Destiny
Brightest Kind of Darkness
Book 3
by
P.T. Michelle
When destiny is on the line, will love be enough to light the way?
In order to save Ethan, Nara gets pulled deeper into his dark world, where everything she thought she knew about Ethan and herself turns on its head.
Ethan and Nara turn up the heat with bone-melting seduction and heart-rending moments, but surprising revelations, lies, treachery, betrayal, and unimaginable evil will challenge their relationship and their future together.
As the stakes rise, encompassing more than just her relationship with Ethan, will Nara make the ultimate sacrifice?
Copyright 2013 by P.T. Michelle
All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook cannot be re-sold or given away to others. No parts of this ebook may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter One
Nara
“Did you find the feather I left for you?” Ethan’s deep blue gaze holds mine as he hooks his fingers in my jeans’ belt loops and tugs.
I bite my lip and take a step toward him, loving how such a simple thing can ramp my heart rate just because it’s him. “Yes, exactly where you left it.”
He slowly wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into his personal space. “And?”
The second my palms land on his hard chest, my knees wobble. Why does he do this to me every time we touch? Cool wind whips through the frozen trees all around us, popping their ice-coated spindly limbs. My hair stirs, exposing my neck, but Ethan’s heat flows through my veins, warming me, setting my heart racing like a hummingbird’s. The last time we were together, while I’d slept in his arms, he’d tucked a raven’s feather where my underwear curved along my hip before he left town; it was a promise of his return…and so much more we’d yet to explore with each other. I smile as I grasp his muscular shoulders, my breathing matching my quickening pulse. “Your promises are very memorable.”
He inhales deeply and places his hands on my waist. His deep blue irises darken, churning in a swirl of blue-black intensity as his thumbs run along the top of my jeans, then slide inside the material. “So you remember my promise?”
My fingers curl on his shoulders. So much pent-up emotion is running through me, I just nod.
“I want to fulfill this one, Nara.” His fingers tighten, flexing against the back of my hips, pulling me forward ever so slowly. “Very much. Will you let me?”
His thighs brush mine and with each rise and fall of his chest, I feel his heart. Thump, thump. Then nothing. Thump, thump. Then nothing. I burn everywhere we touch, but I hate when his heart leaves mine, even for a second as he breathes. I rise up onto my tiptoes and clasp his neck, pulling his ear down to my mouth. “There’s nothing I want more.”
Ethan exhales a harsh, trembling breath, then yanks me against him until our bodies fully connect. Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. He disappears so quickly I’m left standing, hiked up on my toes, arms holding nothing but wisps of morning fog.
Where did he go? The icy landscape quickly thickens, eerie creaking sounds splintering along the branches. Frigid cold rushes my lungs, and I turn in the arctic, seemingly endless woods, panic surging.
“Ethan! Where are you?” While my voice echoes, I clench my teeth to keep them from chattering so I can hear his response. Nothing. No, he can’t be gone.
I turn to call out in the opposite direction, but a sudden, ear-piercing sound echoes through the forest. I cringe and cuff my ears, squeezing my eyes shut against the jarring noise.
My eyes fly open to my darkened bedroom, a shrill sound grating in my ears. My cell phone’s trilling on my nightstand, an unrecognizable number on the display.
Is Ethan finally calling? Five a.m. glows on my phone. Just thirty-six hours after he was supposed to call me. Maybe all those freaked out texts I’d sent finally went through. Whose number is this? Danielle’s? She’s probably the reason he’s late. Annoyance briefly flits through me as I lift my phone and hit the Answer button. “Hello?”
“Nara? I’m sorry to call so early.”
I don’t recognize the voice, but the man’s tired, worried tone makes me sit up. That, coupled with the fact I’d just been dreaming— yet another normal, inexplicable dream, where fantasy, reality, and deep-seated worries converge—jolts me straight up in bed. “Yes, this is Nara? Who is this?”
“It’s Samson. I just wanted to let you know that Ethan’s in the hospital and—”
“Hospital?” Blood rushes in my ears and my chest suddenly feels too small for my lungs. Is that why I’m having any dreams at all right now...because something’s happened to Ethan? I push away my frantic thoughts and concentrate on what Ethan’s older brother is saying.
“—found your number among Ethan’s things. I thought you’d like to know.” The sound of something opening then closing floats across the line.
“Which hospital?” I whisper, my throat raw and voice hoarse as tears gather.
“He’s at Jefferson. I’ve only come home long enough to shower and get a change of clothes. I want to get back before my parents arrive. I’ll be heading there soon. They’re only letting family in the room right now, but I thought if you came with me they’d let you see him—”
“Yes!” I say, quickly. “Oh God, Samson—”
“The doctors think he’s going to be okay, Nara. They’re working on getting the swelling to go down.”
“Swelling?” My voice pitches higher. I no longer feel my fingers wrapped around the phone.
“I’ll explain on the way,” he says. “Oh, I don’t know where you live. Want to give me directions to your house?”
“I’ll come to you. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“All right. See you then.”
Houdini crawls and stretches his muscular dog body across the covers, nudging his wet nose against my open palm. “Not now, Houdini. Mom’ll take you out later. I have to get dressed.”
When Houdini glances at the window, my gaze follows. Patch leans heavily against the glass, his black head tucked toward his chest. He’s usually pecking at the window insistently and peering at me with that white patch of feathers around his dark eye. I’ve never seen the raven so subdued. His despondency spurs me into a flurry of frantic motion. Dumping all my books out of my backpack, I run to the dresser and grab any clothes I can find.
Samson’s passenger seat is freezing, but I ignore the leather’s biting cold seeping into my jeans. He’d gestured for me to go ahead and get in his car while he pushes the holiday garland and white lights out of his way to slip the house key up high onto a jutting eave. Why doesn’t he have it on his keychain? The answer comes to me as I tuck my backpack at my feet. Probably so Ethan doesn’t have to carry one.
Samson slides into his seat and I twist my fing
erless gloved hands in my lap. I itch to pepper him with questions, but I hold back and wait for him to speak. Instead of providing immediate answers, he infuriatingly reaches over and cranks up the heat. As he pulls out of his driveway, I take in his tense profile. Normally he looks every bit his twenty-three-year-old age, but with a couple days’ scruff on his cheeks and worry lines creasing his brow, he looks much older then five years Ethan’s senior.
As soon as the warmth starts to chase away the cold in the car, he runs a hand through his close-cropped blond hair and exhales deeply, turning light blue eyes my way. “When Ethan didn’t show up on Monday night like I expected him to, I went looking for him.” He pauses, then plunges on, “If it hadn’t been for the tracker I’d placed on his car, I’d never have found it halfway between here and D.C.”
When I just stare at him, he shakes his head. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t put it there to keep tabs on him, but his car’s a classic. If it ever got stolen, I wanted to be able to get it back.”
“No, that’s not it. It’s Wednesday. Ethan’s been in the hospital since—”
“Since one a.m. Tuesday morning after we found him.”
My chest cinches with worry and relief. Ethan hadn’t forgotten to call or gone quiet again like he had before he came to Virginia this past weekend just for our school dance. My brow furrows. “D.C.? I’m confused. I thought he was in Michigan with your parents.”
Samson presses his lips together and turns onto the highway. “He must’ve left there and gone to D.C. for some reason, but I have no idea why. We don’t have any family there.”
Why did Ethan take a detour to D.C.? “What happened?” My voice is barely above a whisper while images from horrific car accidents I’ve seen on the news pop in my mind.
“I found his car flipped over in a ravine. Because of icy roads that night, they can’t tell if he just lost control or what happened.”
My eyes widen. “They don’t think it was an accident?” Please let this have been just a freak accident. Please don’t let this have anything to do with the changes I’d seen in Ethan before he left my house to collect his things back in Michigan.
Samson flicks on his blinker and takes the exit, his hand gripping the steering wheel tighter. “When I got there, I found Ethan along the edge of the woods about thirty feet from his car. He’d been thrown through the windshield. According to the police report, they’re calling it an accident. They say there was too much sleet to determine otherwise.”
“Through the window?” I touch my lips with trembling fingers. “Oh, God. It’s his head, isn’t it?”
He nods solemnly and pulls into the hospital parking lot. “He’s heavily sedated until the swelling goes down, which kind of makes it hard to ask him why he was in D.C. If that’s where he was coming from.” He blows out a breath of frustration. “I’d just settle for him recovering right now.”
Samson and I are quiet as we walk down the hall toward Ethan’s hospital room. I can’t enjoy all the Christmas decorations and blinking lights that decorate the nurses’ station. Instead I look away and grip my backpack’s strap tighter on my shoulder while my stomach roils with nausea. Before I’d left the house, Mom didn’t say anything to me about skipping school once I told her about Ethan. She’d just written me an excuse note and hugged me, her perfume tickling my nose as she whispered in my ear, “I’m so sorry, Inara. I hope he’ll be okay. Text me with updates.”
Right before we walk into the room, Samson grips my arm, his expression grim. “He’s banged up a bit. I just want to prepare you, okay?”
I fight the new level of worry and nod mutely, then follow Samson into the room.
It takes everything inside me not to cry out when I see Ethan: his bruised left eye, cuts on his face, the bandage on his left arm, the repetitive whooshing sound of the ventilator machine connected to the tube taped to his mouth. But it’s the belted straps holding him down that sends alarm bells clanging through my mind. I can’t tear my gaze away from them. “Why is he strapped to the bed?”
“It’s for his own safety. Ethan fought the sedation, but he needed to stay still to heal. Apparently it took three nurses and a doctor to finally secure and settle him.” He releases a strained chuckle. “Ethan’s a fighter even in an unconscious state.”
I can’t form a response; my chest hurts too much.
A warm hand covers mine. “Breathe, Nara. He’s going to be okay.”
Uncurling my fingers from his coat sleeve, I smooth out the wrinkles and take a couple of deep breaths. I didn’t even realize I’d grabbed him. “Sorry.”
Samson squeezes my hand, then uses his hold to pull me forward toward the bed. He nods to Ethan. “Talk to him. They claim he can hear us.” A remorseful look crosses his face. “I kind of hope he didn’t hear everything I’ve said to him. Some of it was pretty harsh.”
I move to the side of the bed, then glance up when I see his brother opening the room door. “Where are you going?”
He lifts his phone up. “To check in with work and let them know I’m taking a few days off. Be back in a few.”
Nodding, I wait for the door to close before I move closer and clutch the covers next to Ethan’s hand, my whole body trembling. I’m afraid to touch him. I’m convinced I’ll fall apart if I do. “What happened?” I ask, my gaze traveling over his battered face.
Nothing.
Maybe he just needs me to talk to him. Taking a deep breath, I say, “I was worried something might not be right when my dreams came back so quickly after you left on Sunday. You know how it usually takes a couple of days of being away from you before your ability to take my dreams wears off? Well, this time they came back right away. What’s weird is that I didn’t start dreaming about my entire next day again like I usually do—er, which kind of makes it easy not to piss Fate off, since I can’t meddle in what I haven’t seen yet. You’d be thrilled at that.” I snort, knowing how much Ethan hates that I’ve challenged Fate enough times in the past to garner the vaporous entity’s cold, vengeful hatred. “Do you know what kind of dreams I’ve had instead?” Leaning close to his ear, I whisper, “Normal people dreams.” I quickly straighten to watch his face, hoping that revelation would evoke some kind of response.
He’s so still. I swallow back the sob rising in my chest, but I can’t resist any longer. I reach over to brush his hair with my fingers. “I’ll stop rambling now. I just wanted you to know I’m here. Just get better, Ethan.” Please, please get better.
“Hello?” a voice calls from across the room, sounding surprised.
An attractive blond woman in a navy designer dress and cashmere coat slung over her arm stands in the doorway with a questioning smile. A dark-haired man moves from behind her, his brow furrowed. “Who are you?” he demands.
The man has Ethan’s intense deep blue eyes. And the woman’s smile is definitely Samson’s. I slide my hands into my hoodie pockets and offer a shaky smile. “I’m Nara Collins, a friend of Ethan’s. You must be his parents.”
“We were told no outside visitors.” While Mr. Harris speaks, his wife quickly moves to the other side of the bed and touches her son’s forehead, murmuring his name. Ethan’s father takes up residence at the end of the bed, an unfriendly look pulling on his mouth. “How did you get in here?”
His brusqueness makes me tense. I start to speak when Samson says from the doorway, “She’s here because I brought her, Dad. Stop being a jerk.”
Mr. Harris stiffens his overcoat-clad shoulders and shoves his hands in his trouser pockets, cutting a narrowed gaze to Samson. “I’m tired and not happy you waited as long as you did to call us. We’ve driven all night. Go get the doctor. I want to hear his prognosis.”
“He’s doing rounds and said he’d check in soon,” Samson says, folding his arms over his thin light blue sweater. “Do you have any idea why Ethan would’ve gone to D.C. after leaving Michigan?”
Ethan’s mother gasps, her gaze watering as her pale blue eyes lock on Sams
on. “He was in Michigan? Why didn’t he come see us?”
Samson’s arms fall to his side, confusion flickering as he glances at Ethan, then back to his mom. “He’s been in Michigan with you two this past month.”
“No, he hasn’t,” Ethan’s father bellows. “A whole damned month?”
“Gerald—” his mother hisses. “Keep your voice down.”
“The hell I will. What in God’s name is going on, Samson?” He drills a furious gaze on his oldest son, hands balled into fists by his sides. “You’re supposed to be his guardian. You, who claimed you’d do a better job raising him than us.”
“He’s been calling me from Michigan. At least that’s what he told me.” Samson looks so betrayed and bewildered, my heart aches for him.
My gaze slips back to Ethan, stomach pitching. Ethan has been lying to me this whole time too. I glance at his slack features, seeking answers. Where have you been?
“That’s it. As soon as Ethan’s better, he’s coming back to Michigan.”
Samson’s shoulders snap back and he gets right in his father’s face. “No, he won’t.”
Ethan’s mother squeezes Ethan’s hand, looking worried and a bit righteous. “This wouldn’t have happened under our watch, Samson. There are other treatments—”
“Screw your treatments, Mom.” Samson rounds on her, his shoulders stiff. “Ethan didn’t want me to tell you he’d gotten his act together. Turning a blind eye the way you did, that’s how bad you’ve both hurt him. You don’t know him at all.”
“Does he look ‘together’ to you?” Gerald slices his hand toward the bed, brows pulled together. “We see how well you know your brother.”
“Stop it!” I snap, fury rising inside me as my gaze locks on the red scar along Ethan’s neck—a lingering reminder he’d tried to commit suicide when he was still living with his parents. No matter how upset I am with Ethan, he doesn’t deserve this. His family turns to me, eyes wide, but I’m past the point of caring what they think about me.
Destiny, YA Paranormal Romance (Brightest Kind of Darkness Series, Book #3) Page 1
