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

by Felisha Antonette

  “Do not let me catch you two sleeping in the same bed together again. Not until you’re married, if that remains in your plans. And when you are here, Nathan, I would like to know about it. And please do not get pregnant. Your dad will kill all three of us.” I knew that was coming. And with her assumption the other day, I expected this to be worse.

  I get up to hug her, wrapping my arms around her chest as I stand behind her chair. “Thanks, Mom.” I appreciate her being accepting of my relationship. It won’t be this easy to convince Dad this evening.

  She hugs my arms. “Right. You avoided my question before, but you two do not have . . . sex, do you?” she asks awkwardly.

  And rightfully so, because I am not prepared to tell that truth. I’ve lied enough today, and we will not even begin to have that talk. “I think that’s enough Q and A for one morning, Mom.” I kiss her cheek and add, “We’re going to Nathan’s house to get everyone prepared for our family meet and greet tonight. We’ll come back so you and Dad can trail us over.”

  “Slick way to get out of that, honey.”

  Nathan stands from the table, also ready to escape Mom, I assume. “We’re being safe, Karen. You don’t have to worry about becoming a grandmother any time soon. You have my word.”

  “At least one of you isn’t ignoring my question,” Mom says, patting my hip.

  I roll my eyes. “We’re outta here.” Before Nathan fills her in on absolutely everything.

  “Aren’t you going to take a shower and change your clothes?” she asks, as I’m pulling Nathan with me to the door.

  “No. I have clothes at Nathan’s house.” I stumble, tripping over my words. “Dammit,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Excuse me, Tracey Warren!”

  Quickening my steps, I hurry us to the foyer, ready to fulfill my escape. We’re not going to get into another conversation. “I’ll explain later. See you in a bit. Thank you. Love you,” I say, closing the front door behind me. “Darn,” I whisper, lightly slapping the door. I left the keys in the house, along with everything else.

  “Looks like you have to go back in,” Nathan jests. “Can’t explain how we got to my house on foot.”

  I throw my head back, scowling at the perfect blue sky with not a cloud in sight. “Argh. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “And where am I going looking like this.” He looks down and wiggles his toes. “Considering, I don’t have any shoes on. Would you mind getting those too? For you and me,” he adds, pointing to my bare feet.

  I press my toes to the ground, feeling the cool concrete against them. My escape plan is a bust, and now I must shamefully face my mother. We walk back into the house.

  “Forgetting something?” Mom says from the kitchen. “Make sure you stop by here before you go get your shoes.”

  Darn! I walk to Mom in the kitchen washing the dishes. “Yes,” I sing innocently.

  “Why do you have clothes at Nathan’s house?”

  “In case I need to change while I’m there.” I shrug. “We’ve gone over me staying the night a few times. He got me some clothes to hang there just in case.”

  “There are a lot of clothes there?”

  “Not a lot,” I lie, immediately regretting it. I run upstairs to my room and grab our shoes, my phone, and the keys. Coming back down, I hear Mom and Nathan chatting it up in the foyer. Mom’s bugging him about why I have clothes at his house, and what drove him to crowd his closet with those for me.

  And he’s gung-ho to tell her, “Tracey’s clothes were a surprise for her. She had little things, but I wanted to give her a variety.”

  “She does have a lot of clothes over there,” she says conclusively.

  “She does,” Nathan reveals, oblivious to the white lie I told not five minutes ago.

  “And she—”

  “Okay, I have everything.” I purposely interrupt them, handing Nathan his shoes. Bending over to put mine on, I feel Mom staring a blazing hole through my head. “Yes, Mom?”

  “Tracey, were you serious about moving in with him?”

  Where is she getting all these questions this early in the morning? Before I answer her, I finish tying both shoes. “Yes, Mom. But it won’t be today or tomorrow,” I say, straightening and meeting her eyes. Giving her a confident look, I make it so my words and my feelings no longer have to be questioned. “I’m certain about this. About him.”

  She flicks her inquisitive gaze over to Nathan. “And you?”

  “My family has accepted her and offered her the invitation. I move on Tracey’s accord. When she is ready, I’m ready.”

  Mom looks off to her left, then right, and nods, saying, “Okay,” calm but apprehensively. “I guess I’ll see you two later. Reflect more on this conversation that we have had.” Her makeup-free face is blank, but her analyzing eyes say it all, revealing her mixed feelings about all this. “Tracey, your father is going to request some of your time, so I would set some aside for him if I were you.”

  “Okay, Mother.”

  “How did you two get here last night, and what time did you come in?”

  Crap! I quickly spew the first thing that comes to mind. “We were dropped off around one something. We were safe. Promise.” I hug her, and we leave for my car, escaping ‘Mother of twenty-one questions.’

  “That was interesting,” Nathan jests, once we’ve made it out of my neighborhood.

  “I can only imagine how tonight’s going to go.” I’m not looking forward to it at all. And with how straightforward Dad is, there’s no telling how my night’s going to end. Mom’s going to tell him about how it started, and everything we talked about this morning. And our one-on-one has ‘bad blood’ written all over it. Dad, for some reason, just doesn’t like me being with Nathan. He was understanding at first, after we’d talked, but then maybe a month after school restarted something changed.

  “Everything’ll be fine, Sparks. Let’s just get to the house to make sure everyone’s alive and that it’s not in shambles.”

  A nervous panic rises the hairs on the back of my neck. “What?” I blurt.

  “That’s the shit that goes through my mind, believe it or not.”

  Pressing down harder on the gas, I mutter, “I believe it.”

  Thank goodness the outside of the house appears fine. This doesn’t count for the people on the inside, though. I turn the knob and push in the door, and a mob of Newcombs thrash into us like an angry wave, raining with questions about our last night’s disappearance.

  “We went to Tracey’s house. We couldn’t sleep last night,” Nathan says.

  Olar steps to the front of the crowd. “We have something we need to attend to out back.”

  Nathan nods. “Yeah, I know. Where is everyone?”

  Olar gestures over his shoulder. “Roseland and Scott are waiting for us by the let out. You ready?”

  “Yeah.” They head down the hall, and I swiftly follow. Nathan halts and I nearly stumble over him from snagging a glance at my phone to view a text from Mom that reads, We have more to discuss, honey.

  “You may want to sit this one out, Sparks.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s going to get . . .” He lifts his gaze to the ceiling. “Uh. Messy.”

  “Real messy,” Olar adds with a smile wider than his shoulders.

  I insist, “I’m coming.”

  “Hey. I’m coming too.” Glen comes around the corner, bouncing as she trots to us.

  “You are definitely not coming,” Nathan objects, adding an emphasis on his not with the sweep of his hand.

  “Why can she come and I can’t?” she asks, pointing.

  “Because Tracey knows not to sound off. You’ll be screaming and mumbling, causing a distraction,” Nathan retorts, trying to stick a fork in it.

  Glen throws her hands on her hips and fires back, “I will not.” She never gives in.

  Throwing his hands up, Nathan grumbles, “Okay, we’ll see what Scott says.” He redirects his att
ention to me. “You sure you want to sit through this?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  “Fine.”

  We meet Roseland and Scott outside of the let out.

  Scott turns to greet us and anger washes over his face when he sees Glen here too. “No! No! Not happening! Go back in the house now!”

  Glen rushes to him. “No, Scott. I want to come too. Nathan’s letting Tracey come.”

  “No, Glen. This is not for you.” He thrust a point toward the house. “Go. Two of the three parasites in there are attracted to you. And with the way you scream and the shit we’re going to be doing to them. No! Absolutely not.”

  She whines, “Scott, that’s not fair. If Tracey gets to come, so should I.”

  I hate it when she does this. It would be okay if when she used me to get her way, it worked. But no, I’ll get the pouty eyes from Scott, and the ‘just stay here’ eyes from Nathan and wind up sitting somewhere missing all the action. Glen can’t take the death, the beatings, or see them shift into anything non-human. So they don’t freak her out, they’d prefer she’s not around to judge them or look down on them for being different. It’s why Scott hesitates being entirely truthful; he’s not one hundred percent chosen by his mate, even after her accepting him. They’re complicated.

  Scott’s gaze slices over Nathan and finds me avoiding him. Grumbling, he shifts his weight but restrains from crossing the grass to Glen. “What you saw yesterday is going to be ten times worse in there,” he peacefully explains, somehow serenading her with his information.

  “It’ll be way worse,” Olar declares, delight dancing in his eager blue eyes. “Even more of a reason for us to get in there.”

  A shiver causes her shoulders to shake as she squeezes her eyes shut. After swallowing hard, she croaks, “I can take it.”

  “You won’t be able to speak, gasp, move, nothing,” Scott continues. “You won’t be able to call or distract me. You’ll have none of my attention, Glen. I won’t allow you to demand it from me.”

  Demand it? We can do that? How’s she able to do that? And how is Glen as new to this as me, but far more advanced in most of the knowledge than I am? I know Scott doesn’t share that much with her or go into too much detail about Sephlems or Burdeneds or the other creatures that lurk in the dark. So, how—how—does she know this stuff?

  “Cool, I won’t do any of that stuff,” Glen promises, bouncing on her toes.

  “Come on, Scott. We’re wasting time,” Olar interrupts. “We have other things to do today.”

  So true. Like making the house look like someone hasn’t wrecked every room.

  “He’s right, Scott. Let’s go.” Glen tries to convince him with a pat on his back.

  Scott seems stuck, playing with the thought for a moment. Reluctantly, he agrees with a nod. “If you do anything, you’re blacking out,” he threatens.

  “Okay,” she exclaims perkily and plants a kiss to his cheek. He accepts her kiss, but the discontent settling on his paling face shows how much he disagrees with himself. But arguing with Glen will only waste more time, and he knows it. He turns away from her and I catch his neck harden then relax as its Burdened complexion along his nape comes and goes.

  We head for the door, but before they can open it, I find it necessary to say, “Glen, he’s serious. You can’t speak or move when we go in here. This will not be anything like yesterday. These guys, they want you, and they will most likely try to go through Scott to get you.”

  “Gah, okay, Cey,” Glen crabs. “I got it,” she adds, dismissively waving her hand in my face.

  upward fall

  The air in the let out is muggy and hot. Drawing my shirt over my nose, I mollify the piercing reek of soured flesh that may be due to days of odor sat on Johann’s body, maybe urine, and something that gives off an ammonia-like scent.

  Glen takes in the scene, slack-jawed. The sight is worth the repulsed expression.

  Hanging from the pipes by no rope or chains, just their hands clamped around the rustic metal, each intruder awaits their fate. Top, the biggest in the room, hangs from the pipe by one arm and his tiptoes grazing the blood and dirt stained tile.

  Nathan leaves my side. He’s in a zone, one where his switch is just centered, not up or down, just facing straight out, waiting for the earth to shake and determine which effect he’ll have on it. Maybe it’ll be one that’s stable, human-like, or one of ire where there’s no rest for the wicked.

  Roseland takes my side, and I keep Glen on my right, nearer the door. I have my exit plan in place in case shit hits the fan. She nods at Scott before he leaves her to cross the disgusting floor to the three amigos. Glen steps closer to me.

  Flipping a coin once and then again, Olar snatches my attention. The dim light from the two hanging, rectangular ceiling lights gleam off the turning half-dollar, flickering sparkles around the room. Olar leans against the wall in the shadows, making sure we know he’s there, but he can’t easily be seen.

  Distracted by Nathan’s defensive shield hardening his skin tightening mine, I turn my attention to him. It continues to crawl over me, and I reflexively roll my shoulders, not yet used to being consumed by the effects of someone else’s body. Throwing out a foot and stepping forward, Nathan ominously paces back and forth in front of Jaworski, Top, and Johann. He chuckles to himself. Whatever the hell could be so amusing in this situation, I don’t know. But the reminder that I’m dating a psychotic beast tainted by the blood of a demon, who happens to only look the part of a human, is never too far off to my conclusion to his behavior.

  “Thanks for joining our little soiree,” he says. “I bet Johann was getting lonely.”

  Johann has been in here for days. By the looks of it, he may not have been as alone as Nathan lets off. It would be no surprise to find out Olar made it in here, which is how Johann’s powder blue button down is now stained with basketball-sized gray and black blotches. Weakened by, maybe, lack of food or Olar’s deranged form of torture, Johann sluggishly hangs from the pipe by his fingers. When I stepped into the room, his gaze instantly harassed me. I meet his eyes, seeing the desire I expected to dissipate but find revulsion charging from my stomach up to my throat, seeing it’s grown stronger.

  Jaworski drops from the bar, staring in our direction, mirroring Johann’s looks but for Glen. Scott approaches him. Every eye in the room follows him. Except for Top—no one would be able to tell what direction he’s looking. His left eye is swollen shut, and the right is still hanging on by nerves and veins, rests against his cheek. I wonder what he is. Unable to heal himself, he can’t be Sephlem. . .

  Jaworski tilts his head, and he keeps his gaze on Glen. The tails of his braids drape his shoulders as he confidently stands, spine straight. “Scott, I understand she’s your mate.” He nods to Glen.

  Scott swells his chest and crosses his arms. “You understand correctly.”

  “My attraction to her is unintentional. I came following orders,” he simply informs, as if that should excuse his coming to kidnap me! “I also didn’t know the person I was coming for was Nate’s.”

  “Well.” Scott shrugs, tipping down the corners of his mouth. “She is.”

  Jaworski puckers his lips then clicks his tongue. It echoes off the walls until it fades. “I won’t go easy.” His voice darkens into an angered calm, like the rage of an oncoming storm, blown in by a refreshing breeze, yet ready to pour down its raft at any moment. He rolls his shoulder and takes on his demon. He concludes, “I would appreciate it if you didn’t play with me.” The flash of crimson starts in his face and vastly waves over his exposed skin. Night blue eyes glisten when he blinks, and the yellow outlining them stings.

  Glen jumps. Meeting her eyes, I confirm her mouth’s closed. She nods, confirming she’s under control.

  “Good.” Scott morphs, letting his Burdened consume him as well.

  I search the room for Nathan, hoping he’s keeping a close eye on Scott. Finding him leaning against a far wall with a
leg up and his arms crossed, he looks over everyone with his expression relaxed instead of focused. His mind seems to be somewhere else. I worry only because Nathan’s always focused.

  Scott’s shoved, and Glen makes a move for him. I hold her back and tap for Roseland to stand at her other side for help.

  Jaworski stands taller than Scott and is bigger than him in frame. “I’m not stupid,” he growls. “Don’t play me like you’re doing me a favor. Even when I do bring you to your last, I’m sure Nate and Olar will step up to avenge you.”

  Scott walks up on Jaworski, hands balling into tight fists. “You come to our home, seeking out our family, and you don’t think you deserve to be slain?” Scott questions in disdain.

  “I followed orders!” Jaworski states aggressively. “I didn’t know to whom those requests pertained. Only her.” He angrily thrusts a pointed finger at me.

  I try to avoid it as if danger flew off the tip of his nail and was coming for me.

  “You say follow orders like he’s your master. Like your life lies in his hands,” Nathan snorts, amused. “Humph,” he laughs once. “If you don’t deliver her, what’ll happen to you?”

  Jaworski’s short, answering, “Death.”

  “Death by whom?”

  “I’ve explained that I can’t tell you that.”

  “Who do you think?” Top asks. His voice is deep with so much bass it takes effort to understand his words. “You all are sitting around here intending to torture us as if you do not already know what’s going on. He sent his best men. It may have been in vain, as it is now we who are captured, but you know who sent us.” He grumbles, shaking his head.

  “You’re right, Top.” Nathan pulls himself from the wall. “I do know who sent you. I wanted confirmation and to understand why you are looking upon this man as a god, following orders; obliging him under threats of pain and death.” He rubs his hand over his beard, chuckling devilishly from his throat. Olar’s husky laugh joins him as they enjoy a private joke. Total maniacs. “But, Top,” Nathan continues, “since you are so willing to offer information.” Top drops from the pipe, landing on his bare feet with a heavy thud. “I’m going to let you do us the honor of killing the other failure. Like yourself,” he adds.