Shadow Kissed: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (The Witch's Rebels Book 1)

by Sarah Piper

  I swayed a little on my feet, pressing closer to Ronan’s rock-hard body. He was shorter than Darius, but solid and warm, a man who’d have no trouble holding me down.

  And I was pretty sure he already had a hold on my heart.

  “Ronan?” I dug my fingers into his shoulders, willing myself to be strong. To be brave. “I think… I think I’m in—”

  “I think you’re drunk,” he said plainly. “And as your friend, I’m going to spare you the future embarrassment of whatever it is you’re about to say.”

  He glared at me, his eyes still hot with desire. After a beat, he jerked his head toward the elevator, then released me, stalking out ahead.

  The crowd of vampires entering the club parted to let him pass.

  My body felt his absence immediately, and I shivered.

  Behind me, Darius laughed, deep and silky. “I guess that didn’t go as planned.”

  I huffed out a sigh. Rejection was one thing. Rejection in front of an audience was a whole ’nother level of mortification.

  “Have a lovely evening, Miss Desario,” he said. “I'll be in touch."

  “Touch yourself, vampire.” Smirking, I turned away from him and pushed my way through the crowded bar to the elevator, riding it up to the street level alone.

  Ronan and his devastating scowl were waiting for me outside.

  That night, these were the things I knew about Ronan:

  I knew he’d taken care of me when I had no one else—that he was taking care of me still.

  I knew I would go to hell and back for him, and he’d do the same for me.

  And I knew that other than Sophie, he was the only person I trusted with my life.

  Didn’t mean we knew each other’s secrets.

  I stole a glance at him as we walked down Denton Street, wishing I could read him the way Sophie could read me. I studied the sharp planes of his face, the purposeful stride of his steps, the hunch of his shoulders beneath his fitted black peacoat. His eyes were hidden in shadow, just like his thoughts.

  I’d never worked up the courage to ask about his origins, and he’d never offered to tell. It was one of those things we just didn’t talk about, like where he went when he disappeared for days at a time, and what my life was like before I came to Blackmoon Bay, and what the hell had been going on between us lately.

  Over the years we’d developed an unspoken understanding: some things were just better left unsaid.

  “So,” he said now, “You gonna tell me why the fuck you made a blood deal with Beaumont?”

  Ten

  Ronan

  I wasn't sure whether it was the cold air or my question, but as we cut through an open-ended alley toward her neighborhood, Gray sobered up pretty damn quick.

  “It’s nothing.” She rubbed the skin on her wrist, the exact spot where the vamp had stuck in his pointy little fangs. “He’s helping me with something.”

  Helping himself, more like it.

  I shook my head, trying to put my anger on ice. Beaumont wouldn’t do anything to hurt her—I knew that. He also wouldn’t let her take a blood oath unless something serious had gone down.

  My gut clenched.

  “Helping you with what?” I pressed.

  Gray shrugged, looking up at me just as we passed under a streetlight. The yellow glow overhead threw a harsh spotlight on the shiner under her eye.

  Fucking hell.

  I jammed my hands in my pockets, fighting the urge to touch her face.

  To kiss her.

  “It doesn't matter,” she said.

  “Does to me.”

  “Why?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “I just want to know.”

  ”Well, newsflash, Ronan. I'm not a book you can crack open and flip through whenever you feel like it.” Gray pushed past me and charged ahead, arms folded stiffly across her chest. Half a block down, she spun around and charged back at me, fire in her eyes. “I don't have to tell you shit, Ronan Vacarro.”

  “But I—”

  “No buts.” She jabbed me in the chest. “You disappear for days without so much as a text message, then you show up out of nowhere, tracking me down and demanding answers like a jealous boyfriend? I don’t think so."

  “Jealous? Of a bloodsucker? Come on, Gray. Give me a little credit.”

  “Then what’s your deal?”

  “No deal. I’m just looking out for you.”

  “Well… you can stop. What I do with my body—or my blood, for that matter—is none of your business. Good night, Ronan.” She charged ahead again. I let her go, just far enough to give her a little breathing room, but not so far that I couldn’t keep an eye on her.

  A jealous boyfriend…

  Yeah. If only it were that simple.

  Much as it pained me to admit it—and I never would, not out loud—Gray could do a hell of a lot worse than Beaumont for company. He made my blood boil on the best of days, but he was on the damn decent end of the bloodsucker spectrum, and he’d always looked out for Gray, just like Emilio and Asher had.

  We’d saved her life, the four of us. That kind of thing bonds people for eternity. Her memories of that time were murky at best, but eventually she would remember, and she’d find her way right back to them. To that deep, unbreakable bond. And one day on that distant horizon, if Gray decided Darius Beaumont or Emilio Alvarez or Asher O’Keefe was the man for her—hell, if she decided all three of them were—I’d never stand in the way of her happiness.

  I just wanted to be part of it.

  But I was playing with serious fire just thinking about crossing that line. One toe over the edge, and I’d likely get my ass smoked to oblivion, no chance at resurrection.

  A demon guardian falling for the woman whose soul he was charged with delivering upon her death? Forbidden didn’t even begin to describe it. Hers was a devil’s bargain; didn’t matter that the contract had been signed in someone else’s blood before Gray was even old enough to speak. Didn’t matter that she had no idea what awaited her at the end of all this, and if I so much as hinted at it, she’d be banished to oblivion, too.

  Didn’t matter that she hadn’t asked for this, or that I knew—deep the fuck down in my bones—that she was meant for greater things than becoming a demon slave.

  How could she not be? Every time she was supposed to die, the woman just kept on fighting her way back from the brink.

  Hell was losing patience. I was losing my mind.

  If I was jealous of anything, it was this: when the shit finally hit the fan, Beaumont, Alvarez, and even that crazy-ass demon O’Keefe would still come out of it the good guys.

  Me? Three hundred and twelve years old, and the only thing I was good at was following orders.

  Hell’s orders.

  Fuck this…

  “Gray, wait.” I caught up in a few strides, and she finally slowed down, letting me slip an arm over her shoulders. Her scent washed over me—that fruity, tropical shampoo of hers that always made my damn mouth water—and I pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. “Mmm. You taste like a smoothie.”

  “Shut up.” Gray nudged me in the ribs, finally cracking a smile. “Can’t you see I’m trying to be mad at you?”

  I tugged on one of her curls. “Give it up, Desario. You know you love me.”

  “Excuse you, Mr. Ego. I tolerate you. Subtle but important difference.”

  She tried to punch me in the arm, but I grabbed her hand and held on tight.

  We kept our mouths shut the rest of the way home, but I could tell her mind was working overtime—she almost missed the turnoff for her street.

  When we finally got to her place, she leaned back against the railing on the front porch and sighed, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

  I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Rough night?”

  “Understatement.”

  “You, ah, wanna talk about it?”

  Gray pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, and I backed off. Last thing I wanted
to do was crowd her, but seriously—what the fuck was going on?

  The woman was covered in scrapes and bruises—a story she’d yet to tell me. She’d made a blood deal with Darius Beaumont. And as much as she tried to hide it, a deep, new worry had settled in around her eyes.

  This wasn’t just another day in the life of my crazy, badass witch.

  “I’m sorry I was so cagey before,” she said, looking up at me again. “Something weird happened last night during my shift, and my magic kind of… bubbled up.”

  “Your… what?” My heart rammed against my ribcage, everything else in me going cold. Far as I knew, Gray hadn’t touched magic since she was a kid.

  It’s happening…

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, pushing off the railing and digging into her pocket for her keys. “I’m not trying to be dramatic. I promise I’ll tell you everything. But right now I just want to burn this shirt and drop into a hot bath with some tea and a good book. Okay?”

  It killed me not to push for details, but she was completely wiped out. She needed to unwind, get some sleep, start fresh tomorrow.

  “How about I bring over breakfast tomorrow, and we’ll figure everything out then?” I said, reaching for her hand. “Deal?”

  “Make it brunch. Morning is not my friend.”

  “Brunch it is, night owl.” I brought her hand to my mouth. Beaumont’s scent was all over her skin, but fuck it. I kissed her palm anyway, making another silent vow.

  Even a devil’s bargain had a way out. I’d do whatever it took to find the loophole that would invalidate her contract.

  Until then? Looked like it was time for a little chat with Beaumont and the boys.

  Fuck. Sometimes I really hate being right.

  Eleven

  Gray

  Ronan released my hand, and a cool breeze lifted the hair off my neck, bringing with it the salty, briny scent of the bay. The dark clouds that had been hovering in the night sky slithered away, giving us a peek at the quarter moon and a dusting of stars.

  It was hard not to dream under a sky like that.

  “Don’t you ever just want a normal kind of life?” I asked.

  “Hmm.” Ronan’s voice was soft and alluring in the quiet dark. “Kids and a minivan?”

  “Why not?”

  “Hate to break it to you, Desario, but I’m not normal. And neither are you.”

  Ronan laughed, but a deep sadness clung to his features like a mask.

  I thought of the Death card from this morning, considering it now with new understanding. Everything changed. Died. Was born again. Life didn't come with a guarantee—I’d learned that lesson a long time ago. I knew better than to think my friends would always be here. That we’d always be together. No matter what our intentions and feelings, things ended. Circumstances changed. People went away.

  Sometimes on purpose.

  Sometimes not.

  It was a fact of life, and for the most part I’d accepted it. But the thought of things changing between me and Ronan? It nearly gutted me.

  I slid my key into the front door lock, then turned to face him, my heart heavy. “Ronan, are we okay?”

  He ran a hand over my hair, cradling the back of my head. I searched his eyes for an answer, a promise that no matter what happened, no matter what came crashing down around us, we would always be solid.

  But here's another thing I knew about Ronan: he never made a promise he couldn’t keep.

  He pressed his forehead to mine and closed his eyes, his breath tickling my lips. After a beat, he kissed my forehead, and turned away without another word.

  I watched him walk down the path to the sidewalk, feeling like the ground was about to drop out from under me.

  And I didn't want it to. Not again.

  “Ronan?"

  He turned to look at me, and for a minute I lost myself in those deep, soulful eyes. Every one of my walls came crumbling down, leaving my heart unguarded, totally exposed. I opened my mouth to say the words, the right ones, the ones that would make him stay.

  The ones I’d been trying to say for months.

  But before I could find them, the air around us shifted, and a raven landed on the ledge outside Sophie’s bedroom. Clouds slithered back in front of the moon, bathing us in a darkness so deep and black and all-consuming, it felt like we’d never see the sun again.

  Every hair on my neck stood on end.

  Ronan’s body tensed. “What the hell?”

  I took a deep breath, trying to figure out where the bad mojo was coming from.

  The night had gone still and silent.

  Ronan and I locked eyes for a split second… and then I felt it.

  Something in the house was wrong.

  Dead wrong.

  Twelve

  Gray

  I pushed through the front door first, with Ronan right on my heels.

  Nothing looked out of place, but I felt it immediately—the heaviness in the air. It was too quiet; even the fridge had stopped buzzing.

  A deep sense of dread settled over me, squeezing my lungs until it hurt to breathe.

  “Stay here,” Ronan whispered. He edged past me and headed down the hallway that led to our bedrooms.

  Ignoring his directive, I followed close behind.

  My bedroom door was open—nothing amiss in there. Same with the bathroom and the small spare room Sophie used as an art studio.

  At the very end of the hall, Sophie’s bedroom door was closed.

  “Sophie?” I called out softly.

  No response.

  Ronan turned toward me, pressing a finger to his lips to shush me.

  She's at work, that's all. She went to the coven meeting like she’d planned, and now she's at Illuminae with her sparkly tattoos and rainbow hair, right where she’s supposed to be.

  I closed my eyes and pictured her behind the bar at the fae club, head bopping to the otherworldly beats as she lined up glasses and poured fruity, metallic-colored drinks for the club’s flamboyant clientele.

  She’s at work, she's at work, she's at work…

  Ronan reached for the doorknob. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the metal, a bolt of icy fear shot down my spine. Goosebumps tightened my scalp.

  “Sophie?” I called over Ronan’s shoulder. My voice trembled as he turned the knob and pushed open the door. “You home?”

  The lights were off, but her curtains were pulled back, the bedroom dimly illuminated by a streetlight. Both of her windows were open, screens and all.

  I stepped inside behind Ronan, rubbing the chill from my arms. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the weak light.

  That's when I saw her, stretched out on her bed and flat on her back, mouth parted in blissful sleep. Her red hair was almost back to its natural shade, fanned out on her pillow, the ends still giving off a faint fairy glow.

  I blew out a breath, tears of relief stinging my eyes. Sophie was here. She was safe. Late for work, probably pissed that I’d blown off the coven meeting, but safe. I almost jumped onto her bed with joy.

  “Gray?” Ronan clamped a hand over my shoulder, pulling me back.

  “She’s okay,” I whispered. “It’s fine. She—”

  “Don’t move.”

  “But—”

  The room shimmered before our eyes. There on Sophie’s chest, right on top of her sunflower-and-daisies comforter, a raven appeared—seemingly from thin air.

  I stood at the end of the bed, hands gripping the edge of the footboard. It was the raven from outside. The same one, I realized now, that I’d seen in the alley.

  In that terrible moment, I knew that my best friend was not sleeping at all.

  Sophie was dead.

  No...

  Ronan tried to pull my back, but I was paralyzed, watching with numb detachment as the raven slid his beak into her mouth.

  Silver-blue mist curled out from between her lips like a winter’s breath, glittering in the dim room.

  No, not a breath.
A soul. Her soul.

  The realization set fire to my limbs.

  “Leave her alone!” I bolted onto the bed and swiped at the raven, but my fingers passed right through him, like trying to touch a shadow. He leapt away and perched on Sophie's dresser instead.

  I lay across Sophie's body, my hands clenching her sheets. All around me the bedroom began to fade, replaced with wild trees under a jet-black sky. In the distance, indigo light glowed, and I knew it was like the alley again, my mind slipping into my magic place even as my body remained with Sophie.

  I didn't want to leave her. I fought the change, focusing on the feel of her cool sheets in my hands, the strawberry scent of her shampoo.

  It worked. The image of the forested path faded almost as quickly as it had arrived, leaving me right back in her bed.

  Though I hadn’t spent any time in the black forest this time, my hands were once again engulfed in that strange blue flame. I tried to pull back, but instinct pushed me forward, closer to Sophie.

  This time, though, the fire didn’t chase her soul back into her body—it turned a lighter blue, encircling her head like a halo. The silver mist of her soul entwined with my flames, and with my next breath, it entered me.

  Warmth spread inside me.

  Sophie’s essence, her scent, and every memory we ever shared together crashed through me, wave after wave after wave, until I could no longer tell where she ended and I began. It was as if our souls had merged.

  The raven, who’d been watching from its perch on Sophie's dresser, launched itself into the air, exploding in a tempest of oil-black feathers that swirled and spun above the bed, then crashed violently back together, reforming into a terrifying figure in tattered black robes.

  I couldn’t see his face, but beneath a black hood, ice blue eyes glowed bright, his presence sucking all the energy out of the room. He hovered above us for only seconds, then lunged for me, hauling me off the bed with inhuman strength.

  I was dimly aware of Ronan banging on an invisible barrier—the same shimmery dome that had covered me in the alley. His lips were moving, but his voice was a distant echo.