Tormented (A Secret Salem Novel 4)

by J. N. Colon

  An arm reached over and slid across my torso. My head snapped to the side and I thought for an instant Mac was lying next to me. But then I smelled earthly amber and shifter fire and reality came crashing down around me.

  Demy peeked his head up, inky black hair sticking up everywhere and obscuring one violet eye. The other squinted at me. “You okay?”

  I attempted to keep the disappointment off my face and nodded.

  “Did you have a nightmare?” His voice was thick with sleep.

  I nodded.

  His visible brow arched. “Prophecy dream?”

  “No.” I sure as hell hoped not. Of course I wanted to be reunited with Mac, but I didn’t want to die in order to do it. I doubted he’d appreciate that.

  I glanced down at my diamond ring and royal band, twisting them around. “I didn’t dream about Mac’s death though.” Technically. It had been the first time in months.

  Demy’s head rested on my shoulder. “That’s good, right?”

  “Yeah.” I guess.

  His lips pressed against my shoulder gently. “It was me off course. My badass Russian shifter presence scared the nightmares away.”

  I scoffed and pushed his head away while I sat up. “You’re not that badass. You’re favorite movie is Footloose.”

  Demy gasped. “Hey! You promised you’d take that to the grave with you. What if someone overheard?”

  I laughed and kicked the covers off to get out of bed, but Demy’s arm caught me around the middle and hoisted me back.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to go to work.”

  “Already?” he pouted.

  “I have to get ready for an early appointment.” I tried to get free, but his arm was relentless.

  His eyes met mine, sympathy unexpectedly flashing in them. “No luck?”

  I shouldn’t be surprised he knew my reason for working at an occult shop, holding séances. I shook my head and sighed.

  “Well then, I guess you’ll need lots of energy for the strenuous day ahead.” His lips slipped down my jaw, nibbling gently on the tender skin of my neck, making me shiver.

  “Demy, what are you doing?” My voice sounded too breathy to be considered a protest.

  Without warning he rolled us over until I was hallway on top of him and bared his neck for me. Two tiny pin pricks was all that remained of my bite last night, his shifter body healing fast.

  “You need blood,” he said simply, his fingers tangling in my hair to draw me closer.

  I resisted. “I just fed last night.”

  His violet eyes stared down at me, brow furrowing. “Yeah and I bet that was all the blood you had yesterday.” My silence was answer enough.

  I sighed and pulled away a few inches. “Demy, I can’t feed on you that much. What if you start tuning?”

  He shot me an incredulous expression. “It would take a lot to turn a shifter plus I won’t be drinking any of your blood.” He shrugged. “Not my thing.”

  Demy was taking this so casually—like it wasn’t a big deal at all. Maybe it was just me. He’d grown up in the supernatural world where the rules were different. I had only been a vampire for a little over a year. What did I really know?

  His lips curled in a crooked smile, sensing my crumbling resolve. “Come on Rubi. I know you want to.” He shifted me until my back was halfway against his chest, his nose running down my neck and sniffing. “I can smell your hunger.” His voice dropped several octaves, vibrating against my skin.

  Oh shit. Could he?

  He chuckled darkly before spreading kisses down my jaw. My heart fluttered and heat quickly spread a flush all over my body. His fingers tiptoed across my ribs, burning through the thin tank top. I swallowed hard and tried to even my breathing to no avail. I could already feel my jaw beginning to ache.

  “Demy… I …”

  “Shush,” he interrupted. “No more talking.” His fingers gently grabbed my chin, tilting me until his mouth found mine. His tongue forced my lips apart without waiting on an invitation—he never did apparently—and took control of me. His free hand leisurely slipped under my shirt, tracing my naked ribs and probably feeling the full force of my erratic heartbeat.

  His slow, measured movements unraveled me and had my body growing languid and sinking into his chest. A low moan slipped out as my fangs achingly tore through my gums bit by bit, ready for another taste.

  “Demy,” I breathed into his mouth as his tongue still explored mine. The tip of it slipped over my throbbing canines, slicing a cut through the soft flesh, teasing my taste buds.

  He must have been with a vampire before because he knew exactly what he was doing. Or maybe he just knew me.

  My body thrummed with anticipation and I was on the verge of rolling around and driving my fangs into his neck again. And then the door suddenly creaked open.

  “Rubi, I was wondering if you wanted…” Miranda halted mid-sentence when she caught sight of Demy and me getting hot and heavy in the bed.

  With a start I jumped away from him, scrambling to the edge of the bed while my heart hammering and cheeks were deeply flushed.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said over the fingers covering her mouth, her jade eyes wide as saucers. “I-I didn’t think to knock.”

  My entire body began trembling and lungs crushed until it was impossible to breathe. Oh god. Mac’s mother just saw me kissing another guy. More than kissing.

  Guilt twisted my stomach as acid poured down my throat. My rings felt like hundred pounds on my tiny, betraying finger. A funny noise came out of my mouth and I slapped my hand over it.

  Demy reached out to me. “Rubi, it’s okay…”

  Unable to face either one of them I bolted into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind me. My knees buckled and I fell to the hard tile floor, shaking as tears clouded my vision and leaked down my eyes. My breaths came in the form of painful, heaving gasps as panic crested inside me.

  How could I do that? How could I betray Mac? I shouldn’t be feeding from Demy much less kissing him. Or anyone. Ever.

  I curled against the wall and pressed Mac’s ring into my chest until it bruised. And then when I felt it healing a little I did it again.

  A gentle knock resonated on the door. “Rubi, sweetheart, it’s Miranda. Can I come in?”

  My only response was a choked sob.

  “Rubi, please let me in. We need to talk.”

  Her voice was soft and held no anger. It was probably a ruse. I was cheating on her son. He wasn’t alive, but he still existed in some form somewhere.

  My fingers trembled as I reached out and flicked the lock. I scrambled back against the wall, tucking my head into my knees. My body tensed, prepared for some sort of attack. I deserved it.

  Instead Miranda slid down next to me, wrapping me in her warm, caring arms. “It’s okay Rubi.” She rubbed my back. “Just breathe sweetheart. Just breathe.”

  I took gulping swallows of air, choking and trying to breathe at the same time while still crying. Was this a trick? Would she calm me down and punish me when I least expected it?

  “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  My head shot up, staring incredulously at her through thick snarls of hair. “I-It’s not okay Miranda! I’m a horrible person. Y-You should kick me out of the house. You should disown me. Torture me. Anything!” I pressed Mac’s ring into my chest again, bruising me.

  Miranda’s jade eyes widened when she saw what I was doing and snatched my hand away, holding it in her iron grasp. “Rubi no. Don’t hurt yourself.” She pulled me against her chest and rocked me like a child. “Please I can’t stand you hurting yourself.”

  I cried into her shoulder, big heavy tears of agony as my insides twisted and ripped apart again. Crushing pain weighed me down, making it impossible to move my limbs except for the quakes that racked them.

  My world had gone from normal to wonderful in months. It had went from a dream to a nightmare in seconds—as many
seconds as it took for that arrow to find it’s mark.

  When I finally quieted Miranda still held me like my own mother would. “Rubi, you did nothing wrong,” she whispered into my ear. “He’s gone. You shouldn’t feel guilty for it.”

  “But he’s not gone completely,” I argued. “He’s out there somewhere, his spirit is. I just have to find him.”

  “Oh Rubi, he can’t come back.” Her fingers stroked my hair, rubbing my scalp soothingly. “You’re a vampire now. You have different needs then humans.”

  “When Whit thought you were dead he didn’t move on with anyone in five years.”

  She sighed. “You don’t know everything about Whitmore. And I know for a fact he fed off others and probably had relations with them. Nothing serious, but…” I could feel her shrug.

  “Not so soon,” I sniffled.

  “Because he didn’t have someone like Demy.” She pulled my face up, wiping away tears with her long pale fingers. “He loves you and wants to be there for you.”

  I averted my gaze to her soaked sweater, the ends of her auburn hair wet too. “What if I don’t want to feel better or ever get over his death?”

  “You have to Rubi.” Her fingers gripped my chin, tilting it up to meet her gaze that was shadowed by something dark. “I’m not trying to be insensitive, but you are a princess and the future leader of the vampires in this sector. You have to be careful. You cannot show weakness.”

  Her words stunned me, making any words of protest fall away.

  “I know you’re grieving now, we all are, but you will eventually have to face the vampire world again.”

  I knew what she was trying to say. It was the only reason besides finding Mac’s spirit that I got up every day. Simply being alive wasn’t enough or at least it wouldn’t be. I’d have to fake it.

  Miranda brushed strands of hair from my wet face, a sad, gentle smile splitting her lips. “Try to let Demy help you for a while. If he makes you feel better then let him be whatever you need.”

  I nodded.

  Her brow suddenly knit, creating lines in her usually smooth forehead. “But you know he can’t be you’re mate? He can’t ever be your mate and king… unless he lets you turn him.”

  “We know.” I sat up straighter. “He’s too important to the shifters.”

  Miranda sighed in relief she failed at hiding and leaned forward, planting a kiss on the top of my head. “Good.” She held me against her for a moment longer. “We just want you to get better.”

  “I will.” Or at least fake it.

  My fingers held onto the pearl necklace, pretending to call forth the spirit of Dianne Foster. In reality the tiny woman was already sitting in the chair a few feet away, shooting daggers at her granddaughter, the blonde across from me.

  “She’s here Mimi.” I spoke in my slow, psychic-y voice that matched the whole Moon-gem garb I was sporting again.

  The brunette next to Mimi gasped and squeezed her hand resting on the table. The two girls were college students and clearly sorority sisters by the matching Greek Symbols on their necklaces. Their long glossy hair hung in the same manner and their pink sweaters matched as did their shiny bright pink lip gloss.

  “Does she have a message for me?” Mimi asked, her blue eyes hopeful.

  “Yeah I got a message all right,” Dianne said, crossing her arms against her chest. Her white hair was swept up in a perfect French twist, accentuating a pair of wide, deep blue eyes. A structured powder blue pant suit covered her petite frame while real pearls draped from her ears and around her neck. “Tell her to put back my damn Tiffany pearl necklace her grandfather got me for my 30th birthday. I can’t believe she brought that to a psychic reading. It’s worth a fortune!” She leaned forward. “Couldn’t you have just brought a damn shirt? Or a sock even?”

  I pressed my lips together to hold in the laughter. “Um, she says she recognizes her Tiffany pearl necklace your grandfather got her for her 30th birthday.”

  Both girls gasped and eyes traveled around the room like most customers, trying to spot the spirit.

  Dianne shook her head and gave me a pointed look. “She’s beautiful like her mother and me, but that girl did not inherit the smart genes from me. She got that from her father.” She tried to elbow me. “He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed if you know what I mean.”

  I rolled my head, stalling to contain my giggles. “She says you’re very beautiful like her and your mother, but you also have a lot of your father in you.”

  They both smiled.

  “She seems so nice Mimi,” Lana said, grinning stupidly into space.

  “She knows how to pick a friend too,” Dianne remarked sarcastically.

  “She says you’re a good friend Lana.”

  She grabbed her chest dramatically while her eyes watered. “That is so sweet.” For fish stick’s sake she even sniffled.

  Mimi impatiently tapped the table with a set of hard, perfectly manicured fake nails. “Anything else about me?”

  “Yeah, tell her that idiot Max she’s been seeing is no good. He’s a gold digging man whore. And he’s cheating on her.”

  Ah shit. I hated delivering messages like that. People only want to hear the good things and when something bad comes up they tend to blame me. Not sure how they come to that conclusion though.

  I glanced at Dianne with a grimace, pleading for her to give me something else to work with.

  “Josh, now he’s a keeper,” she continued. “He adores Mimi and is real husband material. He’s smart and just her type. He’ll treat her like a princess.” She nodded in approval. “ I can tell.”

  I turned my attention back to Mimi. “She says Max isn’t the one for you.”

  Mimi’s eyes widened and her mouth hung in a little stunned ‘O’. “Why not?” Her eyes sparked and I could detect the embers of anger beginning to ignite.

  See what I mean?

  “You’re grandmother says Josh is your true love.”

  Mimi’s head snapped back, surprise morphing her face. “Really?”

  I nodded. “Yep. She’s got it on good authority he’ll treat you like a princess.”

  The girls looked at each other, conspiratorial grins slowly curling their lips and Mimi’s rising anger forgotten.

  My flesh suddenly exploded in goose bumps and the hair on my arms and back of my neck stood on end. My gaze flickered behind the girls, widening at the grotesque figure crawling on the floor.

  It was a person—or at least used to be—with stubby, disfigured legs trailing behind him. Patches of russet brown hair were falling out, leaving behind bleeding sores on his scalp. Rotting teeth were visible through dry, cracked lips currently pulled back in a snarl.

  My stomach churned with acid and I felt my whole body tense up like a bow string about to pop.

  “Is everything okay?” Mimi asked, glancing over my shoulder to follow my line of vision unable to see the ghoulish, twisted creature slowly coming toward me.

  “F-Fine.”

  Chapter 7

  “Princessssss.” He drawled the word out, the long second syllable ending in an unnatural hiss. “You should be with ussss.” His tongue flicked out, dripping drool down his square chin. His soiled flannel black and blue shirt was ripped, barely covering the flesh of his sickly pale chest where a gold necklace sat nestled against deep, ghastly scars. His jeans were in tatters, revealing those deformed, knotted legs lying limp behind him.

  A cold sweat broke across my skin and my body shivered. I assumed he was a ghost from the way only me—super freak—could see him. And also because he looked like he crawled right out of a cemetery.

  Another shiver wracked my body when I remembered being dragged into my own grave in my nightmare.

  I shook the terrifying memories off and focused on the new terror before me. There was something familiar about this ghost. Maybe I’d seen him before—in a nightmare. They didn’t usually appear to me so vile and disgusting. Nor were they trying to torment me while
I was awake. William, the dead hunter, was the only exception.

  He stopped his slow, slimy crawl to wipe drool off his face, his unnaturally long tongue slithering out and licking the dimple in the center of his chin while his hazel eyes bored into me, anger radiating out the irises where a distinct silver ring glimmered.

  Was he the ghost of a vampire?

  As if reading my mind, fangs dropped from his rotting gums, making him even more menacing and frightening as he resumed his crawl with his hands on the ground.

  Mother shucking shell fish! Was I staring in a horror movie?

  The curtain suddenly shifted and a tiny black ball of fur shot in and onto the table with a soft little meow.

  The girls jumped and held onto each other before realizing the unwarranted cause of their fright. I on the other hand knew exactly what or rather who it was. Shiny black fur coated his tiny little body and big purple eyes stared up at me, pleading.

  Demy.

  The girls suddenly cooed simultaneously.

  “Awe, it’s a kitten!” Lana’s voice had went from girly and giggly to an ear-piercing howl of baby talk. I bet every baby she comes in contact with screams their head off.

  My eyes flickered toward the floor no longer inhabited by the crawling ghost. I breathed in a ragged lungful of air, my shoulders sagging in relief. What. The. Hell. Was. That?

  Mimi wiggled her fingers toward, itching to feel his soft fur. “Is it yours?”

  Demy continued to look up at me and meowed again as if to ask well?

  Ugh. He was so damn cute how could I resist. “Yeah,” I sighed. “He’s mine all right.” I reached out and scratched behind his ear. “He’s my—um—familiar.” I heard that on one of those witchy shows.

  “Can we pet him?” the girls asked in unison, doing on my vampire hearing with their horrid baby voices.

  Gees. Did they share a brain? “Sure.”

  Demy perked up and slinked over to the other side of the table, his head held high and tail proudly flicking back and forth. I held my breath to keep from snorting at his pompous little prance. The girls cooed and giggled, petting kitten Demy and he was certainly soaking it up, purring and shaking his butt.