Hexed (The Gwen Sparks Series Book 4)

by Nelson, Stephanie

  “Gwen,” another man’s voice said, bringing me out of the seductive haze of the stranger. I opened my eyes slowly and the stranger was gone. Dorian stood ten feet in front of me dressed in only jeans. My eyes traced the cut of his muscles, highlighted and shadowed by the glow of the fire. Where the stranger was beautiful, Dorian was edgy. The promise of danger clung to him, provoking something inside of me.

  When he reached me, Dorian wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me into his arms without a word. My legs wrapped around his hard waist and, before I could make sense of what was happening, Dorian was kissing me. He claimed my mouth as though it was his to claim, not wasting time with sensual seductions. When his tongue penetrated the seal of my lips, I opened my mouth and welcomed him inside. The first stroke of his tongue against mine sent a jolt sizzling between my legs. My behind sat in Dorian’s strong hands, his fingers squeezing the plump flesh as he moved me against his body. The ripples of his stomach caused the sweetest friction between my legs.

  “He can’t have you, Gwen,” he breathed against my lips.

  “Who?” I whispered.

  A smirk tugged one side of his mouth up, cocky and confident.

  I only realized I’d been dreaming when my eyes opened and the ceiling of my bedroom greeted me. Running a hand over my face, I sat up and took in the darkened space. I was still wearing the clothes from the day before, having collapsed onto the mattress as soon as Dorian showed me to my room. The alarm clock beside the bed said that it was just after five in the morning. I hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep, but I was too wound up from the dream to try for a few more z’s.

  Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stared out of the small window beside the dresser. Taking a few minutes, I thought about my life in hopes of remembering something. When only blankness swirled through my brain, I put my head in my hands and grumbled into my palms. Though it had only been a day since I lost my memory, it felt a lot longer. Nothing made sense to me now, and that only aggravated me.

  The sound of a door shutting brought me out of my thoughts. Standing, I padded toward my door and opened it just enough that I could see into the hall. There was a room across from mine and a sliver of light spilled from beneath the door. Was that Dorian’s room? As soon as the thought crossed my mind I knew it wasn’t. I’d seen a man’s duffel bag sitting on my bedroom floor, which meant Dorian stayed in my room. The idea of having him in my bed caused a mixture of excitement and fear. I still wasn’t sure what to think about that man, or what being with him said about my character. How serious could Dorian and I be, though, if he didn’t even know what was going on between us? Something about that made me feel a little better. Maybe he’d just been a fling, a bad judgment on a lonely night. He had been helpful in his own way, but that didn’t mean I trusted him. He put me on edge, an instinctual feeling telling me to be cautious.

  Opening the door further, I tiptoed down the hall toward the kitchen. I’d been looking toward the living room, afraid I may wake Dorian. However, when my gaze swept toward the kitchen, I jerked at seeing him sitting at the table. My hand flew to my chest as my heart jumpstarted. He sat with his elbows propped up and hands clasped with his head resting atop his knuckles. At my arrival, he lifted his head and my jaw dropped. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. Moving closer, I stared at his bizarre eyes.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, leaning back against the chair. I was aware he asked a question, but my focus was on the gray clouds swirling through his sockets. There was no pupil, just fogginess. Realizing I was making the ‘what the hell face’, I dropped my gaze.

  “What?” I asked, swiveling my head to search for the coffeepot.

  “I’m Death, Gwen,” Dorian replied.

  I stopped my search for coffee. “What?”

  He inhaled a deep breath through his nose and leaned onto the table again. Now that his eyes were on the tabletop, I noticed the cut of his arms. The cotton on his t-shirt fit snuggly around his biceps, which only made me think of that scandalous dream. Why couldn’t I have dreamt about my life, something to help me remember? More than that, why did I have to dream about two men? Wasn’t one enough to entertain my dreams?

  “That’s why my eyes are the way they are,” Dorian explained. “I am the angel of Death.”

  I stilled in the middle of the kitchen, shocked at the news. I was involved with the angel of Death?

  “I sense you have questions,” Dorian said. I just now noticed how tired his voice sounded, and I wondered if he had slept at all. Did angels sleep?

  “Do you have wings?” As soon as the question was out of my mouth, I cringed. Do you have wings? Seriously?

  Dorian chuckled. “In a sense, yes. And no, I do not carry a scythe or wear a black robe.” He half turned to look at me, a smirk on his face. “Just in case you were wondering.”

  Another thought occurred to me, and just like before, I couldn’t stop it from leaving my lips. “But you and I…we…I slept with a…is that…never mind.” Racing over to the coffeepot, I got to work at making a fresh pot and tried to ignore Dorian’s gaze at my back. When God created humans, he should have made us mute until we consumed at least three cups of coffee. I was convinced that after my veins were laced with caffeine, I could carry on an articulate conversation.

  “I’m not the harp playing, halo wearing, white wings kind of angel, cupcake.” Dorian stood and walked over to me. Leaning his hip against the counter, he stood sideways so that he was staring down at me.

  “Why are you so flustered this morning?” Dorian asked. “Is it because you don’t remember me and knowing we were intimate embarrasses you?” He tilted his head to the side. The clouds in his eyes crawled slowly across his sockets, and I found myself lost in their abyss.

  “Gwen?”

  Blinking, I focused on Dorian’s face again. “Yeah, it’s a little awkward, but it’s more than that. I’m trying to figure out who I was and knowing I was with someone like you…” I looked down. “Was it because I also deal with the dead? Are supernaturals attracted to their own kind?” When I looked up, Dorian’s features had hardened. His lips were now just a straight line across his mouth, and his eyebrows pulled together, forming a wrinkle between his eyes.

  “Someone like me?”

  “I just mean,” I started and then paused, trying to think of what I did mean. “I’m trying to figure out what attracted me to you, I guess. When someone gets involved with someone else, it says a lot about his or her character.” I paused to think. “At least, I think it does. Like say you’re a horrible person. Wouldn’t that mean that I am also horrible?”

  Dorian’s features softened the slightest bit, though I didn’t know why; everything I said sounded like an insult. It’s the lack of caffeine, I told myself.

  “I had a dream,” I continued.

  “A dream?” Dorian asked.

  I nodded. “That’s why I’m awake. I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

  “What kind of dream?”

  Though embarrassing, I knew I should tell him. “There was a dark-haired man, very good-looking with blue eyes. He and I, well, we sorta made out. He called me ‘my Gwen’.” Dorian frowned and looked away. Something about me dreaming about an imaginary man upset him, which only made me wonder if we were more serious than Dorian let on.

  “Do I know anyone fitting the description of that man?”

  Dorian stared down at me for a long time in silence as though debating whether he should tell me the truth or not. His hesitance confirmed that I did know the other man in my dream. Since I had lost my memories, I kind of thought I knew him. I hadn’t seen anyone that looked like that while I was running around town. One random piece of information I remembered was learning that our brains could not conjure up random faces in our dreams. Those featured in our sleeping worlds could be random people we see throughout the day and just not remember. However, if I saw someone resembling the man from my dream, I would have taken notice. He was that beautiful.

/>   “Who is he, Dorian?”

  “Sounds like the vampire,” Dorian remarked with distaste. “He could be pulling you into his dreams through your bond.”

  “Vampire? Bonded?” While Micah had informed me that monsters existed, I hadn’t really thought about what that meant. There were really vampires, and I was bonded to one. Why?

  “Aiden,” Dorian said. “Your ex. He bonded with you a couple weeks ago.”

  I turned my back toward the cabinets and leaned my behind against the counter. Crossing my arms, I stared at the yellowing linoleum floor.

  “What does being bonded mean? Is it…dangerous?”

  “For him,” Dorian bit out and then looked over at me. “Yes, it can be dangerous but—as much as I hate to admit it—I don’t think Aiden would harm you. It just means you’re always aware of each other. Some of the more talented vampires can pull you into their dreams.”

  “I don’t think he pulled me into his dream,” I said.

  “Why’s that?”

  Spinning back around, I filled the filter with grounds and the tank with water, pushing the start button. Dorian reached out to me and brushed my curtain of dark hair over my shoulder so he could see my face.

  “You were there,” I admitted. “You stopped it—us—from going any further. The other man disappeared.” I looked back at the coffeepot. “Can I pull people into my dreams, or was it just a dream?”

  “You and Aiden were together and then I showed up?” Dorian mumbled as though he was talking to himself rather than me. I risked a glance at him and found him…smiling.

  “What?”

  “There are two possible scenarios, both of which are good,” Dorian said. “Aiden either conjured a dream for the two of you and your imagination created me within it, breaking his hold over your sleeping mind, or your memories are resurfacing.”

  I perked up at that. “You really think my memories could be coming back?” I’d worry about being bonded to a vampire later. At the moment, the prospect of regaining my mind took higher priority.

  “Maybe Micah was right, and all you needed was some sleep for the spell to wear off,” Dorian said.

  I chewed on my bottom lip. “Yeah, but I still don’t remember anything.” I tried to conjure any semblance of memories and hit the same static wall I had before. My hope deflated with the knowledge that nothing had changed.

  “Hey,” Dorian said soothingly, “all of this will be fixed today. If Micah cannot get the woman to reverse the spell, I will.” Something about the way he said that caused me to look up at him with concern.

  “How?”

  “I think it’s best you don’t know,” Dorian responded, turning away from me. “You already don’t trust me.”

  “My mind has been wiped,” I retorted. “I don’t trust anybody.” Dorian and I watched each other for a few long moments.

  “I’m one of the few people you can trust, Gwen. The things I’ve done for you…”

  The coffeepot beeped, interrupting the tension between Dorian and me. While I really wanted a cup of liquid caffeine, I needed to know what Dorian meant.

  “What have you done?”

  Dorian gave me a sad smile, his lips thinned but curled at the edges. As we stared at one another, that something in my gut tightened again. What the hell was that?

  “What I had to,” Dorian finally said. Before I could ask him any more questions, he grabbed his leather jacket off the coat rack and left the apartment.

  I NEEDED TO get out of that apartment, away from Gwen. Not being able to touch her was killing me, even more so, the hesitation in her eyes whenever she looked me. To keep my mind off things, I headed toward Flora’s cemetery. It was my job to police the spirits after all. I might as well get in some work until I heard from Micah.

  As I rode my bike toward the outskirts of town, I contemplated not stopping. Crossing Flora’s border and leaving the chaos Gwen had caused in my head was tempting. Things were so much easier before her. Gwen believed that I met her because her former NAWC leader, Holly, wished it, but that wasn’t true. Amara, one of the Fates, had directed me toward Moon. From time to time she would alert me to a spirit walker that needed guidance. The world was vast, and I couldn’t sense all of them. Most of the time witches that had the spirit walker powers had their own teachers, people capable of instructing. I only intervened for special cases, those abusing their power or those without any guidance.

  Amara stated that she’d had a vision about Gwen and that I needed to intercept her in Moon. She wouldn’t tell me what the vision had been and at the time I hadn’t really cared. I’d known Amara for as long as I could remember and trusted her. It had been easy to worm my way into the NAWC. Using Holly’s need for vengeance against her had gained me entry. I could never tell Gwen why I had been sent to her; Amara was always very clear that subjects should not know their destinies and, even though I didn’t know what the vision was, I agreed. If people knew the truth of their lives, it would only distract them from living. But, the more I got to know Gwen, the more curious I got about what Amara had seen. My own curiosity would go unfilled though; Amara never divulged her visions to me. The best I could hope for were cryptic rhymes that never made any sense.

  When Amara directed me to Gwen, I never would have imagined the effect she would have on me. I felt like I needed to walk away, but my feet were unwilling to move. I wanted to wring Amara’s neck for all of this. More than that, I wanted the unwelcomed feelings to cease, and yet, I yearned for more of them. It was hell incarnate inside my head, and it was all because of the pretty little spirit walker I called cupcake.

  I parked my bike outside of the crumbling stone wall surrounding the cemetery. A tall wrought iron gate choked in wild vines welcomed grievers. I could sense the death lurking beyond the barrier. Moving through the gate, I smiled to myself as ghosts disappeared into their graves in fear of me. There was only one reason why I visited graveyards, and it wasn’t to check on the ghosts wellbeing.

  “Eddie,” I called out, walking toward a grave I knew he frequented. Gwen and I had found him haunting a bed and breakfast in Massachusetts, and he had followed us home. I cringed that I’d just included us and home in the same sentence. Shaking off the misnomer, I sent out my feelers for the ghost. There was something lurking beneath the surface of death, something unnatural. Most people fear dying, look at death as something dark, but it’s just as natural as life. Over the millennia, I’d seen the torment people had gone through by losing their loved ones. They cursed me for taking their family and rejoiced when a baby was born. They would never understand that without death, you couldn’t have life. Even the trees lost their leaves to grow new ones. It’s a circle, an unyielding system that all balances the universe. I just happen to keep the death side balanced. However, there was something very off about that power tonight.

  Life brings warmth and death cold. Today, the cold overpowered the warmth. I had never experienced anything like it. In all my existence, there had never been a problem with the balance before. I continued to move through the cemetery, focusing my attention on connecting with my power. It whooshed through my chest and swirled like a tornado before it passed through and scattered.

  “What the hell?” I mumbled to myself.

  “You feel it, don’t you?”

  I looked up to find Eddie hovering just a couple feet in front of me. He died in the seventies and was forever clothed in bell-bottom jeans and a t-shirt that read Volvo across the front. His muddy hair was long and shaggy, tied back with a leather cord. I sometimes used him as a messenger or spy. Since ghosts could hide their presence, he was the perfect man for the job I had in mind.

  “How long has this been going on?”

  Eddie floated closer. “We noticed a shift a few weeks ago, but it was so slight that we didn’t pay much attention to it, man. It’s getting stronger.”

  How had I not noticed it? I’ve been too damn distracted by Gwen. Now that I was aware of it, it sent me on edge. The
problem was, I didn’t know who to confide in. It wasn’t like I had a mentor to go ask questions. The only person who might have an idea as to what was happening was Amara.

  “I need you to do something for me,” I told Eddie. “There’s a new bakery in town—Twisted Treats—I need you to tail the owner. You’ll know it is her by the retro garb she wears. I want to know if she’s conversing with anyone suspicious and what sort of magic she’s practicing. Got it?”

  Eddie nodded slowly, a lazy look crossing his face. “Yeah, man, I got it.”

  “This is top priority, which means if you don’t take it seriously, I’ll book your ass on a one way trip to the realm of the dead.”

  Eddie held up his hands in surrender. “Chill, dude. I said I got it.”

  I nodded, turning around and heading back down the path that would lead me out of the graveyard. Just as I reached the gate, I caught sight of fading colors hovering around a bush along the stone wall. Pixies. They zoomed around the dying shrub, their little bodies bleeding bright colors into the early morning gray.

  Kneeling down, I inspected the leaves they were trying to bring back to life. I watched in awe as they turned bright green, only to wither before my eyes. Now I understood why the pixies were in such a frenzy. It was in their nature to breathe life into dying plants, and this one wouldn’t stay alive. The more they flitted around the bush, the quicker it withered.

  Standing, I stared down at the relentless pixies. There was something very, very wrong in Flora, and it was my job to fix it.

  I CRADLED MY coffee cup in both hands, absorbing the warmth, and stared down at a collage of photographs. Bending at the waist, I inspected a picture of a young girl and me with our arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. She had the same dark hair and light eyes as me. A relative maybe? Standing up, I moved down the wall, my eyes taking in all the décor in the living room. Desperation soaked through me as I tried to connect something, anything. This not remembering crap was getting old. I knew this apartment was mine, but I felt like a stranger invading someone else’s space. Nothing called out to me.