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

by Sarah Piper

  “What is it, love?” Darius asked. He was still kneeling in front of me, the other two on the couch at my sides, and a feeling of complete contentment settled over me. I knew it would pass, but for now I let it comfort me, like the fuzziest fleece blanket during a winter storm.

  “This might sound crazy,” I said.

  “Crazier than being a necromancer with secret powers and having regular interactions with Death?” Emilio asked, his eyes twinkling.

  I gave him a playful smack on the shoulder, and he grabbed my hand, holding it tight.

  “I just… You know how they say people who share traumatic or intense experiences sometimes feel like they’ve known each other for years, even if it’s only been a few days? Well, I kind of feel like that with you guys, but even more intense. I mean, there’s no way I’ve only known you for a week.”

  The three of them exchanged a glance, but it wasn’t scary or judgmental.

  It was warm. Nostalgic, even.

  Ronan nodded, and Darius squeezed my calf.

  “You’re right,” Darius said. “We have known you longer than a week. Much longer.”

  “They saved your life, Gray,” Ronan said. “The night I found you on that boat.”

  Thirty-Three

  Darius

  For a full minute, Gray seemed shocked into silence, her lips frozen in a tiny pink “o” as she blinked at us in disbelief.

  “You were there?” she finally asked. “When he found me on that boat?”

  “Yes.” I closed my eyes against a fresh cascade of horrid images—the bruises on her arms and legs, the fear in her eyes, the way she’d screamed when Ronan had carried her out of that boat. I could live another three hundred years and still, I’d never forget that sound.

  Just like I’d never forget the sounds she’d made in the car tonight, her body coming alive at my touch. I’d much rather focus on remembering those sounds. Perhaps even coaxing them from her again sometime in the very near future.

  “So you guys are, like, pals?” she asked, a warm smile rising on her face like the sun.

  “Pals might be a bit of a stretch,” Ronan said, at the same time Emilio said, “More like brothers.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “The kind who fantasize about beating the hell out of one another, but pulverize any outsider who attempts the same.”

  Ronan actually cracked a smile at that one, the cheeky bastard.

  “A demon, a vampire, and a shifter hanging out together?” Gray lifted a brow. “That’s pretty rare, even in this town.”

  “What can I say?” Emilio grinned. “We’ve always been rebels.”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “You weren’t speaking,” I told Gray. “We weren’t even sure you could speak—all you’d done so far was scream. But after a day or so, you just slipped into unconsciousness.”

  “Asher managed to swipe some medical supplies,” Ronan said, “so we could run an IV and keep you hydrated. And we all just took turns doing what we could, hoping it would be enough.”

  “Wait… Asher?” Gray shook her head, trying to process all of this. “I can’t imagine Asher caring about anyone other than himself. Well, and maybe Ronan.” She looked at the demon in question. “You guys seem pretty tight.”

  “Thick as thieves, those two,” I agreed. But despite my general distaste for most demons, I wanted Gray to know the truth. “Asher O’Keefe is not an easy man to—shall we say—connect with. But beneath the brash demeanor and ridiculous tattoos, the hellspawn twat actually does have a heart.”

  “Wow. I don’t even know what to say.” Gray leaned forward on the couch, resting her cheek against her thighs. Her hair slipped in front of her face, and I ran my fingers through it, tucking it behind her ear so I could see her eyes.

  “Once you started to regain consciousness,” I continued, “our big, tough wolf over here fed you homemade chicken soup with a syringe. Every night for nearly a week, he’d warm up the pot for you, adding more vegetables and broth, never letting any of us near it.”

  Gray smiled again. “Really?”

  “I would’ve made empanadas,” Emilio said, “but those are harder to get into a syringe.”

  Gray laughed and glanced my way. “Did you make me soup, too, D?”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. “Heavens, no. I don’t cook, Gray. I have a staff for that. But before you think me a heartless brute, you should know that while your precious Ronan did little else but brood like a sullen teenager—”

  “Not true,” Ronan said. “I also sulked.”

  “I stand corrected,” I said. “While your multi-talented demon boy practiced his dark cloud routine, I read to you every night without fail.”

  “Like bedtime stories?” she teased.

  “Of a sort.”

  “Goodnight Moon?”

  “More like legal briefings from my defense attorney days, if you must know. It’s what I had available at the time.”

  “Seriously?” Gray laughed again, and in that moment I was nearly certain I’d give up my immortality if it meant I could keep hearing that music. “No wonder I was unconscious for so long.”

  “Now you know why I sold my practice and went into the club business.”

  She sat up again, continuing to stare at us in wonder. “I feel like I’m starting to remember some of that—like the taste of the soup, maybe? And some of the reading. And some kind of… singing?”

  “Singing?” I asked.

  Ronan turned away, but not before I caught sight of the blush on his cheeks.

  “You?” I asked him. “Really?”

  Ronan shrugged. “Guilty.” He turned back to Gray with a wink. “But I’ll never tell you which song. Not even if you torture me.”

  “That’s funny,” I said, “because I’d bet hearing you sing is its own torture.”

  “I wish I could remember more,” Gray said. “I feel like I should thank you.”

  “It will come to you in time,” Emilio told her, rubbing a hand down her back. “And you do thank us. Just by being here. Just by being you.”

  Gray turned her gaze back to me, her blue eyes bright. “I can’t believe you guys never said anything. Especially you, D. God, all that time making deliveries to Black Ruby, I was totally scared of you.”

  I nodded. “I understand, love. I am an apex predator after all.”

  “Hello?” Gray rolled her eyes and smirked. “You’re all apex predators. It’s just that you happen to have the sharpest teeth.”

  Her gaze lingered on my mouth, the heat of that penetrating stare sending an inconvenient surge of desire right below the belt. Thankfully I was still on the floor, the—ahem—hard evidence not quite in view of the others.

  Gray swallowed hard, the lightness of the moment evaporating. “I don’t even remember how I got on that boat. I was in Portland before this, and somehow I just… ended up here.” She shook her head, but her eyes grew cloudy.

  “Anyway,” Ronan said, “after all that, you stayed with me, and the other guys backed off. We didn’t want to overwhelm you. Figured it’d be better to see what you remembered on your own.”

  “When it was clear that you didn’t,” I said, “it just became easier not to mention it at all. You and I had our brief interactions at the club, but it’s not the sort of thing you bring up when signing for a delivery, is it?” I shook my head, clearing the images of her shivering, broken body. “None of us like remembering those days, Gray. You were badly wounded, and… Well, you’re obviously fine now—strong enough to take on vampires and men twice your size, and who knows what other foul beasts.”

  “Oh, yes,” she teased, flexing a bicep. “I’m super hardcore.”

  “Clearly my chicken soup worked its magic,” Emilio said.

  “Or perhaps my soothing voice, coaxing you back from the brink.” I winked at her, but our story had come to an end, and I didn’t have much time to get home if I wanted to beat sunrise.

  I got to my feet, the rest of them following su
it. Gray looked a little tired on her feet, but otherwise surprisingly okay, given her ordeal tonight.

  She stretched up on her toes, wrapping her arms around my neck in a surprisingly warm and gentle hug. “Thank you. Again.”

  When she pulled back to meet my gaze, I took her face in my hands and kissed her, slow and deep and delicious, just enough to get me through the hours until I could touch her again.

  Ronan stood behind her, hands wrapped protectively around her shoulders, but when I broke our kiss and looked him in the eye, I found no challenge there.

  Only respect.

  “Take good care of our little brawler,” I said.

  Ronan nodded. “Always do.”

  “And take care of yourself, too.” I headed for the front door with Emilio, but turned around one last time to add a final word—one I hadn’t said to Ronan Vacarro in many years, but suddenly felt right again: “Brother.”

  Thirty-Four

  Gray

  “I’m just saying it’s complete bullshit,” Ronan grumbled. “What dude would willingly drop out of his awesome band, sell his guitar, and open a bakery just because some woman told him she liked cake?”

  “Um. A dude who wants to get laid? And I gotta say, that would absolutely do the trick for me.” I hit pause on the rom-com marathon we’d been watching for the last two hours and headed into the kitchen in search of snacks.

  The other guys had left hours ago, and though Ronan was doing his best to keep me calm and relaxed, the tension between us kept mounting. It was the first time we’d been alone together since our kiss last week, and when I’d suggested a movie marathon, Ronan was quick to jump on board.

  Movies meant no quiet space. No dead air. No chance of talking about what happened.

  No chance of it happening again.

  But compartmentalization only worked for so long.

  “Nothing soothes the soul like a giant scoop of peanut butter rolled in popcorn and M&Ms.” I prepared a big spoonful for Ronan and handed it over. “Now tell me what’s really bothering you.”

  Ronan wrapped his hand around mine, lifting it to his mouth and shoving the spoon inside. His lips brushed my fingers, the touch of them warming my entire hand.

  “I can smell him on your skin,” he finally said.

  “Who, Darius?”

  Ronan nodded.

  “Okay, first of all? Beyond creepy, Vacarro. Second of all, is that seriously what’s bugging you, or are you just making a general observation?”

  “Both.”

  I scooped up my own peanut butter deliciousness, but unlike Ronan, I savored mine, one lick at a time. “What is it with you two, anyway? You go from mortal enemies to nearly cuddling. And now I find out you’ve been partners in crime all along?”

  Ronan shrugged. “We’ve known each other a long time. Sometimes it’s… suffocating.”

  Maybe it was a product of my being alone for so long after I’d left home, but I couldn’t imagine feeling suffocated by a genuine relationship like the guys seemed to have. No, nothing was perfect, but true friendship—mutual respect, authenticity, shared history—that wasn’t always a given with people. You couldn’t throw that away just because you needed a little space sometimes.

  “Is it possible you’re overreacting, just a little?” I asked.

  Ronan stared me down for a long moment, his autumn gaze unwavering. I was beginning to think he’d given up on the conversation, when he finally blurted out, “No. Is he a good kisser?”

  I laughed. I actually laughed, because the question was so far out of left field, I didn’t know what else to do.

  But Ronan just stood there, waiting for an answer.

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest, glaring right back at him. “Would it bother you if I said yes? Is that what you’re pissed about?”

  Maybe they’re into sharing…

  “It’s—no. Not really.” Ronan closed his eyes, blowing out a long breath. “Not at all, actually.”

  “Ronan, seriously. What is going on with you tonight? Is it me? Did I completely freak you out?” I didn’t want to talk about my magic again, but if that’s what was upsetting him, I’d drag it all out in the open again, sift through every memory and every black bit of it until he felt okay.

  But Ronan shook his head, guilt flickering in his eyes. “It’s not you, Gray. Never.” The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Darius made a promise that night we found you—we all made a promise. No matter what came between us, no matter how many years passed or what fucked-up shit went down in the Bay, no matter what you ultimately remembered about that time in your life, we’d always look out for you.”

  “Okay,” I said. “How is that a problem?”

  “He’s supposed to have your back, and look what happened. That vamp attack? You never should’ve gotten in the middle of that shit.”

  Was he serious right now? Darius’s actions tonight had been the very definition of having my back. And my front. And every other exposed part of me that would’ve made a perfect bloodsucker snack if he hadn’t been there to fight by my side.

  “You are truly impossible. You know that, right?” I tossed my spoon into the sink and stalked down the hall to my room.

  He followed me, looming in my doorway as I dug through my dresser for a sleep shirt and boxers. I needed to go to bed. To shut my door and lock him out and crawl deep into a blanket cave until all this shit blew over.

  “It shouldn’t have happened,” he said. “He shouldn’t have agreed to meet you at the morgue, especially without letting us know. And he should’ve found a way to get you out of that mess without a fight.”

  “But it did happen, Ronan. And now you’re, what? Ready to stake him?” I slammed my dresser drawer shut. “Everything with you is so… so all or nothing!”

  “Where you’re concerned? Absolutely.” Ronan stepped into my room, barging into my personal space, his presence overloading every one of my senses. The cloves-and-campfire scent of him, the fire in his eyes, the heat rolling off his body, the red-hot memories of our kiss, still searing my insides… all of it lured me closer, even as I tried to resist.

  “What happened tonight got way out of hand,” he said. “It’s just another reminder that I'm not always going to be there to—"

  “But every time I turn around, you are there. Looking out for me. Bringing in backup. Paying my bills. Doing my job. Fighting my battles for me. Why?"

  “What the hell kind of question is that? You’re my best friend, Gray.”

  “Why, Ronan?”

  I knew it wasn’t just about our tight friendship, or the promise the guys had made all those years ago. I also knew it wasn’t a simple answer, either. I had my own complicated feelings on the matter.

  But for once, I needed to hear his.

  The silence between us was unbearable, stretching on for so long I was beginning to think he’d just storm out of the room without answering. But then let out a soft groan, his guard dropping long enough to reveal the raw, vulnerable emotion in his eyes.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was low and gentle. Fragile. “Why do you think, Gray Desario?”

  The look in his eyes had the power to melt me like a dish of ice cream left in the sun.

  But I was tired of over-analyzing every look, every gesture. I needed the honest truth to back it all up. I needed to know, one way or the other.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think,” I said, breaking our gaze and sitting on the edge of my bed. “It matters what you feel. It matters what’s true.”

  Ronan sat down next to me, our legs touching from hip to knee, warm even through both of our clothes.

  “Seven years ago, I watched you claw your way back from near-death,” he said. “And every day since, I’ve watched you fight for everything you have. I know the Bay isn’t an easy place—not for any of us—but you made a life here. You earned it. So when I think about someone taking it away from you—someone like the sick motherfucker who killed Sophie…” He closed his eyes
, shaking his head as if he were trying to dislodge the very idea. “Losing you just isn’t an option. That’s what I feel.”

  When he opened his eyes again, they were red and glassy with unshed tears.

  “Who are you?" I whispered, my own eyes glazing with emotion.

  I’d been dying to ask that question since we met, and now that it was out, the words felt heavy and uncertain between us, like the wrong answer could destroy everything we had. Everything we’d built together. Everything that might still come.

  I couldn't take them back.

  Ronan shook his head. “You don't want to know the answer to that. You think you do, but trust me—"

  “That's the thing. I do trust you. Even when you’re driving me crazy. Even when every instinct is screaming at me to get as far away from you as I can."

  “Every instinct, huh?” Lifting a hand to my face, he slid the pad of his thumb across my lower lip, sending sparks of heat cascading across my skin. “At least now I know I'm not the only one whose advice you completely ignore."

  He flashed that crooked grin, but it couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes. The regret. The secrets.

  He lowered his hand from my face, and I knew in that moment he wouldn’t kiss me tonight. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

  The thought nearly gutted me.

  I leaned my head on his shoulder and sighed. “Ronan, I…”

  I’m in love with you. Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel it?

  “Get some sleep, Gray.” He kissed the top of my head, then rose from the bed. “If you need me, I’m right out on the couch.”

  I need you. I always need you.

  So many thoughts. So many unsaid words. All I had to do was open my mouth, give them a voice, set them free. I could say all the right things, all the things that would make him stay, make him get back in this bed with me, make him kiss me so hard and deep I’d never eat or drink again without remembering the taste of his hot, hungry mouth.