Forbidden, Tempted Series (Book 1)

by Selene Charles

  Pinching his fingers together, he nodded. “Little bit.”

  When she walked inside the auditorium, a sense of pride overtook her. The place looked freaking good, even if she said so herself. She’d blown up over a hundred of the gold-dusted balloons. Right at ten, while everyone danced and swayed to the final slow song of the night, the balloon net would drop and gold dust would scatter everywhere.

  Amazing how the sterile gymnasium could look so warm with just a few plants and silk splashes of color affixed to the walls. Thousands of silver stars dangled from the rafters.

  “Snaaa...zzy.” Abel whistled. “You did all this?” His eyes beamed down at her.

  “Well, no. But I did blow up so many balloons I almost fainted. World got all buzzy and funny for a second.”

  He laughed, then coughed, and so did she.

  Like she’d suddenly inhaled a bucket of powder. Wheezing, she waved her hand, trying to clear the air. Abel’s eyes teared up.

  “The heck is that?”

  Shaking her head, she looked for the source. It’d had felt like swallowing a massive amount of gnats. But there was nothing in the air. Then she smelled the sour milk.

  “Why are you here?” Tamara’s terse tone broke Flint’s happy vibe.

  “Because it’s a free world,” Abel snapped, shoving Flint behind his back and becoming a human shield. “Who are you?”

  Whoa!

  Had Abel just done that? Gone all postal? She was used to that with Cain, but not Abel. His neck was so rigid the muscles were raised, and there was definitely a vein throbbing at the base of it.

  Patting his back, Flint stood up on tiptoe. “Abel, it’s fine. Come on.”

  He didn’t turn.

  Tugging on his hand, she said with more force, “Abel, come on.”

  Tamara didn’t seem fazed. She just stared at Abel with that same eerie, buglike way of hers. Thank God she wasn’t blinking the clear membrane.

  Then he shook his head, stumbling back, and like air escaping a balloon, he seemed to physically deflate in front of her.

  Grabbing his head, he stumbled into her.

  “Hey.” Grunting, she shoved against his back, trying to use her momentum to keep him on his feet.

  Shaking his head, he looked at her with eyes grown wide with a flicker of panic. “I’m... I’m sorry... Don’t know what came over me.”

  But she knew. She knew and she couldn’t tell him.

  This sucked so bad. Knowing what he was becoming, knowing she couldn’t tell him a thing. Hugging his waist, she wrinkled her nose. “No bigs. But maybe...”

  “No.” He cut his hand through the air. “Don’t even say it. I’m not going home.”

  “Abel.” She dragged out his name with a sort of impatient huff. “You haven’t exactly been feeling so hot these last few days. Maybe this was too soon.”

  His lips quirked. “Flintlock, I just got a little angry at that...” Glancing up, he scanned the room for Tamara, but she’d already walked off. “...girl.”

  He really didn’t seem to want to go and honestly, he looked fine. If he was going through the change, she could handle him. Rhiannon had sworn that Layla managed to work all the crap out of his system. Whatever was happening now was purely berserker stuff, and she could handle that.

  She handled Cain.

  But no matter what, she’d keep an eye on him. At the slightest hint of crazy, they’d leave.

  “I’m fine. Really.” That gorgeous dimple in deep profile decided her.

  “Fine. But one more outburst from you, young man.” She wagged her finger.

  He caught it in the air and kissed the tip.

  A light kiss. It meant nothing.

  But she stilled like a cornered rabbit, pulse beating rapid through her fingertip. “Abel, behave.”

  His smile was wicked, a curving of lips and exposing of teeth. It made her shiver.

  Brow furrowing, she opened her mouth.

  “Flint.”

  It was Wickham and he was marching toward them with purpose.

  “Did you find Tamara?”

  He was sweating, running a finger along his collar.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Fine.” His answer was curt, his mood intense. “Look, I don’t see her around. Place looks good, but run back to the cafeteria and make sure the final shipment of punch arrived on time, will you?”

  The man was a wreck. If just making sure the punch arrived on time turned him into this, she’d hate to see him in a really stressful situation.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She didn’t see Tamara back in the kitchen. Thankfully Abel had joined her, and along with another boy from her gym class (she thought his name might be Marcos), they were able to stock and count the last of the shipment.

  Eyeing the ginormous stack dubiously, she muttered, “Who needs this much punch? There’s like a hundred cases of the stuff. They can’t possibly expect a couple of kids to drink so much.”

  Marcos nodded, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his black suit jacket. “I know, and making us stack it right before the dance, man. Wish I had known there was going to be so much manual labor. I would have waited to change until after.”

  Holding out his arms for inspection, his face glowered and tiny lines scrawled across his brows. “Man, Amy’s not gonna want to dance with me if I’m all sweaty.”

  Almost like they’d spoken it into existence, a booming, hollow noise thumped through the walls. The dance was starting.

  Grabbing her hand, Abel waved at Marcos. “Come on, I want to show off my date.”

  Again, the feeling of oddness settled over her, dampening her mood. Abel wasn’t doing anything particularly different tonight, but there was a sort of manic desperation about him.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Stopping so quickly she knocked into his chest, Abel clenched his jaw. “I’m not a piece of glass. Stop expecting me to shatter, Flint. I want to dance and forget. Can we do that, please?”

  His face was rolling, the muscles moving beneath his skin, flexing and flaring, his breathing coming harder and harder through his nose.

  Somehow she managed to squeak out, “Okay. Great.”

  But he was sick. This wasn’t like Abel to act this way. Did the change really make them so different? Had Cain been more like this before?

  Forcing a hard smile to her face, she made herself as loose as possible and slipped her arm through his, acting as if he hadn’t just looked at her like he wanted to rip her head off her neck, like his body hadn’t trembled and started to thicken.

  She needed to find Cain.

  Relaxing again, he smiled down at her and patted her cold hand. “See. No bigs, right? Let’s go dance.”

  This time when they walked into the gym it was like they’d stepped into a different world. The lights were dimmed, the strobe lights flashing. The DJ’s booth, backlit with black light, swirled with a chaotic miasma of colors. Music thumped and blared through the large speakers.

  Kids were filling the large room. Dresses shimmered in every color of the rainbow, looking like flowers in the sun.

  The song was fast and pumping.

  Guys were jumping up and down, forming a sort of mosh pit in the corner. Regardless of the rhythm, some couples were swaying, looking at each with a promise in their eyes.

  Abel tugged on her hand.

  She could do this, she could.

  His hands slid down her waist.

  Laughing nervously, she swatted his arm. “This is a fast song.”

  “I know.” He waggled his brows. “Stop thinking, just dance.”

  Still not seeing the girls or Cain, she knew she was in this alone for the time being. She didn’t want to make him angry again. Cain said so long as they weren’t antagonized, they’d be normal. So if she did what Abel wanted, she’d be fine and so would everyone else.

  Feeling brave, she started to move. Slowly at first, trying to find the backbeat in the song. Her mother
used to love dancing.

  She’d crank up the music player in the living room, then take Flint’s hand, and they’d dance until they were breathless.

  The music moved through her, in her, around her. It took her body and made her its slave. Before she knew it, she was completely caught up, spinning and laughing in Abel’s arms.

  He was a good dancer, not clumsy or awkward the way she’d expected him to be. And in his arms, he was himself again. The light shining in his brown eyes, it was the Abel she knew and loved.

  They swayed in unison, moving almost as one. She, the sun. He, the planet. Gravity at work. Lost in the liquid sound, they danced one song after another, getting hot and sweaty, but not caring.

  “You move like fire.” Cain’s hot voice whispered in her ear, the long length of him pressing tight and warm to her back.

  Panting, she turned, placing her palms on his chest. The smell of his black leather motorcycle jacket whispered under her nose.

  “Cain,” she breathed as excitement flushed her cheeks.

  He looked good with his jacket and jeans and slightly messy hair. She ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re here.”

  Giving her a wolfish grin, he nodded. Warm hands clamped onto her back, sliding slowly down her spine. “You look amazing.”

  But she didn’t get a chance to bask in the warmth. Rough hands yanked her out of Cain’s arms.

  Abel glared at Cain, his fingers digging sharply into Flint’s arm. “You don’t get to touch.”

  “Whoa!” Flint shook her head, trying to jerk her arm away. But he was too strong. “Abel, what’s wrong with you?”

  Cain didn’t touch her, but his knuckles were bone white as he unlatched Abel’s hand from her. A rush of blood sizzled through her arm—it would definitely bruise.

  Then Abel did the most amazing thing.

  He punched Cain.

  “Screw you, man! She’s my date. Mine.” His eyes were frantic, sweat dotted his upper lip, and he moved as if ready to snatch her back to his side.

  Cain didn’t even rub at the red bloom on his cheek, acting as if the punch hadn’t fazed him. But she’d heard the sick thump of flesh striking flesh. Abel had swung hard.

  Gently, Cain set her behind his back. “Touch her again and I’ll rip your hands off.”

  Trembling, she rubbed her hands up and down his back. Suddenly Rhi and Ja were there. So were the twins. The girls surrounded Abel; the guys stood next to Cain.

  Aware that they were being stared at, Flint tugged on Cain’s jacket. It was a miracle they hadn’t been caught fighting. In fact, looking around, there weren’t any teachers anywhere.

  A growl emanated from deep in Abel’s chest, rumbling and vibrating like a beast. His eyes weren’t red, but he was trembling, holding his hands rigid by his side and balled into fists. There was so much sweat on him now that he looked like he’d just stepped out of a shower.

  “Abel,” Cain said calmly, but with the threat of violence lingering like an echo behind the name.

  They were having the stare-down to beat all stare-downs. Like two alpha dogs fighting over a kill.

  Abel’s eye twitched, then he hissed and grabbed his skull.

  “Abe?” Ja’s soft voice grew pregnant with fear.

  Turning on his heel, Abel ran in the direction of the bathrooms.

  Janet flew after him, her orange dress licking the ground behind her like rolling flame.

  “Make sure he’s okay.” Cain glanced at the twins and Rhiannon. “Make sure she’s okay.”

  All three nodded and took off after him.

  They were making a huge scene, how was it that no one seemed to care? Where were the teachers?

  Cain wrapped his arms around Flint. “You okay?”

  He peered deep into her, like he was looking not at her face, but her soul. She wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Something’s wrong with him tonight. He was fine when he came to get me, but the second we got here, I don’t know what happened.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Grabbing her hand, he peered at the faint purple mark that’d started to spread on her arm where Abel had grabbed her.

  His thumb was warm and gentle as he traced the bruise’s shape. Warm lips pressed tight to her skin and the feel of it shot heat through her pores. Shivering, she inhaled his spicy scent.

  “Be...because.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “He wouldn’t let me out of his sight. Is it the, you know what?” She looked around.

  For the most part everyone ignored them, but a few still lingered and looked.

  “No. When it happens we sleep. A lot. And eat. We don’t act like that.”

  “What’s wrong with him, Cain?”

  Wrapping her in his arms, he dropped his chin on her forehead. Closing her eyes, she relaxed into the steely warmth of his chest, moving against him subconsciously as she swayed back and forth.

  “Could just be residual stuff from the other day. I’m sorry, princess, I thought you’d be safe. The guys and I were scouting the perimeter, setting some traps just in case one of them showed.”

  “Tamara’s here.”

  His eyes narrowed as he peered at her. “Where?”

  “I don’t know.” She dug her fingers into his jacket, needing his warmth right now. “But that was the weird part, she was working the setup.”

  Pushing her away, Cain’s entire demeanor suddenly changed. “Flint, listen to me—”

  “Something’s wrong with him, Cain.” Janet was back and yanking on Cain, twisting him around to face her. Her eyes were large and gathering with tears. She was twisting a long length of dress between her hands.

  “What is it?” He was holding on to Flint as if afraid to let go.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, but the guys told me to come get you.”

  Clenching his jaw, he gave her a worried look. “I don’t like this. Janet, take Flint and get out of here.”

  Swallowing hard, she nodded and was now rubbing her hand obsessively across her golden cuff.

  “Cain? Wait.” Flint held on to his hand; she didn’t want to let it go. A sick feeling worked its way through her body.

  Twisting his lips, he leaned in and gave her a rough kiss on the crown of her head. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

  Then he was gone.

  “Let’s go.” Janet grabbed her hand. “Something’s wrong here. Something—”

  Boom!

  Boom!

  Boom!

  A series of what sounded like explosions rocked the gym, shaking the ground and causing Flint to drop to her knees. Everybody screamed and then one cry cut above the rest.

  “Bomb!”

  That was it. Everyone scattered like ants running out of a mound that’d been lit on fire. Still on the ground, she was getting kicked and knocked around as terrified people ran for the doors. Every time she tried to get to her knees to stand, someone else would knock her down.

  In all the chaos, she lost sight of Janet.

  “Janet!” Flint choked out, chest heaving with fire as yet another foot landed in her gut.

  But it was too loud and the surge was too thick.

  Someone stepped on her hand and she howled, dropping to her elbow as she hugged it tight to her body, covering her head as best she could.

  Then a pair of arms clamped onto her waist and for a split second she smiled. Until she smelled the rancid stench of soured milk.

  Screaming, she twisted around.

  Tamara was tiny, but her strength was immense. “You’re coming with me. Scream bomb over and over, get them out of here,” she said, gritting the words into Flint’s ears.

  “Scream!” Tamara shook her.

  Flint screamed. “Oh my God! Bomb! Get out, out!!”

  People ran even faster, shoving others out of the way as they clawed to the top of the human pile to get to the doors.

  Where was Cain? Janet? Abel?

  Tamara dragged her. Flint dug in her heels, trying to stay pu
t, to get out of her grasp. How many times had she told Cain she could handle herself, could run away? What a lie. Helpless and sick, she only slowed the process down.

  “Cain! Where are you? I’m here!”

  “He can’t hear you; he won’t save you.” Tamara’s tone was curt, sharp, and full of hatred.

  “What’d you do to him?” She twisted, working around the fistful of dress Tamara still held.

  Her pixie face was smooth, but her clear membranes were blinking like mad. A sure sign that she was anxious.

  A girl yelled and ran into them, jarring Flint’s spine and making her jaw clamp down on her tongue. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  “He’s where he needs to be. And you’re coming with me.”

  Struggling, she kicked and screamed, raking her nails down Tamara’s arms. But the girl wouldn’t budge.

  “Stop fighting.” Tamara shoved her forward so hard it snapped Flint’s head forward. The velocity of it was almost enough to give her whiplash. Pain sizzled down her back and radiated through her shoulders.

  Two more hive came out of the crush, heading toward Tamara, and with them was Mr. Wickham. His skin looked pale; a purple bruise bloomed at his left temple.

  “Just remember this, Flint,” Tamara whispered quickly, “I did what was right. Listen and learn, then tell them. Save...”

  Flint didn’t even give herself a second to reason what that meant. The minute Wickham was within earshot, she screamed.

  “Mr. Wickham—” It was on the tip of her tongue to plead with him to find Cain, to save himself, but his next words stopped her cold.

  “Give us the girl, Tamara. You’ve got orders from the queen—you’re not supposed to be here.”

  It was like taking a punch to the gut. All the air in her body squeezed out of her pores, leaving her deflated and unable to believe what she’d just heard.

  Tamara’s breathing was hard and choppy. She held Flint in front of her like a shield. “I’ve done as the queen asked.”

  They were headed toward a locker room now. Flint recognized it—it was the boy’s locker room.

  She could hardly focus. A loud annoying buzz grew in her head, and trying to make out what anyone was saying was like trying to listen to conversation underwater.

  “What are you doing with the girl?” the blond drone next to Wickham asked. His blue eyes were a shocking, vivid blue behind the membranes.