Shipwrecked & Horny: A What Could Possibly Go Wrong Bad Boy Romance (Bad Boys After Dark Book 10)

by Gabi Moore

  And then it started changing. The sun was setting, and the dusk outside moved into the apartment. Ramona’s humming quieted and vanished as night drew on, but no lights were turned on, and outside the world was black. By the time Aurora realised how dark it had become, it was complete, no moon, no stars. Not even street lights. She looked down at the picture she’d been drawing.

  It had been a picture of her father’s face, but of course, she couldn’t see it, now. Lost again.

  The table disappeared. The chair disappeared. And though she tried to hold on to it, the picture, too, vanished straight from her hand as if it had turned to smoke. Aurora was floating in the dark, and recognised at last the dream she’d known so well for far too long.

  She twisted and thrashed in the dark; it felt more alive than ever. It felt like a real palpable thing, and it terrified her. Like the coils of a great snake that could constrict around her, suffocate her, any moment. She had to get out.

  And then, there it was. The hand, as always. More felt than seen, it filled Aurora with dread. So much dread, in fact, that normally she shocked herself awake at this point. But this time, the dream persisted, and Aurora was carried along with it, towards the hand, and she had a choice before her. Should she take it?

  Meanwhile, in the dream, Aurora put out her hands hesitantly. If she took the offered help, she would be pulled out of the darkness, that much was clear to her. But to where? To somewhere better? Or somewhere much worse?

  She wasn’t able to make the choice. Long before a decision was reached, Aurora found herself being shaken by the shoulders, shaken back into the world of the living.

  “Aurora. Hey! Wake up!”

  She blinked awake, surprised to find herself not in her bed, and in fact, not even on furniture. She was on someone’s floor, someone leaning over her now, worried.

  It was Lucien. She was in his apartment. Her own apartment was destroyed, besieged by the shadow creatures. Mr. Cheng. Madame Moreau. Her mother. Her father.

  Aurora’s breathing grew shallow.

  “Hey, calm down,” Lucien told her, helping her stand. She was still in her clothes from yesterday. She might have been out partying all night, complete with the outfit; Aurora had never been out partying all night, but she guessed this was what it felt like. Long before she managed to get back on her feet, she realized the boots were still on.

  “Ahrrgh,” she moaned, sitting back on the couch. Time to take off these boots, since she’d already made herself comfortable. What had she been thinking? She was acting like someone who was dying to get raped and murdered. Since when did she fall asleep alone in a total stranger’s house? Her mother had taught her better than that.

  Of course, Ramona Potier was gone. Aurora pulled off her boots as tears crept into her eyes. Gone, without a trace.

  “Hey, do you have a bathroom?” Aurora asked.

  Lucien was kind enough not to point out the redundancy of that question, and instead directed her down the hall at the other end of the living room. Aurora shut herself in the, and looked in the mirror.

  Her hair was bent like a deflated basketball. Her S&M clothes were creased and dull and had left red lines on her skin where they’d folded together. Her make-up from yesterday night was a disaster. She looked like a coked-up hooker, and she only felt a little better.

  Aurora thought about asking to take a shower, but she didn’t have anything for her hair, or any clean clothes, so she contented herself with scrubbing her face and neck the best she could. For a guy, Lucien kept his bathroom pretty clean, with fresh towels and a laundry basket. Impressive.

  She had her make-up in her purse, if she wanted to apply more, but by the time she scoured last night’s mask off, Aurora wasn’t in the mood to slather more on. She was barely able to tame her hair into an agreeable plait. Barely. Not much to look at, and less to smell, but at least she didn’t look like someone’s drunken mistake.

  By the time she left the bathroom, Lucien was in the kitchen. Smelled like coffee, which was fine with Aurora. She walked over to the window, which was covered in blinds, drapes, and yet more charms, and started to push them aside to look out.

  “Don’t do that,” Lucien called from the kitchen. “It’s about noon. We have to leave the windows covered, though, or else the wards on them won’t work.”

  Aurora dropped her hand, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

  “So… you never open the windows?”

  “Nope.”

  From behind her another voice spoke up casually. “That would defeat the purpose of a ward.”

  Aurora jumped and spun around; it was Milo, sitting at the kitchen table with his head back on his shoulders and his eyes closed. She’d walked practically right past him without even noticing in the gloom.

  “Turn on some lights! Jesus!” Aurora hissed, her heart pounding. These people were determined to give her a heart attack!

  “The switches are over there,” Milo waved at the wall behind her. “Don’t turn them all on. I’m still trying to get just a little more sleep…”

  Aurora fiddled around with the light switches and managed to get the light over the table on. Milo groaned and slunk off to the couch instead. “Too bright…”

  “If you want some coffee, there’s a pot ready,” he told her. He was carrying his own mug, and sat down in Milo’s vacated seat at the table. Already, snoring from the couch told her that Milo was asleep again. On the love-seat opposite, Lester had his legs folded over the arm and was passed out peacefully.

  “Thank you.” Aurora found herself a mug and the sugar. She liked coffee, but it had a bad affect with some of her mom’s medicines, so they never kept it in the apartment. She’d only bought it on the way to work once or twice; no time for it at Witching Hour, and Madame Moreau disapproved of them keeping drinks in the back near the clothes.

  At the thought of Moreau, Aurora sighed. She was gone, and Aurora hadn’t even known anything about her. She’d been part of this—whatever this was—for so long, keeping the secret, and then she’d passed away before Aurora could understand who she really was. With all her other losses, it wasn’t top of the list, but it made Aurora sad all the same.

  With her coffee, she joined Lucien at the table. He looked a little less intimidating sitting at his kitchen table, surrounded by magic charms, drinking coffee from a mug that had the logo of for the Red Sox on the side. Aurora smiled.

  “Red Sox fan?”

  Lucien snapped his attention to her; he’d been thinking of something else, obviously, miles away. But he grinned again, that wide white-toothed grin, and looked down at the mug in his hands. “Yeah, since I was a kid.”

  “So you’ve lived in New York since you were young?”

  “All my life,” Lucien agreed.

  Aurora paused, trying to imagine how to phrase this next question. “So, uh… when were you… like… when did you get… bit…?” It was a terribly personal (not to mention a terribly odd) question, but Aurora couldn’t help it. He’d said he was going to take over for Cheng, who was a shapeshifter. Unless she’d just imagined all of yesterday in a great fit of psychological shock. Not impossible.

  She was sort of expecting anger from him, but Lucien just smiled a small smile and asked, “Bit? Like, howling at the moon, bit?”

  Aurora reddened. “I didn’t—I mean, I thought that’s how… Sorry.”

  He laughed. “Don’t be. You’re not completely wrong. There are those sorts of shapeshifters out there. Legends and myths always have some seeds of truth. But I was born this way. It’s genetic, for me, although no one in my family’s had it for a long, long time.”

  Aurora’s eyes were wide. “Do you turn into a tiger?”

  “My most natural shape is a big wolf,” Lucien replied, taking another sip of coffee. “I’m learning to adopt others, though. Cheng can turn into quite a few, but he’s had a long, long time to practice.”

  “How old is he? Like, seventy?”

  Lucien shook his head. “T
ry two hundred fifty.”

  Aurora stared. “That’s… not possible.”

  Lucien snorted into his coffee. “After all you’ve seen, you’re still going to think about what’s possible and not possible?”

  Aurora couldn’t argue that. She sat and sipped her coffee for a while instead; everything had happened in a whirlwind. This time yesterday she had been handling the store, thinking with a little nervousness about the future, whether she’d still have a job at Moreau’s, and how she would pay rent if not.

  A horrible though occurred. How on earth was she going to afford to fix the apartment? She had never been able to afford renter’s insurance.

  Her heart began palpating. Perhaps it seems odd, after all she’d been through, to be so terrified over such a simple thing, but to explain, Aurora had lived all her adult life with the threat of the money running out just over her head. There had been late fees that she had had to crawl out from under. Short term loans that had nearly set them on the streets. It had taken years to reach a level of security in their finances, and that sort of long-lived stress is not forgotten in one night of extraordinary events.

  The figures were piling furiously in Aurora’s head, and her grip on the coffee mug had gotten very tight. And this—when she was going to miss work from both her jobs for the foreseeable future!

  Meanwhile, her face had gone sickly pale, and Lucien was watching her, worried.

  “Hey,” he tried to soothe her. He set a hand on her shoulder gently. Aurora jumped and looked at him with wide eyes. “Hey, don’t be afraid. I know it’s a lot to be dumped on you at once, but we’re here to protect you.”

  Aurora, who had forgotten all about the supernatural events of the previous night, looked at him in anxious confusion.

  “What?”

  He repeated himself, slower. Aurora shook her head. “No, that’s not it. I just… oh God, I don’t know how I’m going to pay for the apartment. I’ll never be able to rent again if I don’t pay for the repairs… and next month’s rent is due in a couple weeks. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  She rubbed her face, and her heart continued to thrum out of time in her ribcage like a discordant song.

  Carefully, Lucien took both her hands. “Aurora. Look this way.”

  She shook her head, too full of anxiety.

  “Aurora.”

  She glanced one hazel eye up at his face. Lucien took a deep breath and squeezed her hands. “Aurora, that’s gone, now. Your bills are gone. Your apartment—gone. We’ll get it cleaned and taken care of. You’re not going to be living there anymore. It’s not safe. You’re in this now, and we’re going to take care of everything.”

  Aurora hardly dared to breathe. “What?” she whispered.

  Lucien let her hands go. “This coven has existed for centuries, ever since humans settled here permanently. Moreau and Cheng have had guardianship for a hundred years—and we have accounts set up for this sort of thing. We had to be hands-off before, to keep secret. But you’re one of us, now. You don’t have to worry about money again.”

  Dazed, she stared at him, not really comprehending. Aurora could not imagine a life without worrying about money, not at all. It had been on her mind constantly for five years, and often enough before that. They would take care of it? She’d never had anyone say that to her.

  “What do I have to do?” she said finally. That was the only possibility. What on earth could they want of her to make such an offer?

  Lucien shook his head. “Only what you had to do, anyway. Ian—your father—wants to see you, one way or another. We’re going to be with you constantly, from now on. Lester managed to rebuild some lesser wards around you; it will take him some time to sort through Moreau’s magic and make sense of what she gave him.

  “But all you have to do now is stay alive,” Lucien told her. “If your father manages to kill you, we will have lost our chance to get rid of him, and another one might not come around for a while.”

  “Get rid of him?”

  Lucien nodded. “Our circle is incomplete. Not only is Ian refusing to cooperate, he’s taken Ylessa. She’s the fifth member, and very fragile. He managed it when Moreau first started getting weak.”

  “Ylessa is… what did she say… a fairy?”

  “You would call her that. She’s life, and earth. Opposite to Ian’s death. He was only able to capture her because she’s frail, but without her, we’re only three.”

  “Three? But… you, Milo, Cheng, Lester… and you want me to join—”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Lucien reminded her patiently. “There are five openings, and Lester just took Moreau’s. I will take Cheng’s place when the time comes. Like you have to take your father’s place. That’s what you have to do, whether we help you or not. We might not get another chance like this to take him down.”

  “So you want me to kill him?”

  “Yes,” Lucien agreed flatly. “He’s too dangerous to be running around loose, and we can’t have a fifth until he chooses one. Thankfully, he already chose you, whether he meant to or not.”

  And that was that; Aurora gazed into her coffee mug, disquieted.

  They expected her to do to her father what Lester had done to Moreau? When her father was some sort of… vampire? Probably not like in the movies, but surely it wasn’t an easy thing, what they were asking. How did they think she was going to get near him?

  And then… was she going to kill the only parent she had left? She had waited all her life to meet him, angrily, resentfully, but always hopefully. And now, suddenly, it was upon her to end him.

  “Why five?” Finally Aurora had to ask. This whole business was so mysterious, and so outrageous. Maybe if she could just start to figure out what the hell was going on…

  Lucien was mid-way through a sip of coffee, and thought about his answer before giving it. It wasn’t lost on Aurora that over on the couch, Milo had ceased snoring. Almost as soon as she realized, the snoring began again, but she didn’t comment. “There are five points of the pentacle,” Lucien began, intoning, with the sound of a story many times told. “And there are five guardians in a circle. We aren’t the only ones; these circles are all over the world.”

  “For what?”

  “Protection.”

  “Protect who? From what?”

  Lucien rotated his huge shoulders, stretching. “To protect humanity, from itself.”

  Aurora’s face must have given away her bafflement, because Lucien smiled and nodded his head. “To be more specific, to protect what it good of humanity from its own evil. Evil has a natural advantage: it’s easy. Usually wicked things lead to personal gain, or at least personal enjoyment. As a result, entire religions have been constructed, laws written, governments raised, just to the purpose of keeping humankind from devolving into a mass of semi-civilized martial chaos.”

  “You take a dim view of things,” Aurora pointed out coolly.

  “You get that way after a few years of this,” Lucien answered with raised eyebrows. “That’s where we come in. You see, there’s a balance of energy—magic, electricity, energy, feng-shui, whatever—and it has the capability of influencing humankind one way or another. A long time ago—like, biblical times—it was discovered that between some, special people, a sort of… well, they call it a center, but it’s like a filter, a place where energy is drawn in and purified, and then sent back out again.”

  For this speech, Aurora had sat with her mouth hanging open, her eyebrows drawn together. She was still sitting this way now as Lucien looked her over, examining her face for signs of skepticism or maybe even belief. He saw neither, so he continued.

  “But the human population has multiplied since this system first began, and industrialization clogs the energy paths further. We have more to do and a harder time doing it, and for the last twenty years, here in New York, we haven’t even been able to do our job right. Ian ran off when he realized he’d screwed up royally, and until we get our numbe
rs back, we’re basically just sitting around.”

  Aurora closed her mouth. “So New York is like it is because you haven’t been able to… clean the energy paths?”

  Lucien waved his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. “New York is gonna be New York no matter what we do. But unless we’re able to filter the energy like usual, negative auras will collect here. It’s inevitable as hair going down a shower drain.”

  “Nice analogy.”

  “I try.”

  Hesitant, Aurora tried again. “So it’ll get… worse?”

  Lucien leveled a steady stare at her and took a long drink of his coffee. “Worse and worse. And bigger, too. It will spread like a hurricane, over New York state, over New England. Over North America. That would take hundreds of years, but for every filter that fails, it gets easier, and the world gets darker.”

  “Don’t let Lucien scare you too bad,” Milo said from the couch.

  “We should all be scared,” Lucien replied gravely. “Humanity invented pollution, nuclear war, mustard gas, torture. What else will we come up with if the energy paths are left unchecked?”

  This was all sounding too freaky for Aurora’s liking. She’d heard a lot so far, and not much of it had made her very hopeful. If she hadn’t seen so much with her own eyes, she’d think they were all crazy. Not too late for that, she thought wryly. Maybe I’m crazy, too.

  “So what are we doing today?” she asked. Might as well find out, before another panic attack hit. Or worse… she could sink back into the pleasant, molasses-slow numbness of last night… feeling nothing… Aurora shook that thought off quickly and waited for someone to answer.

  When Milo said nothing, Lucien sighed. “Mr. Cheng would have come here by now if he could, so I’m going to go look for him. And I’m thinking if Lester wants to try and put a ward on me and get some practice, that couldn’t hurt.”

  Lester was still sleeping soundly on the loveseat.

  “Where did he come from?” Aurora asked, genuinely curious.

  Lucien smiled sadly. “He used to work on the delivery truck for Moreau’s. The year before last. He lied and told them he was eighteen and had been working under the table—it turns out, he’d ‘helped’ himself look a little older when he applied, so the company didn’t ask questions. Moreau caught whiff of his magic right away. I guess he’s strong, but he… he really needed more time.”