Brazen: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 2)

by Felisha Antonette

  Brazen

  Thoughts of a Wicked Mind

  The Sephlem Trials

  Felisha Antonette

  Brazen: Thoughts of a Wicked Mind

  The Sephlem Trials: A Dark Paranormal Romance

  Copyright © 2020 by Felisha Antonette

  FELIANT PUBLISHING

  www.felishaantonette.com

  Cover Design: MerryBookRound

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Read the free short story to The Sephlem Trials when you sign-up for Felisha Antonette’s Newsletter.

  For information contact:

  Felisha Antonette

  Connect@felishaantonette.com

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Nathan’s Intro

  Part I

  1. running interference

  2. dauntingly fooled

  3. silent interrogation

  4. delighted rejection

  5. firm certainty

  6. bind separation

  7. found missing

  8. effected cause

  9. daunting calling

  10. fate’s desire

  11. filled vacancy

  12. seriously funny

  13. delayed obstruction

  14. upward fall

  15. loud whispers

  16. seen invisible

  17. cool passion

  18. friendly takeover

  19. genuine imitation

  20. open secret

  21. definite maybe

  22. even odds

  23. intense apathy

  24. loyal opposition

  25. pretty ugly

  26. transparent night

  Part II

  27. absent presence

  28. cruel kindness

  29. clearly misunderstood

  30. comfortable misery

  31. distant hugs

  32. beggarly riches

  33. cheerful pessimist

  34. crash landing

  35. deafening silence

  36. bitter sweet

  37. sweet sorrow

  38. openly deceptive

  39. restricted opening

  40. alone together

  41. convenient irritant

  42. conspicuous absence

  43. eloquent silence

  Bonus Chapter

  About the Author

  Also by Felisha Antonette

  For the weirdos, like me

  It is not that I cannot live without the beat of her heart, but that beyond the beat of our heart there’s no reason to live. Beyond her, there is no fight. My feelings of addiction, obsession, admiration, and the passion I possess for this one girl are implausible. And if she only knew what just the sight of her did to me, there would be no doubt in my love. There’d be no need to question her adequacy. And the day this ends, the day these feelings fade will be the day she steals her life from us.

  -Nathan

  Part I

  running interference

  There’s this moment . . .

  This unusual moment in life when falling is inevitable. Thrashing through the clouds at one thousand miles per hour, it’s nearly like I’m floating; but with the turning in my stomach, and the rush against my back, I’m plummeting; plummeting in a way that wracks my world and twists my mind with hundreds of uncertain thoughts but thousands of certitudes. It’s seconds from hitting the ground that fear catches my breath and I slam against the splintered concrete. But that’s not it; it’s not where it ends. The force of the fall brings me to bounce back up just before I drop again. And here is where I’m stuck, right in between the rise and the fall. Right in between the rush of the drop and the pain from the landing.

  I’m kind of ready to end this aggressive descent, even if it’ll hurt when I land again.

  You can do this, Tracey, I try to encourage myself. I squeeze my eyes shut, counting down from ten. Resist it, I think to myself, gritting down on my teeth as I’m clutching the edges of my desk in my aching hands.

  Four one-thousand . . . Five one-thousand. . .

  I groan. Gah! I can’t!

  It doesn’t hurt, like a cut or a bruise would, but as cramping muscles ache and lock the body. There’s a craving in my chest that desires something I can’t provide, and an aggression that’s always charging through my veins from the requirement for Nathan that drives me insane.

  Nate, please come up here?

  Sparky, he carries in a grumble.

  Nathan, I complain.

  Sparks, baby. I literally. Lit-er-a-lly just left you like forty-five minutes ago.

  I slump in my chair, scraping my thumbnails over each other. A bubble builds in my chest as a masking irritation makes my skin crawl. I’m trying so hard to fight it, but it’s useless.

  Nathan’s sigh in my head is as annoying as it is relieving. I’ll come up there when you go to lunch. You’re killing me, Sparks.

  Thanks. This bond is killing me, I rant. I know, Nate. Don’t say it. And don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not liking being crazy over you. He laughs at me. I’m getting it all; love, lust, obsession. I’m losing my mind.

  We’ll talk later, okay? I need to get some work done with me cutting the day short.

  Me too. I grumble when I look over my trigonometry notes, comparing them to what’s on the whiteboard. They don’t match. I must’ve dazed out at some point and scribbled what I’d thought I’d heard.

  Senior year was a slice before spring break. Before bonding. Now, it’s a challenge. And it’s not because class work is getting harder or I’m not passing my tests, but focusing. I expected to be in control of the bond by now, but I’m coming up on month four of being bound and it’s as difficult as day one and getting worse. Most days, it’s beyond my control. Sometimes Nathan understands. Others, I’d bet I get on his nerves with my ‘neediness.’ It’s just that, enough of him will never be enough.

  Natalia tells me it’s supposed to get easier, but my being human plays a huge role in my acceptance. Apparently, though bonding can happen with humans, it’s not necessarily supposed to, especially not with Burdened Sephlems. This is the first time it’s happened in the Newcomb family and everyone’s playing each step by ear. When something new comes up I’m supposed to let them know. New things are popping up all the time.

  “Excuse the interruption, Mr. Stephens. I need Tracey Warren to come to the office,” Principal Hollander announces from the room’s intercom.

  A nervous panic spikes a double beat to my heart. I look over my shoulder at Scott sitting five seats behind me. He nods once and then whispers to Glen sitting beside him.

  Glen and Scott have been getting along so well, Scott had all his classes changed to Glen’s after we got back from Spring Break. They’re tied at the heart and the hip.

  “She will be there shortly,” Mr. Stephens informs. “Tracey,” he calls, throwing his hand toward the door, not caring one way or another.

  I ask Scott, What do you think?

  I’m not sure, but I’ll go with you, he thinks to me. To Glen, he whispers that we’re leaving.

  Before, bionic hearing was the best of my abilities; I’d eavesdrop on people, and I’d be able to hear creepers sneak up on me. I was wrong. It’s my second hardest ability to control; someone may speak at a regular octave, but I hear them shouting. Or someone is far away, but I hear them
right behind me.

  Scott soothes Glen’s raising objections with simple words and a kiss on her hand. Since the night Scott broke down and Glen finally came to terms with her insecurities, he’s been apt to be open and honest with everything. She’s yet to accept our family, but she’ll come around soon. We hope she’ll come around soon. Once two become mated, it’s felt throughout the family, and accepting our family fills a void that’s been taking a weakening toll on all of us. Before, I wondered why everyone was so gung-ho about my willingness or unwillingness to embed myself in the Newcomb family, but I get it now. With Glen’s hesitation, there’s a missing puzzle piece causing a space of separation between our family’s bond. When we’re all together and she’s around, there’s a pull toward her that makes me want to say anything I can to convince her to accept us. But that’s against the ‘free will’ rule.

  “Tracey, get going,” Mr. Stephens hurries. His button-down shirt stretches over his low sitting belly as he turns away from the whiteboard. Salt and pepper eyebrows lift high over his round frame spectacles, questioning my departing stall. “Now, please?” His unkempt beard bounces as he speaks, distracting me from Scott’s instruction.

  “I’m going. I’m going.” I slide out from behind my desk, snagging my bag from the floor.

  Scott’s not far behind, and Glen is hot on his heels.

  “Excuse me. I believe the office only called for Tracey. Where are you two going?” Mr. Stephens asks, raising his pale hand, palm facing us.

  Scott and I exchange neutral glances before continuing forward.

  “Mr. Fallon?” Mr. Stephens blocks our path, holding his bushy arms out at his sides in the manner a crossing guard would stop traffic for kiddos.

  Scott thrusts his fingers through his shoulder-length, honey-blond hair. Grumbles and swoons from our classmates follow this action. I shake my head at Glen to not spaz out. She should be used to it and expectant of the girls to want him even more now that he’s with her. “Mr. Stephens,” Scott starts, “there’s no way Tracey is leaving this room without me. So, she can return to her seat, or we will leave.” Scott gives a blank stare into Mr. Stephens’ eyes. The emerald in Scott’s irises slowly churn clockwise and Mr. Stephens matches Scott’s vacant expression.

  Nodding, Mr. Stephens sternly replies, “I understand, Scott.”

  “Thank you.” Scott nods as our hypnotized teacher moves from our path.

  I push the door closed, being the last of us to enter the hallway. “What do you think it is, Scott?”

  “Not sure.” The silent hall sends a shudder up my spine. “Something’s off, though. Call Nathan and let him know what’s up. Tell him to get a feel through you. He’s probably nearby.”

  I’d like to believe he is too. With Roehl being the highlight of most of our worries, I’m doubtful Nathan’s leaving anything to chance. Over the past months, Nathan and I have grown closer, as promised by the bond. I’m human but different; I see through new eyes, hear with new ears, my skin feels odd under my touch, and it all has to be due to the bond because when I get my “Nathan fix,” all this goes back to normal.

  There are a few new features about me that are taking some getting used to, too. A pet snake made of fire lives in my hand, and as I grow to understand and control it, the larger it grows. It’s extremely protective over Nathan and me, and it has a peculiar way of communicating through movement when it’s live. Ejection and consumption of fire is my super-ability; my hand blasts supernova fire orbs and I’ve mastered how to knock people off their feet!

  Presence affiliation is another interesting perk. I feel people; their auras crawl over my flesh and wash me in their presence in the way heat or cool would when stepping into a house from the outside of the opposite temp outdoors.

  Nathan’s been pretty supportive in helping me get a grip of all these things. He often knows when a new ability will pop up before I do with him being so intact with my body.

  Nate, where are you? They’re calling me to the office. Scott says something feels wrong.

  This is a hoax! he argues jokingly.

  It is not, I sing, laughing.

  I’m here.

  Un-huh, you sure got here fast. You just came, not knowing what was going on? If my heart double beats, he’s there, though he may act as if I’m bothering him. That is what’s a hoax. I’ve not had many experiences with love before falling for Nathan, but I’m glad my final love will be one that doesn’t question reliance or accountability. I’d prefer for love to just show up and I not need it than for it to not show up at all.

  His presence is commanding, blanketing my entire body, easing the pinch in my neck and the uneasiness of the day. I roll my shoulders as I turn on my heels to face him.

  He and our cousin, Olar, are striding down the hall in my direction. Olar’s come to stay for a while, something to do with the three eels Nathan and Scott had battled a while back. He’s in connection to whatever debt they had to pay and now, someone’s looking for him. Lunis, I believe, was the name.

  My insides are having a party with zipping birds and fluttering butterflies as I watch my mate approach. I hope my outsides don’t give me away. “Hi,” I chirp.

  “Your outsides are a dead giveaway.” Nathan meets me, pushing his hands around my waist. “Hey, Sparks. Your smile is huge and your cheeks are red.” He kisses me, and through it, I can tell our hour apart affected him too. We save our deep, feel him down to my core, kissing my soul caresses for when we’re behind closed doors; but that’s what I want right now. For him to wrap those giant hands around my hips, lift me up as I squeeze his waist between my legs, and we go at it against one of these lockers. Nathan laughs, breaking away from me. “Oh my God, Sparks. Where do you get this shit?”

  I bashfully scratch my forehead. “One day, I’ll be able to keep my thoughts to myself.”

  Laughing, Nathan grabs my hands and pulls them around his neck. “I’d do that,” he drawls, his hands sliding from my arms to my hips. “And make you feel it very, very deep.” His bottom lip draws between his teeth before he concludes, “But you’d be the color of an apple before I could pin you to the locker. And terribly embarrassed.”

  “Would you two cut that flirty crap so we can figure out what’s going on?” Scott, the interrupter, interrupts.

  “He’s right,” Nathan says, breaking out of the smallest ounce of intimacy we’ve seen in months. We’ve not had a moment alone since the night we were in his room after things went sour with Taylor. The lack of intimacy in our relationship drives me crazy. It’s the bond, I know, but sometimes I need a longer hug, a deeper kiss, and a night or two spent with us eye gazing and talking about nothing, like before. I’d be fine if this overbearing craving for him wasn’t so bad. But it is. And there’s proof.

  A month ago, I’d caught Nathan’s kitchen on fire, which was also new. We had been going at it hard in his kitchen; his body pressed against mine and my hands lost somewhere under his shirt. Little Nathan and Roseland had walked in, darting their snarky jokes regarding our actions at us. When Little Nathan had yanked Nathan away from me I’d reached out for him and erupted in flames. It was scary as hell! The fire was spurting everywhere from me—my hands, arms, sides, legs! I consumed it, settling the blaze, but it ruined the kitchen. Nathan had to paint the walls and replace most of the counters, furniture, and appliances.

  He won’t admit it, but Nathan’s there too. He has a lot going on with trying to manage the way the bond is affecting him, dealing with the growing pains of his family, Roehl, and a bunch of other things I’m in the dark on. I witnessed one of his episodes his family had warned me about. Six days ago, actually, he and Olar had got into it heavily, and honestly, it was for no reason. I couldn’t convince them of that. Nathan had got out of his car and slammed the door so hard the entire door had shoved through the car! Even angrier at that point, he had slammed his fist on the roof and crushed it. He was out of control and went as far as kicking the driver’s rearview mirror off and ri
pping off the door on the driver’s side backseat. Trying to calm him was out of the question. He hasn’t spazzed out since then, but we’re all on alert. His car’s still at the shop. But better the car than Olar.

  Nathan and I walk into the main office, leaving the others to wait in the hall. “I’m here,” I tell the clerk.

  “What took you so long?” Mrs. Carline nags, snatching off glasses. She’s a mean old lady we all try our best to avoid. I’m quite sure that in another life, she was a witch of the worst kind. The kind of witch who lured young children into the woods and ate them, which is why her newer life’s profession is working at a school. “We called you almost an hour ago, girl. And who is this? You cannot be in here, young man. You will need to wait outside until she’s finished,” she fires off, waggling her glasses in Nathan’s direction.

  Nathan flashes his award-winning smirk; the one that dents a dimple in his cheek and darkens his eyes to a swoon worthy gaze. “Mrs. Carline,” he drawls. “I’m not waiting outside. I’m going where she goes. If you need Tracey to go in there,” he points across his chest to the closed door leading to the principal’s office, “I’m going with her. Okay?” His entrancing voice has me nodding in agreement too.

  “Yes. . .” Mrs. Carline replies as she retakes the seat behind the desk. She hacks away at the keyboard of her computer as her glossed-over eyes remain fixed on Nathan.