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

by Sarah Piper

  “She began to drop subtle hints about becoming one of us,” he continued. “And finally, she asked me to do it. I refused, explaining to her about our custom—we were twenty strong at that point, and until one of our line passed, we could not make another. Of course, this only made her more determined. She begged, she threw tantrums, she threatened to… to take her own life.” His voice broke on the last word, shocking me with its raw pain.

  “I’m… sorry,” I said, equally shocked to find that I’d actually meant it.

  “As am I.” He offered a faint smile, perhaps the first genuine moment we’d shared. “You asked me, Mr. Beaumont, if I’d offered to turn Fiona. The answer is no. She simply… wore me down. So, when one of our clan was killed during a skirmish in Buffalo last fall, I finally turned her. Two weeks later, she was gone.”

  “And you never heard from her again?”

  “No. You know, the worst part of this ordeal isn’t that she betrayed me or broke our rules. It’s that she broke my heart.” He closed his eyes, and I saw his real age, the mask he’d worn for centuries finally dropping away. Behind his customs and pompousness and power, Grinaldi was no more than a tired old man, the last of a dying line struggling to bear the infinite weight of a heart besieged with regret.

  Like so many of our kind.

  It was a harsh reminder that with very few exceptions—Fiona notwithstanding—vampires did not choose this life. It was chosen for us, leaving us to march onward as best we could, or simply wither and die.

  I sensed our visit had come to its end. Looking upon Vincenzo Grinaldi with new eyes, I offered my final farewell. “Thank you for your time and hospitality, Mr. Grinaldi. I shall be in touch about Fiona soon.”

  He surprised me once more by bowing his head in respect, and without another word, I allowed myself to be led by another of his servants to the main entrance, my throat unexpectedly tight with some unnamed emotion.

  Stepping out into the cool upstate New York night, I was overcome with the need to gorge myself on the scent of fresh air and moss and living things, and I took several deep breaths before sliding into my waiting town car.

  “To the hotel, sir?” My driver asked, navigating us out of the wooded area that camouflaged the Grinaldi estate.

  “Not yet, Michael. We need to make a detour.”

  “Where to?”

  “Phoenicia. The county courthouse, please.”

  “As you wish, sir.” He spoke a new command to his GPS unit, which promptly recalculated our route. “Though they’re almost certainly closed for the evening.”

  “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

  Twenty-Three

  GRAY

  One week after I’d kissed Darius goodbye in our driveway, I awoke in Ronan’s bed from a dreamless sleep to the rich whiskey-and-leather scent of my vampire.

  “Darius?” I whispered, sitting up and opening my eyes. His scent still lingered, but he wasn’t here.

  Ronan was gone, too, and in his place I found a small gift box sitting on the pillow. It was wrapped in glossy white paper embossed with roses and tied with a gold silk ribbon, as lovely and tasteful as the man I suspected had left it for me.

  Forcing down the urge to tear into the present, I carefully unwrapped the box. The paper alone was a gift—thick and luxurious, the roses as soft as velvet—and I wanted to save it.

  As butterflies swirled in my stomach, I opened the box and reached inside, pulling out a small white notecard written in the most elegant handwriting I’d ever seen:

  A promise of more to come…

  Love, D

  Beneath the card sat a small but heavy object wrapped in tissue. I took it out of the box and removed the wrapping, revealing a crystal snow globe no larger than a plum. It looked handmade; the scene inside was intricately crafted and painted, the whole of Manhattan miniaturized in a perfect likeness. When I shook it, tiny white and silver snowflakes swirled, capturing the city in a glittering storm.

  It was mesmerizing. It was beautiful. It was perfect.

  Tears blurred my vision. Not just from the thoughtful gift and the sweet note and the giddy excitement that filled me when I imagined traveling to New York with Darius one day, but because the gift meant he’d returned safe from his trip. It meant that he was here, right now, under this very roof.

  I didn’t care if it was the middle of the day and he was sound asleep. No one could stop me from slipping into the basement and climbing into his bed, wrapping him in my arms, and covering him with happy, tear-stained kisses.

  I brushed my teeth and twisted my hair into a messy bun, then headed out into the kitchen, practically bouncing on my toes.

  I was so happy Darius was home safe that not even Asher’s ever-present scowling could ruin my mood or steal the smile from my face.

  “Good morning,” I said, beaming. “Would anyone like fresh coffee? I’m about to make a—”

  The rest of the words died on my tongue when I saw their grim faces, the three of them standing around the center island, staring at me.

  Concern lingered in their eyes.

  “What happened?” I breathed, pressing a hand to my heart. “Is Darius…?”

  “He’s fine,” Ronan assured me, though the tightness in his voice suggested otherwise. He nodded toward the door that led down to the Darius’s room in the basement. “He’s waiting for us.”

  “He’s awake?” I asked.

  “Hasn’t slept since he got back.”

  “You need to tell me what’s going on,” I said. “You’re freaking me out.”

  “It’s better if we show you, querida,” Emilio said.

  “Let’s go.” Ronan reached for my hand, but instead of squeezing it like I expected, he pressed a hawthorn stake to my palm, folding my fingers tight around it. “Darius wants us all down there when she wakes up.”

  Twenty-Four

  GRAY

  Holding a stake of his own, Darius was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, his jaw clenched tight, his normally immaculate wavy hair untamed. He smiled when he saw me, his eyes sparking for the briefest instant, unleashing a curl of fire in my chest.

  But our happy reunion would have to wait.

  “There’s someone you need to see,” he said, cupping a hand around the back of my neck and gently steering me into the main room of the basement.

  It was set up like a family room, with thick beige wall-to-wall carpets, two black leather sofas, and a big flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, currently tuned to an Alaskan survival show on mute.

  At the other end of the room was a dry bar and four cocktail chairs. Chained to one of them was a woman with long, straight, chestnut-colored hair, wearing an ankle-length black dress, a threadbare cardigan, and one sneaker.

  Her skin looked ashy in the flickering blue light of the television, but I recognized her immediately.

  “Fiona Brentwood?” I whispered. Apparently, the snow globe wasn’t the only gift he’d brought back.

  He’d also picked up a time machine.

  That’s how it felt as I stared into the sleeping face of a girl I hadn’t seen since my junior year of high school.

  “Careful,” he said, brushing his knuckles down the back of my arm as I approached her. “She’s bound and sedated, but she’s still a vampire, Gray.”

  I nodded, keeping my stake at the ready just in case. Her hair was a little longer than when I’d last seen her, her skin unnaturally flawless, but otherwise she looked exactly as I remembered her.

  Still sedated, she rested calmly, not moving a muscle.

  Not even to breathe.

  She no longer needed to.

  Little Fiona Brentwood is a vampire.

  I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  She’d been an awkward kid back then, two years our junior, a little too loud, way too clingy. She had a huge crush on Jonathan, which I found endearing, but he couldn’t stand her. She’d tag along everywhere we went—to the Shop-’N-Save on early dismissal days, where sh
e’d offer to pay for our ice cream or candy. To the Palace Theater for a Sunday matinee. On our bikes to the wooden playground not far from school, where she’d do flips on the parallel bars while he and I sat under the fake drawbridge kissing until we ran out of breath.

  Jonathan was perpetually annoyed by her.

  I used to feel bad about it, inviting her along for pizza or a hike up Duckback Mountain on the weekends. He’d go along with it, but he always said the same thing afterward: I just want you all to myself once in awhile, Sunshine. What’s wrong with that?

  I loved it when he called me Sunshine. Rayanne, he used to say. My little ray of sunshine. In my immature, starry-eyed mind, I thought he was just being romantic.

  Goosebumps rose on my arms.

  Without warning, Fiona’s eyes opened.

  “Shit!” I jumped back, my heart leaping into my throat.

  Her lips curved, but her smile was small and sad, tinged with something that looked an awful lot like regret. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Hey, Ray-Ray.”

  “Hey, Feefs,” I said automatically, the nickname I’d given her coming back as easily as the one she’d given me.

  Guys! I got my mom’s credit card! Wanna go to Java House?

  Her voice echoed through my memory, and I stared at her open-mouthed, struggling to reconcile the sweet-but-goofy kid I’d once known with the beautiful vampire sitting before me now.

  The vampire Darius had captured.

  The Grinaldi rogue who’d teamed up with Jonathan to murder my best friend.

  Holy. Shit.

  It’d taken all those minutes for the initial surprise to wear off, and when the fog finally lifted, the reality of the situation struck me like lightning, fierce and destructive, a raw bolt of power shocking me into action.

  I lunged for her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and jerking her head backward, pressing the tip of my stake to the soft underside of her chin.

  I waited for a pair of strong hands to land on my shoulders, an arm to slip around my waist, a calm voice of reason to talk me down. But none of the guys made a move to stop me. They simply stood by my side, rock-solid and supportive, their own stakes held tight.

  “Tell me he made you do it,” I said, my teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. “He threatened your family and forced you to turn, forced you to give him your blood. Tell me he preyed on your feelings for him and lured you into his trap. Tell me he left you no other choice.”

  My arms trembled, my chest heaving like I couldn’t get enough air. I wanted it so, so badly to be true—that he’d forced her. Because then I might be able to make sense of it. I might be able to channel all of my rage, all of my grief, all of this churning, roiling, boiling fury into making sure Jonathan died in the most painful, horrific way imaginable.

  I might even be able to forgive her.

  “Tell me!” I screamed.

  But even with a stake pressed uncomfortably against her throat, she still shook her head. “All he’s ever wanted was to reclaim his magical heritage. He told me he needed a vampire to do that.”

  “And you volunteered?”

  “I loved him enough to make the sacrifice. I still do love him, even after everything.”

  Stake her, a voice inside me urged. Paralyze her. Light a match. End her.

  The darkness slithered inside me, a twisted black serpent desperate for release.

  Unleash me and watch her burn, burn, burn…

  God, I was so tempted. It wouldn’t take much. Just a stake to the throat, then I could get one of the guys to take her out back and decapitate her. Or burn her.

  Burn her!

  I could almost taste the smoke…

  I closed my eyes, shaking it off. I couldn’t end her. Not until we found out what she knew. Not until we finished making—and executing—our plan.

  I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, forcing the serpent inside me back into its cage.

  I flicked my gaze to Darius, who stood unmoving beside me, his arms at his sides.

  “How did you find this… this filth?” I ground out the word, tightening my grip on her hair. Fiona didn’t make a sound, didn’t whimper or beg. Her eyes were flat, her expression neutral.

  It was like she’d already given up, which pissed me off even more.

  As far as I was concerned, she wasn’t allowed to give up or take the easy way out. Not after what she’d done to Sophie.

  “It’s a long story,” Darius said, “but after I spoke with Grinaldi, I decided to start in Phoenicia. Public records pointed me to the location of her family home, where I’d hoped to gain some additional insights. Imagine my surprise when the vampire herself answered the door, smiling as though I were a neighbor delivering a fresh-baked apple pie.”

  “My mom was expecting a visitor,” she said simply, like that was the only part of the story worth commenting on.

  “Did this visitor know there was a monster in her midst?” I asked. “Did your mother?”

  Again, she shook her pathetic head. “After I left Jonathan, I… I had nowhere else to go. My mother had no idea what I’d become.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What I’d done.”

  For the first time since she’d opened them, her eyes glazed with emotion. Her calm detachment was slipping away, revealing the broken girl beneath the mask.

  Suddenly she was fourteen again, crying in the girls’ bathroom because Jonathan had told her to get lost.

  “I just want to be his friend, Ray-Ray. I don’t get why he’s so mean to me.”

  My heart skipped, an old, familiar ache pooling in my gut.

  Pity.

  I wouldn’t fall for it, though. Sophie was dead because of her. I was beyond compassion. Beyond even the most basic form of human decency.

  “Why?” I demanded, my throat burning as I shouted in her face. I didn’t need to elaborate; she knew damn well what I meant.

  Why had she gone along with his plans?

  Why had she helped him kill my best friend and so many others?

  Why had she given her life up for a monster?

  Fiona took a moment to consider my question, not blinking, not breathing, not doing much of anything but staring up at me with the same light brown eyes that had once looked at me as if I were her big sister—someone she admired, envied, loved, and hated all at once.

  When she spoke again, her voice was high and sharp.

  “Do you know what it's like to love someone so much you'd die for them, even knowing they’d never do the same for you? To love them so much your heart breaks every time they say your name because you fear each time will be the last? Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

  My heart squeezed in my chest, but I refused to give her an inch. Refused to let her manipulate me into thinking we had anything in common other than one very unfortunate, long since outgrown crush.

  “No, Fiona. But I do know what it’s like to love someone so much you go to sleep every night praying you don’t dream, because if you dream about them, waking up feels like losing them all over again. I know what it’s like to replay the memory of someone you love saying your name a thousand times a day because you fear today might be the day you finally forget the sound of their voice. And I know what it’s like to watch someone you love die right before your eyes because someone like you decided to take something that never belonged to them in the first place.”

  My eyes burned right through her, and I was suddenly overcome with the strange and inexplicable urge to bite her. I wanted to jump into her lap, sink my teeth into her skin, rend the flesh from her bones.

  Magic pulsed across my palms, and her eyes widened.

  Obliterate her…

  Darius stepped up behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders. I felt the lightest tough of his mental influence brush against my mind, almost as if he were asking permission to be there.

  The sensation was odd, but not unpleasant—like going outside with wet hair in the winter, but on the inside of my head.

 
; I closed my eyes and took in a breath, letting down the walls I hadn’t even realized I’d erected, inviting him in. His presence washed over me, cool and soothing.

  “What can you tell us about his plans?” Darius asked Fiona, still keeping his hands—and his thoughts—on me.

  “I don’t know what his endgame is,” she said.

  “That’s easy,” Ronan said, speaking up for the first time. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how quiet they’d all been. “The hunters’ endgame is always the same. They want to eradicate witches and steal their magic.”

  “Not Jonathan.” Fiona shook her head. “He’s not like his father and the others. He… took a different path.”

  “Elaborate,” Asher said.

  “Well, the way he explained it, his father’s generation is old-school. Pitchforks and torches, root out the witches, burn them to the ground, that sort of thing.”

  “That sort of thing?” This, from Emilio, whose low growl sent shivers down my spine. He stepped up close to her, grabbing the chains at her chest. “Do you think this is just a game, vampire? Witches—women and girls, some of them younger than you—are being murdered. Kidnapped. Tortured. All because they’re born with something through no choice of their own that the hunters decided belongs to them.”

  Emilio, who’d been the strong and silent partner behind me through this entire ordeal, was shaking with rage. I’d ever seen him so angry.

  Fiona had the grace to lower her head.

  Emilio finally backed off, coming to stand beside me. Despite his anger, when his eyes met mine in the dim space, they were soft and kind, melting me just a little bit.

  “Go on,” Darius told her.

  “Jonathan… He’s big on technology. Inventions. Experimentation. When one fails, he just comes up with something else. He’s always testing new ways to track down witches—not just from magical hotspots, but high-tech stuff like cell phone records and internet tracking, social media posts, credit card records, municipal security cameras. He’s even hired private investigators a few times.”