ROMANCE: Paranormal Romance: The Valley (Book One) (Fun, Sexy, Mature Young Adult Vampire Shape Shifter Romance)

by Charlotte Swanpol

  She looked around in the low light. She knew it was late, knew she’d most likely be alone, but the echoing of her heels in the silence chilled her; the sound was hauntingly hollow. Though she’d been surprised by the firmness of her answer in the cab, her sudden decisiveness, she stepped with purpose. She knew exactly why she was here. She knew exactly where she was going, and what she planned to do once she got there. Her breath caught in her throat and, despite how calm she felt, her heart thudded in her chest. She didn’t expect to be back here, and so soon. It was still so fresh.

  The air felt thick again, judgemental curiosity pouring from the glassy eyes that peered up and down at her, despite the occasional smile. She ignored them; she only had eyes for one.

  Eyes locked on her target, she pulled up a chair and stared across a gap that felt a lifetime wide. Leaning forward, she took a breath.

  What do I even say?

  A single tear belied the smile that sat on her trembling lips. She reached out and wiped away a speck of dirt on the cold, glass case. I’ll start simple, I guess.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  Owen

  Owen turned to look at his wristwatch, facing him from atop the bedside table. He was grateful that he was only on-call that day; he had nowhere to be besides his bed, unless there was an emergency at the hospital, or he had the sudden urge to get up and be productive. The latter, he seriously doubted.

  He had a feeling he’d be nursing his hangover for the rest of the day. Normally, he kept his alcohol intake to a minimum – it was not conducive to his lifestyle. He worked too hard to throw away his progress with mindless drinking. Even the odd beer after work or glass of wine with dinner ate away at him. Though it happened rarely, he knew that when he got drunk, the productivity of the next day declined drastically, tossing his schedule out the window. Which, of course, was unacceptable.

  He stretched under the sheets, long limbs reaching as a yawn escaped him. Another side effect of drinking too much – he seldom slept well when he got sloppy-drunk, tossing and turning all night, but that was only part of his lack of sleep this time.

  Flashes of the previous evening scorched his imagination.

  He remembered the fluttering in his stomach as he dressed for the evening, wondering if his tuxedo would be too much; wondering what she’d be wearing. The fluttering doubled when he considered all he had planned, on a hunch.

  He recalled his journey to the hotel directly after work and paying a janitor to let him onto the balcony so he could clean it before the party started; recalled rushing home to shower off the ancient grime before getting shaved and dressed.

  The memory bounced in his mind, of every head turning to look at him when he arrived at the party. Every one of the faces was blurry to him; he sought only one. When he hadn’t seen it in his first three scans of the room, he’d resolved to ‘mingle’ until she arrived.

  He could still feel the tingle in his skin, the tightening of his dress pants when he first saw her; big, pinned curls framed her perfect face, the dark makeup made her eyes electric. The deep navy gown clung to her curves, her silhouette making the hourglass envious. The high slit in the dress teased him, her smooth legs peeking out from beneath.

  Owen felt himself growing thirsty and forced himself to get up and drink all the water he could find. Standing in his kitchen, and drinking glass after glass of water, he recalled the feeling of her in his arms as they swayed to the slow jazz; the warmth of her breath on his collar, the feeling of contentment that spread through his body as she rested her head on his shoulder. The smell of her lingered, the slight spice of perfume mixed with hairspray.

  He could remember the way his heart pounded as he led her to the balcony for their final dance, the nerves nearly blinding him. He very nearly stopped himself from speaking. Now, he wished he had.

  He could draw the shock that had painted her face, the sadness that lay beneath the joyous sparkle of her brilliant eyes.

  He remembered how it felt, forcing himself to lean in slowly, the desire to kiss her – to feel her lips on his – muddling his thoughts. He remembered every supple curve of her body, the heave of her generous bosom as he slid off her dress. He could still feel her smooth skin beneath his fingertips, the taste of her taunting his senses. He recalled the way her body responded to his touch, the memory of her little convulsions brought a smile to his face.

  He filled a final glass of water and returned to the bedroom, creeping under the covers. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his head spinning from the memories as much as the hangover. He shook his head, though he immediately regretted it.

  He thought on how things had ended between Jade and he. He saw the realization of what had happened strike her like a blow, her guilt broke his heart.

  But what did she feel guilty about? Owen wondered. Was it guilt over what happened? Or was she feeling guilty about liking it? She had been enjoying herself; at least that much was clear. He hadn’t forced himself upon her; he’d given her plenty of opportunities to walk away. And she wouldn’t have kissed me back if she hadn’t wanted to.

  He turned over and buried his face in his pillow. After she’d left, he’d sat there in the dark a few moments, thinking. He wasn’t upset that she’d gotten him riled up and left; if anything, his heart was blue-balled. For one brief moment, he’d allowed himself to believe that she’d chosen him; that his risk had been worth it. It was situations like these that deterred him from dating, from opening up his heart. It was situations like this that caused him to throw himself into his work to begin with. He’d been a fool.

  He closed his eyes and sighed, determined to fall back asleep. Just as he began to drift off, he was startled awake by a muffled gurgle next to him. A breathy, satisfied sigh preceded a light tickle up and down his back. As tender kisses found their way across his shoulders and up his neck, the rest of the night came screaming back to him. Countless drinks led him by the nose to scarcely fewer bad decisions.

  “Good morning, Owen,” the words were simple, but the subtext was clear.

  He tensed, shame and self-loathing surging through him. He took a breath, refusing to turn around.

  “Good morning,” he began, forcing himself to be kind. He didn’t want to say it, he pleaded with himself not to say it. Saying it out loud would make it real, and he so wished it weren’t.

  “Alexa.”

  Jade

  The silence in the empty mausoleum weighed heavily on Jade, the once-judgemental faces housed in dusty frames now peered at her with sympathy. She had sat in the folding chair sobbing for half an hour, wailing at the top of her lungs. She was grateful that her tears fell on deaf ears; she hated crying in front of people.

  She didn’t think she had any tears left; it felt like that was all she’d been doing the last nine months, whether happy or sad, or anything in between. She felt wrung dry; thoroughly empty and void of emotion. It was wonderfully cathartic.

  She sat in the quiet, staring through the polished glass door housing her mother’s ashes, the brass urn waiting patiently for whatever else might come. She took a breath and sighed, all the tension from her body diminished. She was exhausted. She’d held nothing back, crying about everything: about what happened that night with Owen, and about what happened with Lewis. About her guilt over both. She cried about her fears, and her betrayal, and about her mother. She cried out of grief, and frustration, and anger. She cried about things she’d thought were long buried. And finally, after nine months, she mourned the loss of her mother.

  “I really needed you tonight,” she whispered. The sconces on the wall cast a warm glow on the cold words. “I’ve been trying really hard not to be mad at you, but I am. I’m mad that you weren’t here for me, tonight. I’m mad that you’re not here, and that you’ve been robbed of the rest of your life. I’m mad that I wasn’t there when you — when it happened. I’m mad at your doctors and nurses. I’m mad that there was nothing we could do.

  “I’m mad that every time I go
to call you, you won’t answer the phone. And I’m mad that every time it happens, I forget. I’m mad at the fact that you won’t be at my wedding, or get to meet your grandchildren. And that I couldn’t run to you to show you my ring. I’m mad at this fucked up situation I’m in! I’m mad that you aren’t here to hug me, and listen, and tell me that it’s all going to be okay! My fucking fiancé is at home cheating on me, Mom, and you’re not here! I need you here!”

  New tears stung hot down her cheeks, the end of her scream trailing off among the walls of glass. She felt as though there was a ball of molten lead where her heart should be, and it took every ounce of strength left in her to stop herself from clawing it out. Hopeless and helpless, she sat gasping among the ghosts.

  “I can’t let you go,” she coughed. “I can’t do this without you, Mom. You’re my best friend. I need you here.”

  She sat rocking, softly, her tears dried up but her grief a freshly salted wound.

  “What do I do?” she asked. “What am I supposed to do, Mom? I need your advice.”

  She thought about Lewis, and wanted to punch the wall. She thought about Owen; how she was certain she’d fucked everything up. She looked at her engagement ring, and back up at the photo of her beautiful smiling mother.

  “Did you even like him?” Jade asked. “I know what he did for us, when you were sick, and what he did for me when—you died.” She made herself say it.

  “But is that enough reason to stay with him? I know what I did tonight was terrible, I know that. But Mom, he’s been so different these past few months; jealous, and possessive, and cruel. He’s been so mean to me, Mom. Do I have to stay with him just because he held my hand at your funeral?

  “I mean, it wasn’t always this way. There’s a reason we’ve been together for three years. But when times get tough, he pulls away? Shuts me out? He pushes me away so he can pull in someone else. Since the night we got engaged, he’s broken my heart. He’s broken my heart every day for the past three months. I deserve better.”

  She sat, stunned, her truth echoing around her as if the listening dearly departed agreed.

  She took another deep breath and looked around, the early morning light beginning to peek through the stained glass. Looking at her phone, she noticed she had quite a few missed text messages and calls; three from Lewis, and two from an unknown number. After she’d decided against calling Lewis back – he’d be furious if she woke him up this early – she noticed she had a voicemail. Dialing her machine, she waited.

  “Hi Jade,” a familiar voice rumbled. “It’s Doctor Aze- it’s Owen. I hope it’s okay that I got your phone number from – it doesn’t matter. Look, I wanted to apologize for what happened. I meant what I said, I don’t regret it. But I can’t have made this easy on you. I just want you to know I’m always here for you, if you need or want me to be. I don’t take back anything I said, about my feelings. Anyway, I hope you know I care about you. And I hope I hear from you.”

  Of all the silences she’d experienced that night, that one was the heaviest. Reeling, she scrolled through her missed messages in an attempt to distract herself from what she’d just heard. Among the few from Lewis, and one from her best friend and Maid of Honor, Mandy, was a text message from the same unknown number. All it read was an address.

  Jade was up and out the mausoleum doors before she knew it, very nearly running to the main road. Speaking to the dispatcher for a taxi was difficult to do while she hurried, but somehow she’d communicated her need of one, and when she arrived at the front door to the funeral home, one was waiting for her. She threw open the door and spat the address at the driver.

  As they navigated the streets into the suburbs a wide, bright grin spread across her face. She’d made up her mind. Her back ached from the boning in her gown; she ached to take it off. At that, her smile widened even further.

  They drove past a giant oak tree, and she leaned her head against the car window. The cool glass felt good against her skin, she thought she might combust. I wonder what he’ll say!

  When they pulled up a moment later in front of a handsome little bungalow with a delightful little covered porch, her grin became a contented smile. She took a moment to soak it in; it was charming. After paying the driver, she got out of the car and closed the door as quietly as she could, so as not to wake him, or his neighborhood.

  As lightly as she could, she climbed the porch steps, all the things she wanted to say speeding through her mind. Hi Owen, she rehearsed. I got your message, and the address you texted me. I hope I didn’t screw everything up. You were so romantic, the things you said – I couldn’t stop thinking about them all night.

  She wracked her brain to see if there was anything she’d left out of her speech. After she’d made all the revisions she could fathom, she paused to take a breath before knocking on the door. This is it.

  Before she had had time to think about knocking, the door flew inward, two voices cut off as soon as she was visible.

  “Jade?” Alexa snorted incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

  Jade looked from the girl to Owen, the shock of her still contorting his beautiful face.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “Well, I should think it was pretty obvious,” she giggled, gesturing to her rose-colored ensemble.

  The frigid ocean that washed over Jade extinguished any lingering threat of combustion. Alexa rattled on, but Jade wasn’t listening. She just looked up at Owen, searching desperately for silent answers, but his eyes would not oblige.

  If she hadn’t spent the whole night crying, Jade was certain she’d burst into tears. As she took in his shirtless form, she noticed dozens of bubble gum-pink smooches all over his torso, made worse only by the countless trenches in his luminous skin, no doubt made by the girl’s fake nails.

  She was disgusted. She was disgusted with Owen, and his abhorrent taste in women; with his thoughtlessness. She was disgusted with herself, too, for allowing herself to believe that she was any different in his eyes. She felt foolish. She was sure there was steam rising where her cheeks met the brisk, December air.

  Without a word, she turned on her heel and descended the steps, marching away from this stupid little house in the stupid suburbs. She wanted to scream.

  ***

  Her fourth cab of the night pulled up in front of her apartment building, and she couldn’t think of anywhere she wanted to be less. If that slut is still there when I walk in, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  Walking down the hallway to her apartment door was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. The memory of the last time resurfacing time and time again, but she forced herself to walk on. She made sure the make a racket with her keys before sliding it in and unlocking the door. She took a moment before opening the door; she was terrified of what she might find on the other side.

  The apartment looked normal enough, sun pouring through the kitchen window to reveal a sink full of dirty dishes. It’s like nothing happened. The thought upset her. Her life was shattered, changed forever; everything else should be different, too.

  It looked the same, smelled the same; the only thing changed was her view of the place. She couldn’t believe that the same apartment could appear so different without changing a wink.

  The last thing she wanted was coffee – she’d been up all night, and crying to boot – but she couldn’t bring herself to sit anywhere. She couldn’t bring herself to open the bedroom door. As the coffee dripped, Jade scanned the room. She hadn’t noticed any strange shoes or coats, for which she was glad, but that didn’t mean anything. If this had been going on as long as she suspected, they’d have grown as skilled at hiding the evidence as hiding the crime, itself.

  Walking into the bathroom, she nearly howled. Her reflection was a pitiful sight; no wonder Owen’s face contorted when he looked at her. Layers of sodden makeup crusted her face, her eyes bloodshot. Suddenly she wanted to shower – not wanted, needed. She unzipped her gown and let it
fall to the floor, a pool of shadowy regret at her feet.

  The water was hot, a little too hot, but the pain felt good. She scrubbed and lathered several times over before sitting down, the gravity of her circumstances tugging at her spirit. She was terrified.

  But you’re not afraid of what you might find, she rationalized. You’re afraid that you know what you’ll find. You’re afraid of what finding that would mean; what finding that would change.

  As she sat beneath the droplets, strategizing, the shower curtain slid open. Lewis knelt outside of the ceramic tub, his face streaked with worry.

  “Lewis! I -- ”

  “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been worried sick about you! Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

  He looked genuinely frantic, his face dancing between relief and anxiety. Jade looked down, silent. She wasn’t ready to do this yet. She still had so many words to organize in her mind.

  “I was at the mausoleum,” she explained. The dance on his face halted, replaced only with compassion.

  “By yourself? Why would you do that? That must have been so difficult – I told you I wanted to be there with you the first time.”

  Her rapid heart slowed and, for a moment, she almost forgot the night before. He had mentioned that to her; she knew that he understood what going to the mausoleum meant for her. He knew what it meant that she’d gone alone. Her lip began to tremble.

  “Hey,” he whispered, caressing her quivering lip with his thumb. “You did something really brave last night. You did something that was really, really hard and I’m proud of you.”

  She looked up at him, his eyes seeking hers, and she knew he meant it. She nearly exploded in laughter; she must be quite the sight, huddled up on the floor of the tub, a curtain of long, wet hair matting against her skin. She indulged him with a smile.