Darkness Bound: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (The Witch's Rebels Book 2)

by Sarah Piper

  “Are those brownies?” I asked.

  “Excellent timing, querida,” he said with a wink. He set the pan on a cooling rack on the center island, then removed his oven mitts. “This is an Emilio Alvarez exclusive recipe, and since you and I are the only ones here, you get first dibs.”

  “Where’s Darius?”

  “He had a meeting in Seattle—he won’t be back until tomorrow night. He said to tell you he’d try to call you later—he didn’t want to disturb you in the shower.”

  The idea of Darius disturbing me in the shower sent a little thrill down my spine, and I was bummed that he hadn’t tried.

  Still, it didn’t get much better than homemade brownies, and I took a deep chocolatey whiff. “You made these from scratch?”

  “How else do you make sweet-and-spicy triple-chocolate brownies?” Emilio’s face morphed into a mask of abject horror. “From a box?”

  I nearly swooned.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… Emilio Alvarez?” I batted my eyelashes. “Will you marry me?”

  His smile looked as sweet as his creation smelled. “Not tonight, querida. But to ease the sting of my brutal rejection, I’ll share these with you. Sound good?”

  “Are you kidding me? That’s the best offer I’ve gotten all day.”

  “They need to cool a bit, and I need to return a call to the police chief.” He pulled the phone from his pocket. “Let’s say we reconvene on the deck with a couple of spoons, some milk, and this whole pan in fifteen minutes.”

  “You got it, detective.”

  While Emilio went to make his call, I found a tray and loaded it up with spoons, napkins, and two big, frothy glasses of ice-cold milk, already feeling a hundred times better than I had an hour ago.

  The deck was a huge wooden expanse with an unobstructed view of the moonlit sky but no furniture, so I set the tray on the railing and headed back inside for a blanket to sit on. I grabbed the butter-yellow one from the back of the couch, sending a lone tarot card fluttering down onto the floor.

  It must’ve gotten lost in the shuffle last night.

  I picked it up and turned it over, a smile instantly touching my lips.

  It was the Page of Cups—a beautiful young girl with sleek ebony skin and a fish-shaped headdress, her cape and tunic the color of the sea.

  She was my Sophie card, just stopping by to say hello.

  “I miss you, too, my friend.” Carefully, I tucked her into the shirt pocket of my cloud pajamas, inviting her along on my brownie date, knowing she’d definitely approve.

  It wasn’t long before Emilio joined me on the blanket outside, bringing his pan of chocolate heaven. After clinking our spoons together in cheers, we promptly dug in, steam still rising from the gooey center. He’d cooked them perfectly—crispy on the edges, soft and warm inside, the decadent chocolate taste followed by a just-spicy-enough kick of chili pepper.

  We’d demolished half the batch when he finally stopped to speak.

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  “Aside from the stomach ache I’m working on? Yes.”

  He took another spoonful, licking it clean. “Chocolate fixes everything, doesn’t it?”

  I set my spoon in the pan and leaned back on the blanket, staring up at the moon. It was still mostly full, and the bright light blotted out most of the stars. “Almost everything.”

  “Gray…” He seemed to be searching for his words, but I already knew what he was going to say. Why else would he whip up a batch of scratch brownies and hang out with me on the deck?

  “It’s not your fault, Emilio,” I said, letting him off the hook. “You weren’t even here.”

  “Maybe I should’ve been.”

  “Asher and I shouldn’t need a babysitter.”

  “No. A mediator, maybe.” Emilio stretched out on his side and propped up his head, facing me. “He was wrong to push you so hard. To say those awful things. I’m sorry you had to deal with that, querida.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for anyone,” I said. “Especially Asher. That demon can handle his own messes.”

  “Not you,” Emilio said softly.

  “He hates me,” I said, the realization stinging a hell of a lot more than I wanted to admit. “Case closed.”

  “Asher doesn’t hate you. He hates himself. That’s the whole problem.”

  “Come on, Emilio. He’s the most egotistical asshole I’ve ever met. Tell me that’s not true.”

  “Being full of yourself and hating yourself aren’t mutually exclusive. In fact, they often go hand-in-hand.”

  I turned away from his soft brown eyes and went back to staring at the moon. I didn’t want to feel bad for Asher—not right now. Not after everything he’d said to me.

  He’s gonna carve you up. He’s gonna tear you apart, limb from limb, until all that’s left of you are your shiny blond curls…

  “I’m not trying to make excuses for him,” Emilio continued, “but I am trying to understand where he’s coming from. I think you are, too.”

  “I’ve been trying all along,” I said. “But Asher doesn’t want anyone to get too close. He’d rather stew in his anger and hate the world than admit he has an actual heart in there. And you know what? Let him. I’m done.”

  “I don’t blame you for feeling that way.” Emilio unleashed a deep sigh. “This is Asher’s pattern. He starts to care for someone, and the moment they start to reciprocate, he pushes them away. It’s his own form of self-punishment.”

  “Why is he punishing himself?”

  “Why do any of us? Maybe he feels like he has to atone.”

  Atone.

  I let the word hang in the air as an image floated through my memory—the dark-haired woman I’d seen when I’d taken Asher’s soul. The immeasurable pain I’d felt as I’d watched her die through Asher’s eyes.

  I wondered if Emilio knew about that—if Asher had ever talked about her. I wanted to ask him, but no matter what Asher had said to me tonight, deep down I still believed he was my friend. At the very least, he deserved my respect. It didn’t feel right to bring up the story of the woman with anyone but Asher. In fact, it didn’t feel right to bring her up at all.

  “I’m not saying I want him to suffer, Emilio,” I said, softer this time. “But I didn’t sign up to be his emotional punching bag.”

  “I know. I suspect Asher knows that, too. And on the off chance he forgot, I’m sure Ronan is reminding him of that right now.”

  I bit back a smile. Not that I wanted anyone to fight my battles, especially with the infuriating incubus. But when it came to me, Ronan’s overprotective nature ran deep. I could only imagine the earful Asher was getting right now.

  I almost—almost—felt bad for him.

  “Emilio?”

  “¿Sí, querida?”

  “Thanks for the brownies. And, you know—the rest.”

  “You’re welcome for the brownies. And, you know—the rest.” Emilio reached across the blanket and squeezed my hand, his gentle laughter fading into a sigh. “Actually… There’s something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, Gray.”

  The tenderness in his voice made my heart go soft, and the Tarot card inside my pocket suddenly felt warm and heavy.

  “Sophie,” I breathed, and he tightened his grip on my hand.

  An image of her danced across my vision, and I allowed myself to get swept up in the random memory. They often came like this now, unbidden but not unwelcome, and each one felt like a treasure washed up on the shores of my heart, just for me.

  I knew what Emilio was going to ask me about, but I wasn’t ready. Not yet. I just needed this one last chance to remember her as she was—vivacious and alive and crazy and incredible and so full of life, she almost seemed immortal.

  “Wait,” I whispered, closing my eyes as I tumbled headlong into the memory…

  “Um, Sophie? Do I even want to know what’s happening in here?”

  I’d just gotten home from the grocery
store, and I found her in the living room with her hands planted on the floor, her ass bobbing up and down to some kind of nightmare bubblegum pop music blasting from her laptop.

  “I’m teaching myself how to twerk.”

  “You’re a few years late for that craze.”

  Sophie stood up and shook her head, her red ponytail swinging in time with the music. “Twerking is timeless. Put that stuff down and get over here.”

  “I’m… not really in a twerking kind of mood right now.”

  “That’s the beauty of it, Gray. Twerking automatically puts you in a twerking kind of mood. It’s very meta.” She waved me over and cranked up the music, and I joined her on the makeshift dance floor, caught up as always in the tide of her crazy.

  “Like this?” I asked, swerving my hips. I couldn’t help the smile that broke across my face.

  “That’s it! Get it, girl!” She clapped along with the beat, and it wasn’t long before I was following her lead, the two of us working it for all we were worth, laughing our asses off the entire time.

  It wasn’t long before we brought alcohol into the mix, rearranged the living room furniture to make a temporary dancehall, made a playlist we dubbed “S&G’s Twerkalicious Beats,” and recorded our own dance video.

  “And this,” I said to her just before we finally passed out, “better not ever see the light of day.”

  Sophie winked. “No worries, Gray. Your twerkaliciousness will remain forever our dirty little secret.”

  I opened my eyes and sucked in a shuddering breath, pressing a hand to my pocket where the Page of Cups still sat.

  “I’m okay,” I whispered, more to myself than to Emilio.

  He touched my hand again, gently stroking my skin. “We’re finished with the forensic exams on Sophie’s body. Do you know what sort of arrangements she’d want?”

  I closed my eyes again, reaching out for her with my mind, wishing she could tell me what she wanted. Wishing she was still here so that we wouldn’t have to make this decision at all.

  “She didn’t have any family,” I said. “Just me.”

  “There’s no ‘just’ about it, Gray. Sophie was very lucky to have you.”

  I didn’t really know what to say to that. I used to think Sophie and I were both lucky that our paths had crossed, that we’d become such inseparable friends. But if Sophie had never met me, she might still be alive. Twerking in someone else’s living room, my life all the poorer for never having known her light, but she’d still be here.

  Yanking myself back from the precipice of those pointless thoughts, I said, “I’m not sure what the rules are when someone isn’t a relative.”

  “Don’t worry about the rules,” Emilio said. “I’ll take care of that.”

  Despite the heaviness of the moment, I laughed. “I never thought I’d hear you say that, Detective Alvarez.”

  “Don’t tell anyone. Especially not Ronan. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  My smile faded. “Sophie never talked about her wishes. I mean, there are always risks living in the Bay, working late nights in the warehouse district. But we’d always taken care of ourselves. Until that night in the alley with Bean, I’d never had any real problems.”

  But when I finally did, they’d followed me home to Sophie. To the other witches in the Bay. Now that I knew Jonathan was behind the murders, how could I not blame myself? He wouldn’t have ended up in the Bay if not for his vendetta against me.

  The hole in my heart started to burn as the Sophie-sized ache turned to anger. Grieving for her was like walking on a knife’s edge—despair at her death on one side, raw fury at her murder on the other. I never knew where I’d end up on any given day—only that it cut deep either way.

  I didn’t want to think about the murder right now. About the hunter and his vampire bitch who’d poisoned her. I wanted to think about her life. What she stood for. What she would have wanted, and what kind of place was beautiful enough to serve as her final resting place.

  “Sophie always wanted to see the mountains,” I said, grateful for the warmth of Emilio’s touch. For his understanding. “She used to talk about planning a big hiking trip for us to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. I’d like to take her there one day, when all this is over. I think she’d like that.”

  As if to confirm, the card in my pocket warmed again.

  “That sounds like a beautiful tribute, Gray.” Emilio laced his fingers through mine.

  “How do you… I mean, I guess we need to have her cremated, right? God, then I need to figure out how to cancel her cell phone and close her bank accounts and stop her mail and make sure her bills are paid and… I don’t even know where to start with all this.”

  “You just did, Gray,” Emilio said. “I’ll make the arrangements with the funeral home. After that, we’ll just take things one day at a time. What else can we do, querida?”

  I sat up on the blanket, wrapping my arms around myself. Emilio was right. We were never promised more than that—one day was all we ever had. What else could we do?

  Emilio sat up next to me, placing a comforting hand on my back and offering a deep smile that swept the gloom from the corners of my heart.

  I returned it, already feeling lighter.

  “Should we save some brownies for the demons?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

  Now it was my turn for the mask of abject horror. I leaned across his lap and grabbed the pan from his other side, my spoon at the ready once again.

  “Just because I don’t want Asher to suffer does not mean I’m interested in sharing my brownies.”

  Emilio winked. “I didn’t think so.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, those demons are on their own tonight.”

  Emilio didn’t even hesitate before picking up his spoon. “Fair enough, querida. Fair enough.”

  Fifteen

  RONAN

  “Get out.”

  They were the first words I’d spoken to Asher since dragging his ass off the property an hour ago.

  We’d just pulled up to the loading dock at Waldrich’s warehouse after an hour of stone-cold silence, which was probably for the best. The long drive back to the Bay from the safe house gave me time to cool off.

  Marginally.

  I shut off the van and pocketed the keys. Without waiting for a reply, I hopped out and headed inside to pick up the delivery manifest from Waldrich, my and Gray’s boss.

  When I returned to the dock, I found Asher already hard at work, stacking boxes onto a hand truck and loading them into the van.

  “About time you showed up,” he snarled. “I’m freezing my balls off out here.”

  “It’s not my fault you like to strut around showing off your eight-pack. Next time put on a shirt.”

  “For one thing, that’s not where my balls are, and for two things, it’s not like you gave me a choice when you ordered me off the property.” Asher leaned back against the side of the van and shoved a hand through his hair. “For fuck’s sake, Vacarro. I was trying to help her.”

  “I think you and I have different definitions of help.” I shucked off my jacket and tossed it at him, then grabbed the hand truck to load up a few more boxes. “You were way out of line.”

  He didn’t respond right away, though I could tell it was just eating him up inside. Ash wasn’t human, but he wasn’t inhuman either; I’d seen the guilt in his eyes as he watched Gray head into the house with Emilio.

  Still, I was letting him stew in it. Whether he thought he was helping or not, he hurt the woman I loved.

  I clenched my jaw, swallowing down a fresh swell of anger as Ash made himself at home in my jacket.

  “Try not to sweat it all up, dickhole.”

  “Sweat this.” He grabbed his balls, classy guy that he was, and the sonofabitch almost had me laughing again.

  Fucking Asher.

  “Look,” he said, grabbing the last box and tossing it into the van. “The way things stand right now? If
that cocksucker gets his hands on her, Gray’s going down, guaranteed. Not without a fight, but all the fight in the world won’t matter if she ends up dead.”

  “Tell me something,” I said, slamming the van door. “Exactly how many times did your mother drop you on your head as a baby?”

  Asher flashed his tough-as-nails grin. “Not enough times to kill me, unfortunately for you and your witchy woman.”

  I thought of that witchy woman earlier tonight, backed into a corner, lighting his ass up like a firecracker.

  It would’ve made me smile if she wasn’t so upset about it.

  “For fuck’s sake, Ash. She’s human. A witch of indeterminate power, but still human.” I started up the van and navigated us through the district, heading toward Black Ruby, Darius’s club and our first delivery.

  The load was fairly light tonight—small favors. Between collecting overdue payments and pulling other odd jobs for Waldrich, I’d been handling Gray’s delivery shifts as best I could, but I wasn’t sure I could keep it up much longer. I didn’t like being away from her for so long, especially not while she was still struggling to get a handle on her powers, and I needed to focus on tracking down the hunter before any more witches got snatched.

  Especially Gray.

  “She’s a fucking target,” Ash said. “She’s not ready for him—that much is clear. And she’s way too exposed, even at the house. I don’t like it. Not after… after everything.” He cranked down the window as we wove through the narrow streets, keeping his eyes peeled for any bullshit.

  Just another Tuesday night in the Bay.

  But Ash, who’d ridden shotgun on shifts with me before and knew the drill, seemed antsy tonight.

  “You got something else on your mind, demon?” I asked.

  He didn’t say anything right away, but I caught the tick in his jaw, the tightening of his hand on the doorframe.

  I punched his thigh. “Out with it. Or I’m taking back my jacket.”

  “Some serious shit went down tonight,” he said.