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

by Sarah Piper

  Hunters.

  I wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to remind myself that I wasn't alone in this. That I had Ronan. Darius. Asher. That despite Norah’s threats, Haley and some of the others might come around, too.

  Assuming I could get close to them again. Assuming I even wanted to—jury was still out on that.

  “Hunters have been quiet for too long.” Sophie traced her fingers over the King’s sword. A menacing imp with sharp teeth and even sharper claws sat at the King’s feet, clutching the entire earth in his talons. “The witches believe we're on the verge of another Great Hunt.”

  “Norah too?”

  “Norah prefers to keep her head in the sand.” Sophie's eyes darkened. “She can't be trusted, Gray.”

  Sophie turned over another card—the High Priestess—but she was reversed like the King of Swords.

  “Haley and I found out that some of the underground covens back east had been in touch with Norah, trying to share information and unify against the threat. They're all feeling it, Gray. One of the Boston leaders said that the same ripples we're feeling here are stirring up groups in Europe and Southeast Asia, even as far away as Australia. They’re all trying to reconnect, but it’s hard because there’s still a lot of mistrust and fear.”

  “Are you serious?”

  The covens are talking about unifying?

  If that were true, it was major news. Witches had gone their separate ways decades ago in hopes of avoiding detection by the Hunters, who at that time had grown extremely powerful. Splinter groups remained—like the Bay Coven—but mostly operated underground. These days, an attack on one witch by a single hunter was enough to send the stragglers back into the shadows.

  And after a generation with everyone doing their own thing, trying to unite them under a single purpose seemed like an impossible task.

  “Some of them are trying to figure it out," Sophie said. “The stronger, more established groups believe it's time for the witches to rise up again, to come out of the broom closet and take on the Hunters once and for all. But Norah wants no part of it. When Haley and I confronted her about keeping her communications with the other groups secret, she freaked. She forbid us from getting in touch with anyone outside Bay Coven. She said if she found out anyone had gone against her rule, she’d bind our magic.”

  “Holy shit. Can she even do that?”

  “Does she have the authority? Well, there's no one to stop her. Whether she has the juice for it is another question, but none of us wanted to test it.”

  “How could you even stand to be around her?” I shook my head, trying to clear the memories of yesterday’s disastrous confrontation with Norah. “How could you put yourself in danger like that? You should’ve—”

  You should’ve told me, I wanted to say. But of course she’d tried to tell me. Tried to get me involved, to get my help.

  “I’m sorry,” I said instead. “I should’ve listened to you.”

  “You didn’t know, Gray.” Sophie reached over the cards and grabbed my hand, squeezing it fiercely. “Just… Stay off Norah’s radar. You need to be prepared for whatever's coming, and you can't do it with Norah on your ass. The only one you can trust for sure is Haley, and maybe Reva, but she’s pretty new. The others are alright, but some of them still think the sun rises and sets on Norah’s face.”

  “Do you really think the hunters are coming?” I asked.

  A breeze stirred, and behind us on the pedestal, the pages of the book rustled.

  “The Bay witches aren’t the only ones to turn up dead this fall,” Sophie said. “Three east coast witches were murdered in their beds last month. Then more in Chicago, Denver, San Francisco—and those are the ones Haley and I found out about. I’m sure there are others.”

  Turn up dead…

  My heart squeezed in my chest. Sitting here in the grass, looking into my best friend’s eyes, I’d almost forgotten this version of Sophie wasn't real. All of her words were coming from my own thoughts and projections, or from her book—from the things she’d written about before her death. Things she’d wanted me to know all along.

  Her comment about dead witches only reminded me how blind I’d been.

  I reached out and squeezed her knee, searching for the words to make things right, but Sophie had already returned her attention to the cards.

  She drew the Six of Wands next—a beautiful, moon-faced creature with iridescent wings emerging from a flower bud. Appearing before the creature, five strong hands raised wooden staffs in her honor, clearly willing to follow her to the ends of the earth.

  Sophie covered the Six of Wands crosswise with another card—Four of Swords. This one featured another moon-faced creature, but unlike the winged one in Six of Wands, this one was buried in the earth, surrounded by dirt and roses. Three swords pierced the ground above her. A fourth she kept by her side, the blade pointed at her belly.

  The Six of Wands usually spoke to me of leadership and victory. The Four of Swords was a little murkier. Sometimes that card was just a message about the importance of rest and reflection, but this time it spoke only of death.

  I knew immediately that both cards represented Sophie.

  “You were a lot more involved with the witches then you let on,” I said.

  “I wanted to help them,” Sophie said. “I thought if Haley and I could win them over to the side of reason, then start training them in secret, we would eventually be powerful enough to deal with Norah. Then we could join up with the other covens and help figure out what kind of threat we’re all under.”

  I picked up the Four of Swords, my gaze lingering on the red rose in the creature’s hand. “Did you know you were going to die? I mean, did you sense it? Did your cards indicate… anything?”

  Sophie watched me for a long time, her face pinched in concentration. The breeze blew her rainbow hair into her mouth, and when she brushed it away, she said, “These cards aren't about me, Gray. They’re about you.”

  Goose bumps prickled my arms.

  “But…” I dropped the card. It slid across the others and onto the grass.

  “There are four of you.” Sophie plucked the card out of the grass and held it up in front of me, forcing me to look at it again. “Four witches. Three standing their ground, waiting for the fourth to rise, to find them and give them purpose.”

  “Where? What four? Who are they? From Bay Coven?”

  “You have to find the others,” she said, shaking her head. “The four of you must unite the covens. You—”

  “Four of who? Sophie, this is your reading. Your cards. I don't know what you're talking about.”

  And because I truly didn't know, Sophie—this projection of her that existed only in my mind—didn't know either. The real Sophie had done this tarot reading before her death, recording her predictions in the book of shadows, but she hadn’t been certain about it then, either. Otherwise, it would be in the book, and she'd be able to tell me about it now.

  “I don’t know who or where,” Sophie said again. “Only that there are four.”

  I wanted to scream in frustration. Maybe if she had told me about this when she was still alive, we might've been able to puzzle it out together. To figure out what the cards were trying to tell us about the four, about uniting the covens, about Norah. But I’d been too stubborn to listen, and now Sophie was dead, and all I had left of her was a book of useless spells and guesses.

  I hopped up from the grass, suddenly desperate to get away from her. She wasn't my Sophie, not really. Just a cheap imitation that lived in my mind, a two-dimensional caricature rehashing the words from her book.

  This entire place existed in my mind, and the longer I spent here, the more time I wasted. I had to get out into the real world—to look for clues. Figure out what happened. This whole thing—the covens, Norah, the Hunters, the new threat—none of that was real. Not to me.

  The only real thing was that Sophie was dead and her killer was still out there.

  �
��Are you leaving?” Sophie asked, her mouth pulling into a frown.

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  “If you can, just for a few more minutes?” The fragile hope in her eyes brought me to my knees. It was the exact same look she’d given me the last time I’d seen her alive, right after I promised her I’d think about going to the coven meeting.

  I settled down in the grass again and reached for her hands, pulling them into my lap. I didn't care that we were messing up the Tarot spread, or that it was getting dark, or that the forest seemed to be encroaching on us, inch by inch.

  “Do you know who killed you, Sophie?”

  “Eww.” Her nose wrinkled, and a smile broke across her face. “Don't be so morbid, Gray. God.”

  I wanted to laugh with her—it was such a Sophie thing to say—but I didn't have it in me.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “There's something else you need to know," she said, her smile fading.

  “About the four?”

  “Maybe. I don't know. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful, Gray.” She reassembled the cards and gestured for me to draw.

  With trembling fingers, I pulled two more cards from the top. The first was the Three of Swords, a woman whose heart had been run through with three swords. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she was still standing, and no blood stained the blades. In the next card—the Moon—two marionettes danced in the street, the full moon pulling their strings.

  “Betrayal.” It was the first word that came to mind, and the sound of it sent an icy chill down my spine.

  Sophie nodded. “Just remember the message from the Moon. Things are not always what they seem.”

  I looked around at our meadow, at the shadowy and ever-shifting forest that surrounded us. “You think?”

  “Trust your intuition, Gray. In all things.” She held my gaze again, her eyes blazing with renewed passion.

  “I'll find him, Sophie,” I whispered. “Whoever did this. I promise.”

  “I know you will.” Sophie shuffled the cards back together and wrapped them up in the black cloth, all of it vanishing with a wave of her fingers. “I’m sorry it had to be this way. I wanted to tell you before, but—”

  “But I didn't want to listen.” I reached up and tucked a lock of glowing green hair behind her ear, grateful that at least in my vision, her hair hadn’t been cut.

  “Will you listen now?” she asked.

  “Always.” I meant it, even if I didn't yet understand what she wanted me to hear. “Sophie, I—”

  But she was already gone. The forest and meadow faded away, leaving me back in the cold steel room above Illuminae, Sophie’s book of shadows open on the table beneath my palms.

  I slammed the book shut. The pentagram was silver again, no trace of my blood left. Seconds later, the book glowed red, locked once again in its magical cage.

  Sophie was gone—at least for now.

  The moment I left Illuminae, my phone buzzed with a text.

  Detective Emilio Alvarez.

  Can you meet me at the station? It’s urgent.

  Twenty

  Gray

  My skin buzzed with nervous energy as I hauled open the heavy door that led into the precinct. A grizzled cop—a human who looked like he hadn't cracked a smile in twenty years—escorted me into a colorless room furnished with a cheap folding table and four chairs. The smell of old, burnt coffee permeated the air.

  Other than its lack of windows, the room had nothing in common with the room at Illuminae, but my mind kept wandering back there anyway—back to Sophie and her book. She hadn’t just left me a diary or a collection of secret spells and rituals. She’d sent me an important message. I just didn’t know what to make of it yet.

  Even after her death, it seemed I still couldn’t figure out how to listen.

  My heart ached. Seeing the projection of her vanish before my eyes in the meadow… It was like losing her all over again. There was so much I never got to say to her while she was alive—so much I never even thought to say—and now I’d never have the chance.

  Guilt gnawed my insides. In my mind I kept reviewing her Tarot cards, waiting for some magic clue to trigger my intuition, to send me on the right path. But nothing clicked. I was stuck in the same endless loop.

  The part about Norah made sense—it confirmed how I’d been feeling about the woman. But who were these four witches? Were they from the coven? Did Haley know about them? Or were they from somewhere else altogether? Was I one of them, or was I just supposed to find them?

  And what was the Three of Swords betrayal about?

  “Gray Desario, you are in serious shit.”

  Startled, I looked up into the blazing eyes of the demon looming in the doorway.

  Then I cracked a small, slightly guilt-laced smile and stood up, propping my hands on my hips. “Is that any way to say good morning to your favorite witch, Ronan?”

  “Hey, um, favorite witch? What part of ‘dangerous killer on the loose’ aren’t you getting?” He shut the door behind him and crossed the room, gathering me into a tight hug. He was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, one side of his face lined with faint red marks that could only be from my couch. “Jesus, Gray. I wake up to a text from Alvarez to get my ass down here, Asher’s passed out on the floor and snoring like a beast, and you’re nowhere to be found.”

  “I had some errands to run. And newsflash, bud.” I poked him in the chest. “You both snore like beasts. No wonder you didn’t hear me leave this morning.”

  “So you admit it. You snuck out while we were asleep because you knew—”

  “That you’d go all parole officer on me? Yes, exactly.” I headed to the far side of the room and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over my chest. “I have a life, Ronan. I can’t just hole up in my house. I know you and Asher mean well, but you guys have lives, too. You’re not my personal bodyguards.”

  Ronan shoved a hand through his hair and shook his head, but didn’t say another word. Just glared at me across the room, his body tensed for a fight.

  After a long, tense silence, he made his way over to me, eyes locked on mine, frustration simmering between us. The closer he got, the more oppressive the air felt, and by the time he stopped in front of me the room was so hot and stuffy I thought I might pass out.

  Why aren’t there any windows in here?

  “You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was low and soft now, his earlier anger melting into something else—something I wasn’t ready to name. Ronan leaned in close, bracing an arm against the wall next to my head. His cloves-and-campfire scent filled my nose and mouth, and my breath caught, my heart skipping into a wild beat so loud I was sure he could hear it, too.

  I felt his presence all around me, inside and out, solid and strong, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

  “I get it,” I whispered, focusing on his shoulder, on the faded, beat-up leather jacket he’d worn as long as I’d known him. “You think I can’t take care of myself.”

  “I know you can, Gray—you always have.” His fingers grazed my cheek, tracing the purple and green bruises beneath my makeup. “But being able to take care of yourself doesn’t mean you’re invincible. It doesn’t mean you throw yourself into danger just because you don’t want to ask for help.”

  I blinked back tears of frustration. Ronan was right. No matter how many dangerous situations I’d been in, no matter how many times I’d been forced to learn this lesson, deep down I was still acting like the same reckless, impulsive witch I’d been at sixteen, thinking I knew it all. Thinking nothing bad could ever happen to me or the people I cared about.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my heart still pounding at his closeness. His all-encompassing-ness. I finally looked into his eyes, shocked to see so much raw emotion there.

  For the first time in the history of our strange friendship, Ronan had let his guard down, leaving himself completely vulnerable.

  “I don’t know how else to…” His
voice broke, and he shook his head, sucking in a deep breath. “Finding Sophie like that… She was my friend, too, Gray. I miss her like hell.”

  My heart broke for him. I’d been so focused on my own loss, my own pain… God, Sophie had been Ronan’s friend almost as long as I had.

  “I know you do,” I said, resting my hand against his chest. His heart beat strong and steady, his skin warm behind his faded blue Zeppelin T-shirt. He’d had it since I first met him—probably longer than that—and I knew where every hole was, every snag.

  Ronan covered my hand with his, holding it against his chest. “Here’s the fucked-up thing, though. This little voice in my head keeps whispering, what if it were Gray? What if I’d walked in there and found the most important person in my life just… just gone?” He squeezed my hand so hard, the cut I’d made to activate Sophie’s blood spell throbbed, but I didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare do anything to break this spell between us. “I can’t... It would end me, Gray.”

  “Ronan…” I felt everything at once—the weight of those words, the intensity of his gaze, the crush of his fingers, the heat of his breath—all of it making my body hum with desire even as it made my heart ache. I dropped my chin to my chest and tried to slow my breathing, but the twin sensations continued to surge through me, battling for dominance and turning my legs to jelly.

  Ronan hooked a finger under my chin, slowly tilting my face until I had no choice but to meet his eyes. They were more green than brown today, fierce and intense and terrifying and beautiful.

  Slowly, agonizingly, his gaze swept down my face, stopping to linger on my mouth.

  “The even more fucked-up thing?” Ronan slid his hand up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. “Even with all this bad shit happening, I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to kiss you.”

  Ronan leaned in close, gently brushing his lips over mine like a feather. It was short and sweet, and though it unleashed a flurry of butterflies in my stomach, it was still chaste enough to qualify as a just-friends kiss.