Iniquitous: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Marked Book 3)

by Bianca Scardoni

  Regret immediately exploded in my gut and I folded inward. I couldn’t even go ten minutes alone without thinking about him. What the heck did that say about me? I stood back up and walked to the fireplace. I needed a distraction, something to keep my mind preoccupied. Grabbing the poker, I probed the burning wood until it rolled off the log it was resting on and settled beside it. I picked up another log and tossed it in.

  Turning on my heel, I faced the empty room again. I hated empty rooms. Empty spaces. I hated my own company. I glanced out into the corridor and wondered if it would be a completely horrible idea to go in and check on him…see how he was doing. I shook my head, deciding against it. He wanted to be alone. I needed to respect that.

  More waiting.

  More silence.

  I picked up an ornament from the mantel and turned it around in my hands, but it didn’t hold my attention for very long. I could feel the unease bubbling up inside of me, the tightness growing in my chest. The room felt as though it were starting to shrink, to close in on me. All the air was being sucked out of it. I drew in a hard breath, but it didn’t reach my lungs. My mind was racing off into dark places I didn’t want to revisit. The longer I waited, the more antsy I got, and the more antsy I got, the more Dominic’s face flashed through my head like a remedy. I couldn’t stay put any longer. I couldn’t just stand here and live inside the pain. There was no air inside the pain.

  This was a mistake.

  It’s too much, too soon.

  Trace was never going to forgive me. He was probably in there thinking up different ways to break up with me, to get me out of his house. And who could blame him? I should’ve never come here. I should’ve stayed with Dominic.

  It’s safer with Dominic.

  Easier with Dominic.

  I needed to go to him.

  I needed to go right now.

  I bolted out of the living room and made a frantic run for the front door. The ground swayed and rippled under my feet, but it only made me move faster. I had to get the hell out of here. With one hand on the door knob and the other on the lock, I twisted it back and forth in complete hysteria.

  “Open up, you stupid thing!” The lock clicked open and I turned the handle, yanking the door open. The cool, damp air hit my face like a prison escape.

  “Where are you going?” Trace’s deep voice startled me from behind.

  I whipped around and faced him. My eyes immediately doubled in size as a heated blush rippled across my cheeks. He was standing there without a shirt, and my brain clicked right off.

  “Jemma?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing together.

  “Huh?” My gaze dipped down to his abs and then to the jeans that were hanging loosely from his hip bone.

  There were new grooves there, I noticed, new muscles that hadn’t been there the last time I checked. I’d know it. I memorized the layout like the back of my hand.

  “Were you going somewhere?” he asked as he raised his hand and cupped the back of his neck again, making the delicate skin on his biceps stretch over the muscle.

  “I, um…I was just getting some air.” Liar, liar, face on fire.

  “That’s not a good idea,” he said as he took a cautious step towards me and then pushed the door shut. “You shouldn’t be out there on your own right now.”

  “Right.” I swayed towards him as he leaned in and locked the door behind me. His forearm brushed against mine as he pulled back and I nearly toppled over from the rush of feeling his bare skin against mine again.

  He straightened out and took a purposeful step back, apparently still needing that space between us. His eyes traveled down my body and then zipped back up to meet mine. “I’m gonna get myself a drink. You want one?”

  I wiggled my head from side to side. The last thing I wanted was a repeat of Nikki’s bitch-bash. I had enough regrets under my belt, thank you very much. “I can come keep you company though.” My shoulders sagged a little when I added, “I mean, if you want me to.”

  He didn’t say anything when he took a step back and then turned for the kitchen.

  Without me.

  I watched his bare back move further and further away from me as my heart swan-dived off a cliff.

  “You coming?” he asked, over his shoulder.

  A tiny slither of hope ignited in my heart. Maybe there was still hope for us after all. I rushed to catch up to him, following him past the living room and into the kitchen where he headed straight for the liquor cabinet. There was a vast collection of bottles in all different colors and sizes though I didn’t have enough drinking experience to recognize any of them.

  He grabbed one of the dark ones and then a glass from the cupboard and set them both on the wooden island between us. Twisting the cap off, he poured himself a glass and took a big, long swig of it. I stared at him across the way, working hard to keep my eyes above his collarbone. All I wanted to do in that moment was somersault over the island and jump his bones. And I seriously contemplated it too. Not just because he was hot as hell, but because it may have served as exactly the kind of diversion we needed. After all, he couldn’t yell at me if I was busy kissing his lips off, right?

  “Did you change your mind?” he asked, mistaking my ogling of his mouth with me wanting a sip of his drink.

  Biting my lower lip, I shook my head.

  His gaze dropped to my mouth, an obscure look flickering through his eyes.

  “I think we should talk,” I finally said as he polished off the rest of his drink. And, apparently, sooner than later because it looked like he was about to get sloshed.

  “I don’t want to talk.” He poured himself another glass and threw that one back just as quickly as the first one. I wasn’t sure if he was drinking to chase away the migraine, or the memories of what I’d done.

  “Trace. Please. We need to finish our conversation.”

  He flattened his palms on the counter and looked up at me under lidded eyes. “The only thing I want to finish right now is this bottle.”

  “You hate me,” I realized as pain strangled my heart.

  “No.” His eyes met mine and he shook his head softly, his hand wrapped firmly around his glass. But he didn’t pick it up this time. “I don’t hate you, Jemma. I could never hate you.”

  His words gave me courage—a little more hope. “I didn’t have another choice, Trace.”

  “I know that.”

  “It was Engel or Dominic.”

  His sad, cobalt eyes met mine again and my heart immediately sank. “I know that too,” he said, his voice filled with hurt as he snatched up the bottle and his glass and took off for the living room.

  I followed, always ready to worship him like the god he was.

  “Look, I get it, Jemma. I do. Doesn’t make it any easier though,” he said as he sat down on the couch and leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs as the bottleneck hung between his fingers. He wasn’t making eye-contact now.

  I felt as though gravity were pulling me down into the floorboards. “Doesn’t make what easier? Breaking up with me?” He’d never asked me to be his girlfriend officially, but it was pretty much implied. At least I thought it was.

  His jaw muscle pumped furiously, but he didn’t deny it. “You’re bonded to Dominic. You drank from him. I don’t think you get how bad this is.” He shook his head at his own words and then took another sip. “The bloodbond isn’t just going to go away, Jemma.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll fade, right? You said so yourself the last time.”

  I remembered it vividly. It was right after we began testing my unicorn-blood with Dominic. I’d begun feeling confused about my feelings for him and Trace was right there to reassure me that it wasn’t real; that the manufactured pull towards him would fade with time.

  “This isn’t like the last time,” he said icily.

  “Why not?”

  “Because, Jemma. You didn’t seal the bond last time,” he said, his voice as heavy as his eyes.

  “Seal the b
ond?” My head ticked back five notches. “I didn’t seal the bond this time either!” I had no idea what he was talking about or where he got his intel from, but he was hugely misinformed.

  “Yeah, Jemma. You did.” Sadness filtered in through his expression as he ran a hand down his majestic face. “You sealed it when you drank from him.”

  “What the hell are you talking about!” Terror exploded in my stomach like a buckshot. “What does that mean? I don’t understand what you’re saying!” And why the hell was I only hearing about this ‘sealing’ bullshit now?

  “I’m saying you made the bloodbond permanent.” He picked up his glass and tipped his head all the way back, pouring the rest of his drink down his throat without even touching the glass to his lips. “I’m saying I’m going to feel it every time I touch you.”

  Oh. My. God. No!

  “And the longer you stay away from him, the worse it’s going to get.” He pushed his hands through his inky-black hair and dropped his head, his gaze turning away from me as though he couldn’t face me anymore.

  I shook my head violently. This wasn’t happening. It just wasn’t. “This has to be a mistake.”

  “It isn’t.” His tone was so cold, so detached, it sent a shiver down my arms.

  “But, I didn’t…and he never…”

  “I’m sure he didn’t,” he said, sounding bored. His eyes, however, were anything but. His eyes were raw with the kind of emotion that slams you in the chest and steals your breath. “I’m sure he conveniently left that part out.”

  My mind was racing in dizzying circles, moving almost as fast as the room was. Was he seriously telling me that he was going to be forced to feel my connection to Dominic every time he touched me? That the longer I stayed away from Dominic, the more frenzied my feelings would get? And that it was never going to stop for the rest of our lives? My ears rang like alarm bells as the implications sank further into my soul.

  Touching me would become constant torture for him. No one in their right mind would want to live with that. And I would never ask him to. The future that we could have had—that we were supposed to have—just detonated right in front of my face. I was ruined…ruined for Trace. Dominic had made sure of it. And I couldn’t even hate him for it. I couldn’t even wish him dead because I wouldn’t mean it. The bloodbond wouldn’t let me mean it.

  Oh, my God.

  I bent forward, gasping for air again. Grasping for pieces of my ruined life as they fluttered away from me like debris caught in a storm. I needed air. I needed Dominic—I needed him to put me back together again.

  “You need to calm down. You’re hyperventilating.”

  I felt Trace’s hand on my back, the electricity between us instantly took flight through my body as he tried to soothe me. But it was only another painful reminder of what could have been. Of what will never again be. My legs trembled until they gave out and I collapsed onto the ground. Trace was right there with me.

  For now anyway.

  I knew that it was only a simple matter of time before he wouldn’t be. Tears brimmed and dropped freely to the ground like rain. I didn’t bother hiding them or covering up this time. There was no point, and I didn’t have the energy to keep fighting these losing battles. I didn’t have the strength to keep losing the people I loved most.

  “Jemma. Please. Look at me.” His voice was so soft it tickled my ears when he spoke.

  I shook my head, pushing the softness away. I didn’t want to listen to him. I didn’t want to look at him. It was only going to make it that much harder when he was gone for good.

  “Come on, don’t do that.” He picked up my chin and turned my face to his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I looked back up at him through blurry tears, and I saw it. I saw it right there on his face—the determination—the doomed countenance of a man who was determined to keep his hand on the fire despite his own burning flesh.

  My heart splintered, split right down the middle like cheap plastic because I knew I couldn’t let him do that. I couldn’t allow him to suffer through that. I loved him too much to ever consciously allow him to feel that kind of twisted pain.

  No matter how willing he thought he was.

  I opened my mouth to say just that, to tell him the words I never thought I’d say, but they never made it out. He shut me up the only way he knew how.

  He kissed me.

  22. KNOCKING ON HEAVEN’S DOOR

  Trace’s lips crashed against mine like a wave throwing itself against the shore—turbulent at first, and then slow and languid as he took me back out to sea with him. I’d like to say that I was strong enough to resist his current, that I fought against the wave that washed me under, but that would be a lie. I kissed him back hungrily, savoring the sweet taste of sugar and liquor on his lips as our mouths molded together in the most beautiful of tragic ways.

  For that brief moment in time, there was no hurt from the past, no fear of tomorrow. It was just me and the beautiful boy I loved, vibrating seamlessly in the here and now.

  “Trace,” I whimpered against his mouth as my hands moved over the planes of his bare chest. I meant for them to push against him, to stop us from going too far, but they seemed to have a mind of their own.

  His eyes darkened as his tongue dipped past the small opening of my mouth.

  A soft moan escaped my throat and suddenly, I was on my back, my skin pressing hard against the cold wooden floor. But I didn’t feel it. All I could feel was the warmth of his body covering mine, and the softness of his lips as he kissed me with enough heat to set the world on fire.

  Lifting his knee, he eased my legs apart and lowered himself down between my thighs. My heart thundered at his nearness, at the unadulterated intimacy between us. I didn’t think it could get any better—feel any better with him, and then he dug his fingers into my hips and deepened the kiss into something that was so much more than a kiss.

  There was no coming up for air then, no stopping to make sense out of any of this. We were moving full speed ahead in a vessel that had no breaks…

  No hope for tomorrow.

  He drew back, his eyes glowing like blue fire as he struggled to steady his breath. “Don’t talk like that, Jemma.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” I reminded him as I tried to steal another kiss from his lips, but he wouldn’t give in to me.

  “You know what I mean. There’s hope,” he insisted, though I wasn’t entirely sure he believed it himself.

  “Is there?” I reached up and nipped his bottom lip. “Because I don’t feel it anymore,” I said without bothering to edit the truth. I didn’t see the point in pretending anymore. A future together was impossible now, utterly hopeless.

  And I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to exist inside that hopelessness. I just wanted to sink into this stolen moment with him and keep our doomed reality at bay.

  “That’s just the bloodbond talking. You know that, right?”

  “Maybe.” I tried and failed to kiss him again.

  He leaned in and whispered hot in my ear. “I’m going to fix this, Jemma. I swear to God I will.”

  My eyes slammed shut, chasing away images I didn’t want to see anymore. “Can we not do this right now?” I pleaded with him, my throat bone-dry. I didn’t want to hear this. I didn’t want to listen to empty promises I knew he couldn’t fulfil about a future we no longer had.

  “It’s not an empty promise,” he answered, refusing to let up. “I’m not going to stop until I find a way to get you back. If magic created the bond, then magic can break it.”

  He knew more than anyone that magic couldn’t be undone. It was false hope, and I didn’t want any part of it. “You’re drunk, Trace.”

  “I may be drunk, but I still love you, Jemma. And I’m not giving you up.”

  Hearing him say those words only made the vise-grip around my heart clamp down harder.

  No more words.

  Words hurt.

  “I’m done
talking, Trace.” I reached up and looped my arms around his neck, desperate to pull him back down to me—to kiss me and let our want for each other torch everything else around us. I shifted under him, grinding my hips against his. “Finish what you started.”

  He let out a low, rumbling groan at the back of his throat.

  “Kiss me,” I pushed.

  “Not until you say it. I need to hear you say it.”

  I had no idea what he wanted me to say and I was too afraid to ask him.

  His thumb grazed my bottom lip, sending ripples of desire shooting through my body. “Tell me you still want me,” he said softly, staring down at me as pieces of his ebony hair fell between us. “Tell me we’re going to be together when this is over, just like we planned.”

  My resolve was starting to buckle. I shook my head, barely able to look him in the eye.

  The crackling sound of burning firewood filled the silence.

  “So, you’ve already given up on us then?” His eyes glimmered as he unlatched my arms from his neck and pulled away from me, taking all hope of a temporary sanctuary right along with him. He sat back on his legs and stared across at me, his bare chest heaving at petrifying speeds.

  The loss of his warmth immediately sobered me, brought me right back to my current living nightmare.

  “There is no us anymore, Trace,” I snapped at him, angry that I wasn’t in his arms anymore; in his future. I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them. “Don’t you get it? We’re nothing but a pipedream now. I’m bonded to Dominic for the rest of my life, and it’s only going to get stronger with every passing day. We’re literally on borrowed time and the clock is ticking faster than I can even stand.” I swallowed the burn at the back of my throat. “So tell me again how we’re going to be together? Tell me how this isn’t hopeless!”

  He didn’t say anything, but I could see him flexing his jaw, working hard to contain whatever raw emotion my words conjured up in him.

  “Even if you were willing to deal with that for the rest of your life…” I shook my head at the irony of it all.