asura.

  I’m sorry, sweetie. It was just a dream—don’t worry. I’m training with Sakra, and we would know if there was any trouble amiss.

  Pax immediately felt better. Thanks, Papa.

  Is everything else good? No exciting news for your old man?

  Nothing important is happening, Pax answered.

  How’s Thorn doing? That boy still treating you well?

  Pax lowered her chin miserably, grateful that her father couldn’t see her facial expressions. Yes. Everything is fine. I have to go now. I love you, Papa.

  Take care, kiddo.

  Rubbing her hands along her arms to ease the gooseflesh created from her nightmare, Pax exited her room and walked into the corridor. Her bare feet padded against the ground gently as she headed to the bathroom, intending to soothe herself with a hot shower. She flicked on the bathroom lights and looked at her face in the mirror.

  There was a spot of red liquid smeared on her chin. Pax frowned, reaching up with two fingers to wipe off the smudge. She used her thumb and forefinger to test the sticky consistency of the liquid before bringing it to her nose to sniff it. Blood and saliva.

  In a panic, she exited the bathroom and ran down the hallway to Amara’s master bedroom. Throwing the door open, she saw the small blonde girl curled up in her bed. Pax ran over to her friend and wiped the gunk off her hands before feeling Amara’s neck for a pulse.

  “Paxie?” Amara mumbled in her sleep. “What gives?”

  Pax breathed a sigh of relief. Amara was completely unharmed. “I had a nightmare,” she told her friend. “There was this demon with bloody saliva, and then I thought I found some of it on my chin…”

  “Was just a dream, silly,” Amara said sleepily. “You probably bit your lip.”

  “That was probably it,” Pax said, nodding, “but he mentioned the Asura…”

  “You can sleep here if you’re freaked out,” Amara suggested.

  Pax normally would have been too prideful to accept an offer like this, but she was not only afraid for herself. “Thanks, Mara,” she said, climbing into the gigantic bed with her friend.

  “Remember, we have to do Para stuff tomorrow,” Amara said with a yawn. “You need to get more sedatives to make her seem more weak and human.”

  “Sure. I will.” Pax was having difficulty thinking about Para at the moment. The dream was still haunting her. She lay on her back and crossed her arms, imagining the demon and trying to remember the things it had said, even though they were slipping away. The chilling aftermath was beginning to fade, and she realized that she had been foolish to believe it was real. The memories were all becoming hazy as they were overpowered by the onset of new dreams.

  Chapter 6: Some Unfinished Business

  Asher rose to his feet quite suddenly, knocking over their bottle.

  “Hey, watch it!” Thornton said with annoyance. “Just because you didn’t have to pay for this stuff…”

  “Thorn, it’s her. She’s back.” Asher’s voice carried undertones of reverence.

  Thornton turned to look in the direction that Asher was staring. The woman with the knee-length indigo hair had entered the VIP lounge again. She was wearing a stylish black number with rhinestone details on the straps and waistband. Once more, black gloves extended all the way up to her elbows. Her style was muted, but elegant.

  After days of aimless club-hopping, the men had confined themselves to Tryst in hopes of encountering the woman who had rejected them again. They both felt the pressing need to take care of some unfinished business, and it had just arrived.

  “Do not screw this up, Asher,” Thornton warned in a low voice as he followed his friend’s lead.

  Asher seemed to already be doing exactly that. He had reached out to place a hand on the woman’s shoulder to gain her attention, and Thornton felt that this was far too familiar a way to address a lady who seemed so uptight and formal.

  When she turned to face him, her face displayed surprise and pleasure. They saw the ghost of a smile play across her mysterious features. She lifted her gloved hand to snap her fingers as if trying to recall something. Finally she pointed upwards in recognition.

  “Ash Burnson,” she said.

  “You remembered my name,” Asher said with a huge smile.

  “How could I forget a name like that?” she said with a mischievous smirk. “It’s very… hot.”

  “Go on, make your jokes!” Asher said, raising his hands in surrender. “I heard them all when I was growing up. Someone turn on the air conditioning! Burnson just walked into the room. Ashes to ashes, eat my dust. Can I cook my dinner on your ass, Burnson? Oh Ash! I’m just burning with desire…”

  “I think I could probably come up with a few new ones if I gave it some thought,” she said with a bit of a flirtatious tone.

  Thornton frowned as he approached the pair. The woman was certainly acting friendlier than the last time they’d encountered her. She noticed his approach and nodded slightly in acknowledgement. “Mr. Kalgren. I fear I was a bit rude the last time we met.”

  “Please. My friends call me Thorn.”

  “Thorn. I like that,” she said with a smile. “Are there any jokes about your name?”

  “Every rose has them,” he answered without missing a beat. Now this was the casual flirting that he felt familiar with. He felt his confidence returning. “I must apologize if my friend and I were a bit forward with you the last time we met.”

  “I’m really sorry, miss,” said Asher, inclining his head in a gentle bow. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  Please. Like they mean these apologies, thought Para, but she only smiled and let her eyes shine at them trustingly. “It’s quite alright.”

  “Can we buy you a drink?” asked Thornton, gesturing to the corner booth where she had been seated last time.

  “That would be lovely,” said Para. “I usually have the chocolate martini.”

  “Delicious!” said Asher, cheerfully, as he moved to sit in the booth.

  I think I’m less sexually attracted to the guys when I am merged together, Para pondered as she slid into the booth beside Asher, maybe because I’m partly related to both of them. Asher made small talk with her until Thornton returned with the drinks and a handsome smile.

  “Thanks, Thorn,” she said kindly as she accepted the beverage.

  “You’re very welcome,” the blonde man said as he slid into the booth on the other side of Para. “I hope today you will think we are deserving of knowing your name.”

  Para studied Thornton, holding direct, steady eye contact with him for the first time through her new perspective. Although his baby blues were exactly the same, her own had been altered
, and what she saw was consequently new. She tried to fuse her old concept of this man with the man who now sat before her, but it was challenging. Big brother. I missed this; just sitting beside you and seeing your smile. Disloyal lover. There can be no punishment severe enough to avenge the hopeful parts of me that you have shattered. But I’m going to try anyway.

  “My name is Medea,” said Para, after briefly scanning her mind. She surprised herself with the choice. It was the name of a woman who had been betrayed by her husband in Greek mythology. Perhaps infidelity was a common theme, but what was uncommon about Medea was her capacity for vengeance. In every version of the story, she went to great lengths to achieve revenge on the men who had wronged her. Para could deeply identify with this—she would go to any lengths. The thought brought a lovely smile to her lips, and Thornton smiled back, enchanted.

  “Medea,” repeated Asher appreciatively, “that’s such a striking and unusual name.”

  “Thank you. Feel free to make jokes about it if you like.” She turned to Asher as she sipped on her martini, sending him a playful look. Her emotions combined and twisted quite differently as she observed him through her new lens. Both beings which resided in her body felt overwhelmed with affection for the man, but both were also overwhelmed with anger. It’s not fair to her, Ash. Why? Things were so good, and you were so cruel. She could not even look at him for a few seconds without feeling despondent, and she turned her gaze back down to the triangular silhouette of her martini glass. She reached out and began to run her finger around the rim of the glass in slow circles to distract her thoughts.

  “We were thinking of heading to a cool after-hours place in a bit. It’s very exclusive and hush-hush. Thorn’s got the hookups,” Asher said. “Wanna come with?”

  Wow, they move fast, don’t they? Para lifted her wrist to glance at her watch. “I wish I could but I can’t stay for very long. I have to run to the hospital soon.”

  “The hospital?” asked Thornton. “Are you a nurse?”

  This was the point where Pax would have normally snapped, Doctor! She had studied for the profession because of her grandmother’s wishes, mostly volunteering wherever she felt the need for her services. “I’m a resident doctor,” Para said. “I work on-call.”

  Amara and Pax had given this some forethought and decided to give Para the same job as Pax. It was the only job that could require someone to be so busy that they needed to be available 24/7 and rush away without warning. Thornton and Asher both knew how exhausting that stage of her career had been on Pax, and how she’d worked an average of far over 100 hours a week. The girls imagined that the guys were more likely to understand Para running off to separate with this excuse.

  “Wow, you look far too young to be a doctor!” was Asher's first remark. “I would have guessed you were nineteen when I first saw you, but you were drinking…”

  “Now that we know your name, you’ll have to let us know if you’re legal,” Thornton said with a smile.

  Of course, Para thought to herself. I forgot to plan this one. Well, I might as well lie about my age and say I’m a few years younger. I’m lying about everything else, and I can’t give any suggestions that I might not be human.

  “I'm 24,” she answered, improvising. “I skipped a few grades and graduated early. Crammed my semesters together. You know.”

  “Ah, you must be really sharp. I know residency can be very challenging,” said Thornton understandingly. He hesitated. His eyes shifted out toward the bar, and he seemed to be staring several thousand yards away. “My close friend is a doctor as well,” he said in a quiet voice.

  “Oh, is that so? Do I know him?” asked Para, wondering if he would mention one of her halves.

  “Her name is Pax Burnson,” said Thornton, downing a mouthful of his drink. “You might have heard of her—her mom was a famous actress in the nineties.”

  What the hell, Thorn? Are you using me as part of your game to pick up chicks? That’s sick. You must be getting really old and running out of ideas. Para nodded as she lifted her eyebrows. “Oh yes, I have heard of her. She volunteers in the ICU, right? She’s quite brilliant.”

  “Pax is actually my darling little niece,” Asher said fondly. “Thorn dated her for a while. They only recently broke up. It was messy. Very messy.”

  Thornton glared at Asher to shut up and Asher smiled at him sweetly. “Not quite as messy as your breakup with your ex-girlfriend,” contributed Thornton. “I believe you bled more than I did.”

  “Externally,” Asher stated solemnly.

  “It seems you gentlemen both have a lot of baggage. Troubled pasts?” asked Para. She leaned back against the cushioned seats, trying to keep a frown from her face and trying to keep her anger in check. Did I really make Thorn bleed internally? Anyway, this is fascinating. To hear them both talking about us without knowing that we’re listening.

  “Not baggage,” Thornton assured her. “Ancient history.”

  “Gotta make your mistakes, right?” Asher added. “What about you, Medea? Have you had any recent relationships?”

  Mistakes! I’ll show you what a mistake I was. Ancient history? Maybe, but things are about to get real contemporary. Para hid the pain she felt, and just smiled. “Not recently. I fear that I never really have the time for relationships. All I really have is a few minutes here and there to sit in a nice club and have a drink. Take a little time to fantasize about anything other than work…”

  “What do you fantasize about?” asked Asher softly, moving to pick up his drink and brushing his arm slowly against her arm.

  She stared down at his arm in surprise. So obviously intentional, Ash. Yet I feel this body responding to your touch. Dammit, Para, control. She turned to Asher, letting her eyelids flutter half closed with a sigh. “I dream of sandy beaches and tropical paradises. Staying in bed all day with someone I love, not having to work so hard. I dream of silly things… being rescued by someone strong from some kind of danger.”

  And I fantasize about hurting you both. A lot. A whole lot. Para opened her eyes and breathed deeply, looking at the men she was pressed in between. Their individual scents surrounded her, mingling to create a new pheromone that was so masculine it made her dizzy. She blushed and laughed lightly, returning to sipping her drink.

  “You know, the right kind of man can make all of those dreams come true,” said Thornton, moving a bit closer to her and letting his breath move her hair against her ear. “In an instant, all your money problems could disappear, and you could have all the time you needed. Life could be less difficult and filled with more… pleasure.”

  “Is that so?” she asked, turning to him curiously. She felt a bizarre combination of both disgust and arousal. Her stomach seemed to be doing flip-flops.

  “Of course. You just need to know the right people.” Thornton reached out to touch her satin-covered forearm, allowing his fingers to caress her slowly. “There’s nothing I find anything sexier than a woman wearing gloves.”

  She wanted to hit him. It took all of her resolve not to. For how long had Thornton been making propositions like this to strange women in bars? She wanted to cry. She wanted to rip off her glove and press her palm to his face, and scorch his skin until he melted. Until there was nothing left of him but a pool of liquid. He was strong, yes, but now that she had the combined power of both Pax and Amara, she was tough enough to take him on. How dare he?

  He had always told Pax that he didn’t mind her burned palms. He had called them battle scars, telling her that he wanted to be the one person that she didn’t have to wear her gloves around. When they were in bed together, he would press her bare hands against his body to demonstrate that she could not hurt him. And now here he was, complimenting a stranger for wearing gloves. Was nothing sacred? She felt bile rise in her throat. I can't do this. I have to get away from here.

  Her watch beeped and she looked at it thankfully. “Sorry gentlemen, I have to get going. Thanks for the drink and the conversation.”r />
  “Already?” asked Asher. He slid his hand onto her bare thigh and squeezed slowly. “Won’t you stay a few minutes longer?”

  She was surprised by the boldness of the motion, and the feeling of warmth that radiated from Asher’s hand, spreading through her thigh. Pax’s uncle knew many more advanced energy techniques than she did, and this was evidently how he employed them. She felt another hand placed on her other thigh, but this one slid a few inches higher, with the fingers resting just under the fabric of the hem of her dress. The touch sent shivers through her.

  “Come on. Skip work and spend some time with us,” Thornton pleaded as he continued to slide his fingers up her dress. Para looked up at his face, reading his expression.

  How shameless, Para thought to herself. She read the expressions on the face of each man. They must be communicating telepathically, she realized. They must be actually planning this. Thorn and Ash! What are you guys doing? This is so petty and low. They’re probably wondering who I’m going to choose.

  But this is working. You can’t touch a woman’s upper-upper thighs and send warm energy waves through her body without making her head spin a little. Para could not help it as her imagination created visuals of the men sliding their hands a little higher. She imagined how exquisite it would feel to have both of them touching her at the same time. The thought made her stomach roll over and her arousal intensified. She stretched back and wiggled in her seat a little, imitating discomfort, and they both removed their hands. She hoped that her movement would send the subtle scent of her own arousal to both of them, so that they could be as affected as she was.

  What if I choose both of you?

  “I’m so sorry. I have to go,” she said, looking at her watch nervously, even though there was plenty of time. She acted like she was uncomfortable, and tried to move out of the booth in the direction of Thornton, but he wouldn’t budge. “Please, excuse me,” she said, pushing her body against his, letting her breasts brush against him, but he still didn’t move. He only fixed her with a strange expression. Boner-face, Thorn? I never knew you liked to put your fingers under the skirts of strange women in bars.