The Complete Tempted Series

by Selene Charles

  Last night had been a nightmare, a terrible memory that she wanted to forget. But Cain had held her, he’d rocked her, and he’d let her cry. Let her be sad, and she would be forever grateful to him for that.

  Her mom had told her once when she was a very little girl that her heart was a lock. Men would come and they would go, and she’d be happy and sometimes sad, but she could make a good life with any of them. But only one man would be the key that unlocked her soul.

  Rubbing her nose along Cain’s morning-bearded cheek, and with fingers grown numb as she fully realized just who he was to her, she hoped that somehow, somewhere, her mother could see. Could know and see the truth too.

  Aware of the time and stomach growling fiercely, she made to slip away. But his hand was rough as he gripped her tight.

  Flint sucked in a breath at the sharp blue of his piercing gaze.

  “I love you too.”

  The words trembled through the air with a heavy weight of truth behind them.

  Biting down on her lip, the impulse was to fling herself at him. But instead she yanked her hand out of his and ran to the bathroom to change. Slamming the door behind her, she fought for breath. She braced her arms above her head and laid her head on the door.

  Abel came above everything else.

  She was a fae with no training.

  Layla was still out there. Still plotting.

  All those thoughts ran amok through her mind, but the loudest one was purely selfish.

  She was a virgin. But was Cain? He was nineteen; he’d probably had sex before. She was crazy to think she’d be his first.

  The thought hurt her and then freaked her out.

  By the time she finally finished getting ready and exited the bathroom, he was gone. The bed made, all traces of him vanished as though he’d never been there. Except for his scent, which lingered everywhere.

  A hard knock at the door startled Flint, and she spun on her socked feet, eyes going wide.

  Grace’s head poked inside. “Knock knock.”

  Letting go of a quivery breath, she clutched at her chest, which felt as though it were galloping ten miles a minute. “Nana? What are you… what are you doing here?”

  Glancing down at the bed, then up at Flint, her grandmother’s owl eyes turned soft and knowing. “So it’s like that, eh?”

  There was a smile on her face and no judgment in her words, but Flint still frowned.

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  It was odd to speak to her grandmother now—they’d not gotten a chance to speak after what’d gone down yesterday.

  Closing the door softly behind her, Grace stepped inside. There was a dark spill of cloth hanging over her arm.

  “Slight change in plan. Adam’s disbanding most of the circus for now. Crews are leaving even as we speak, but just to be safe, I came with this.”

  She held up the fabric, which Flint now noticed was actually a floor-length cloak with a heavy hood.

  “What?” Flint ran to her window, stunned to see a line of trailers moving out the gates of Diabolique. “Where are we going?”

  “We arna going anywhere.” Grace shook her head and set the cloak down on the bed, then walked over to Flint’s kitchen and grabbed a coffeepot before filling it with water.

  Sick to her stomach, Flint tried to run for the front door. She had to find Cain. Had to—

  “Flint. Stop. He’s not gone, nor will he be.”

  “Who? Cain?” she asked with her heart trapped in her throat.

  Grace nodded, pouring the water into the coffeemaker before she began rifling through drawers. “Aye, Cain. The bond between you two is far too great to risk a separation. Cain has not bonded to you as yet; without that bond he’s as unstable as a keg of dynamite. Bloody hell,” she groused, slamming the drawer closed. “Where do you keep the coffee grounds, git?”

  “I don’t. I just go to cook’s trailer.”

  With a glower that looked positively murderous, Grace curled her upper lip. “Cook’s gone, along with most of the circus at this point.”

  “Where are they going?” And most importantly, why.

  “Adam’s called in some favors from sister circuses to divide his people until the time comes that they can once more safely regroup.”

  She shook her head. “But why? Why is he doing this?”

  Grace sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, and her eyes grew distant. Flint knew the answer immediately.

  “My dad, because of what he did yesterday?” The tears she thought herself no longer capable of crying lumped in her throat.

  “That. And other things. Tempers are a spark away from igniting. After two weeks, it’s now safe to say that Layla isn’t here. Staying put any longer only paints a bull’s-eye on our backs.”

  “Who’s staying behind?”

  “Only those who now know about you. And Janet of course, since it’s not safe to move her. Easier to hide and keep you hidden until you come fully into your own.”

  She wrung her hands. “My dad?”

  “He’s going too, but he wants to see ya.” Grace pointed to the robe lying beside her. “Put that on, and we’ll go out there.”

  She shook her head. “Tell me the truth—is this really about Layla, or is this about protecting my identity? Because I’ll go. Take me to the caves, or whatever you have to do, but I can’t be responsible for—”

  Flint hadn’t realized she’d been walking toward her grandmother until Grace grasped her hand.

  “Nay, lass. It’s much more than just you.” She sighed, glancing off to the right, her gaze faraway as she said, “Janet is failing. Adam canna focus on her while also being responsible for running what has now turned into a charade.”

  “Yeah, but the circus was our reason for staying behind so that we could continue to hunt.”

  “The hunt ends. It has been fruitless and a distraction planned by the queen no doubt.”

  The pit of Flint’s stomach churned as the memory of last night came immediately to the forefront of her mind. That dream that the hooded fae had shown her. She could rip into the drone’s mind that way. She knew it, felt the tingling sparks of her energy roll through her blood, hot and ancient.

  She was coming alive. Becoming more. She sensed it, felt it in every woven thread of her inner core.

  Grace continued talking, unaware of Flint’s epiphany.

  “We’re going to regroup, try to find the lost trail that will lead us to her and—”

  “Nana.” She looked up. “I think I might know how.”

  Grace frowned. “How, lass?”

  “The visions I’ve been having. I don’t know how or who, but someone is teaching me things. About me, about what I can do, and I think…” She bit down on the inside of her cheek, feeling suddenly silly as she voiced her suspicions.

  “What, girl? You think what? Spill it.”

  Grace didn’t sound in the least bit like she didn’t believe Flint. In fact, it was just the opposite.

  She shook her head, feeling stupid but saying it all the same. “I think maybe I know how to make it talk. Cain doesn’t want me to do it because he’s afraid that the drone will hurt me in some way, but I swear to you I can—”

  Grace stood, moving with the sprightliness of youth as excitement visibly shone through her wrinkled countenance. “Then you do it, tonight. After we’ve all gone, gather your remaining forces, and we end this, Flint. We end this.”

  Feeling a bubble of excitement mixed with a heaping dose of anxiety, she shook her head. Maybe she could be helpful; maybe she could be the key to unlocking where Abel actually was.

  At the door now, Grace said, “Put on the robe, lass, and be quick about it. Frank and I leave soon.”

  And with those words, Grace exited the trailer.

  Fingers trembling with more than just nerves, Flint shrugged the voluminous robe on, slipped on a pair of sneakers, and followed Grace out the door.

  Her father waited below, and he was wringing his ha
nds. He’d shaved, washed, and dressed in faded jeans and a loose-fitting shirt. He didn’t at all resemble the madman from yesterday.

  “I’m leaving.” He said it softly, glancing down at his feet.

  Inside the heavy folds, she’d hoped her magick might have been dulled enough where his fear of her would be gone. But judging by the way he trembled, the way the whites of his eyes grew increasingly larger and how often he swallowed, she knew nothing had changed.

  “Daddy,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  Nostrils flaring, he whipped his head up. Not looking at her eyes, his gaze was fixed firmly at the point of her neck. “You never apologize, Flinty. Never. It kills me that I can’t control who I am when I’m around you. You’re my daughter. The greatest love of my life.”

  His voice shook, and it was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms.

  “I’m going to learn to control this. I’m going to get better for you.”

  “No,” he snarled.

  And for a horrible second, she feared that he was about to snap again.

  As though by magic, Rhiannon appeared at their side, Katy not a footstep behind her, both of them alert and ready to yank Frank away.

  He shook his head. “You don’t ever change for anybody else, not even me, baby girl. You get better for you.”

  A tear ran hot and thick out of her eye, momentarily blinding her. “Where are you going?” Her voice cracked.

  His smile grew lopsided. “Adam was kind enough to give us several options. I’m thinking New York.”

  He might not be able to see her under the hood, but her smile was watery. “You always did want to see the Big Apple.”

  Frank shrugged. “I just wanted you to know, Flinty, I didn’t mean those things I said.”

  He was gritting out the words, as though forcing them out. She saw the struggle—it was a relief knowing that all the horrible things that’d happened between them lately hadn’t been because of her or Katy’s influence at all, but rather due to an ancient magick out of her control. It was horrible losing her father, but at the same time, there was hope that down the road things would work themselves out between them.

  “I love you.”

  He sniffed, nodding swiftly. “And I’ll always love you, my little monkey.”

  Then, taking a step forward, he yanked her into his strong arms, and she melted against him for just a second, wishing he didn’t have to leave, wishing none of this had ever happened to them.

  He began to squeeze tighter, his breath hitching, and Flint palmed his chest, ready to fling him back. But Rhiannon beat her to it.

  “Mr. DeLuca,” the kanlungan said softly but with a clear thread of steel to her words.

  With a grunt, her father turned on his heel and marched away from her. Flint could only stare with tears rolling down her cheeks as Katy threaded her arm through his, and with one final glance back in her direction, they were lost within the thick crush of the moving crowd.

  And for just a moment the people parted, and Flint’s tears spilled even harder when she spotted Eli and Carlito hugging their good-byes.

  Flint’s mood was sour when she walked into the training tent, but her foul mood turned suddenly cautious when she spotted both Cain and Adam standing at the center of the ring. In Adam’s hand was a wicked longsword that easily looked half his length, if not a little longer.

  Her pulse fluttered, and her palms grew moist.

  Cain’s jaw flexed as she drew nearer to them. In his hand he held another sword. Not quite as long as Adam’s, this one was narrower as well.

  She swallowed hard when she came to a stop.

  “Flint.” Cain said her name tentatively.

  Her hands lifted to the hood, snatching it back. She felt suddenly stupid in the dumb thing and she yanked it off, tossing it to the ground at her feet.

  “Everyone’s leaving,” she said. She wasn’t even sure why those had been the first words out of her mouth.

  Adam nodded.

  But it was Cain who spoke up. “After what happened yesterday with Frank, we could no longer take the risk of anyone else being exposed to you.”

  She winced at his words, tempted to snatch her elbow out of his grip when he came to her.

  “You know that’s not what I mean,” he said beneath his breath, touching her cheek with his fingers.

  Jutting out her jaw, cranky, but also knowing he had a point, she hissed, “Did you know last night this was gonna happen?”

  Flint hadn’t realized just how angry she was about her father being cast out until just now. But if Cain had known and he hadn’t told her, she’d rip him a new one. She was tired of being treated like a fragile piece of porcelain. He’d snuck away when she’d gone to the bathroom; it was possible he’d planned to distract her.

  But even as she thought it, she wasn’t completely able to accept that as fact. Cain had always been honest with her, even when he’d been pushing her away. The timing of it all was just hard for her to reconcile.

  “No,” he said, his gaze level . “I didn’t.”

  “Cain didn’t know. In fact, no one did.” Adam spoke up, his deep voice snaring her attention. “Flint, you are a threat to those around you. But more than that, I’ve come to terms with the fact that the queen is no longer here. It only made sense to keep as many of my people—to include your father—out of harm’s reach.”

  The fire in her died. He was right. Of course he was right. She sighed.

  Kissing her brow, Cain handed her the sword. “It’s very sharp, be careful with it.”

  She frowned, awed by just how light it felt in her hands. Clenching her fingers a couple of times to get a feel for the weapon, she was surprised at how sure she felt holding it.

  “It’s been years since I’ve drawn a sword,” Adam drawled, tilting his blade as he admired its razor-sharp edges.

  “I told him about your dream. Considering all the swordsmen left this morning, Adam’s the best we’ve got left.”

  So her teacher for the day would be none other than Adam. Mounting frustrations from the past few days mingled with a deep-rooted surety that she’d finally found her skill set and made Flint excited and jittery.

  And then everything happened all at once. Cain stepped back and Adam moved in, swinging his sword in a broad arc.

  Flint waited for that surge of power to come over her as it had with Bruce, but there was a yawning chasm of nothing. She had just enough time to pivot and throw her own sword up as a sort of shield.

  The strength with which their swords collided was an immediate shock, numbing her from her wrist to the tips of her fingers. The sword clattered at her feet.

  But rather than stopping to let her pick it up, Adam whirled behind her, and from her periphery she caught the motion of his arm once again swinging toward her.

  Cain roared. Her heart rate spiked, her pulse sounded like thunder in her ears, and time literally seemed to slow to a crawl just as it had the day the royal guard had come at her.

  Flint wasn’t thinking, she was barely even conscious of what she was doing. She moved beneath his arm, causing Adam to slice down a fraction of a second after she’d vacated the spot. The movement of displaced air blew like a puff against her back.

  Her tattooed arm tingled, and a sudden burst of power exploded from inside her. Vines crawled like slithering snakes around Adam’s feet, tripping him to the ground. A funnel of wind, more powerful than a cyclone, whipped up dirt and debris. But she barely felt it, and when she came to stand over his now-prostrate body, she gripped the silver-winged hilt of her sword.

  “Submit.” The voice, her voice, sounded ancient and shivered with the raw tempest of primal magick.

  Adam’s starry gaze sparkled, and a huge grin parted his lips. Pride beamed from his features, and suddenly she grew aware of what she’d done.

  Of what she was doing. Of how she must look with the strands of her hair whipping around her face like charmed snakes. The vines. The wind. Th
e hum of crystal prickling through her very bones.

  Her feet were like divining rods, sucking up the unseen power rippling from the ground beneath. She was connected to and part of the very fabric of nature, the wild call of magick far greater than anything she’d ever known.

  But Adam didn’t stay down long. He was a greed demon and his need to win, to trounce her, flamed through his eyes.

  Flint’s arm never tired as she parried him thrust for thrust, her body an instrument of instinct and reflex. She had no idea how long they battled.

  At first they were nearly even in strength and speed. She’d do something to swipe his feet out and toss him down, but he was equally as able to do the same to her.

  He thrust, she parried. She thrust and he parried. One would advance and then the other. Flint lost track of time, of Cain’s presence, of everything but Adam.

  And at some point, without her even realizing it, the balance tipped in her favor. Soon she was constantly the aggressor, forcing Adam back on his heels, forcing him to exert more and more energy just to keep his balance.

  She was a third of his size, but her blows were powerful, running like a shockwave up her own arm when their swords collided. And when his strength seemed to begin to finally waver, her will had only grown more determined, stronger.

  Gleaming with sweat and high on adrenaline, she laughed jubilantly when the next time he dropped to his knees he didn’t get back up.

  Adam’s breathing had grown ragged, his chest heaving up and down almost violently. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat, his dark shirt clinging to his body as though he’d just stepped out of a shower.

  He shook his head as his starlit eyes sparkled with avarice.

  Then Cain was beside her, reaching for her hand, and suddenly her sword was gone, vanished back into the ether from which it’d come. But she knew that if she ever needed it again, it would come back for her.

  She tried to brush him off when he moved in for a hug. “Cain, I’m sweaty,” she groaned, slightly embarrassed by it but also leaning heavily into his chest as aches and pains she’d not felt earlier suddenly made themselves known in a very real way.