Emanare (Destined, #1)

by Browning, Taryn

  EMANARE

  Taryn Browning

  OTHER BOOKS BY TARYN BROWNING:

  Dark Seeker

  Dark Beauty (Seeker Novella)

  Whispering Hills

  Copyright © 2012 by Taryn Browning

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  www.tarynbrowning.com

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, and place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  DEDICATION

  For my wonderful & supportive husband, two beautiful boys, and amazing family & friends.

  Thank you for your ongoing support. Without you, none of this would be possible.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am so happy to be able to share this story with you.

  Thank you to my husband, Keith. You are my first editor and biggest supporter. Also, to my two precious boys.

  Huge thanks to Christine Witthohn and the Book Cents peeps. Thank you to the YA blogging community for your reviews. Thanks to my friends and critique partners. Angie, this book wouldn’t be what it is today without your awesome feedback. Also, my fantastic editor, Catherine Van Herrin. Thank you Heather from SupaGurl Books for always cheering on my books and characters.

  None of this would be possible without the love and support of my parents, Ken & Sandie Hackman and Sheryl Morgan. You’ve always encouraged me to follow my dreams. Huge thanks to my sisters, Lauren and Kim for always being there for me. There are so many people who have influenced my writing. I am thankful for each and every one of you.

  And most of all, thanks to you for reading my book. I hope you enjoy.

  CHAPTER 1

  Samantha Campbell lifted her head up off the bar, swallowing back the urge to regurgitate the dining hall spaghetti. Her throat felt raw, and her tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth.

  She heard an incessant wailing with a painful rise in pitch. On instinct she covered her ears, thinking it was the cover band’s cheap version of an ‘80s rock ballad, but the sound grew louder, an internal screaming that threatened to burst her eardrums.

  She removed her hands from her ears and gripped the edge of the bar so tightly that her knuckles turned white, as she desperately tried to focus on something – anything – to retrieve some sense of clarity.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked. She gazed at the spiky fingers of his Mohawk. His hair rose like a peacock’s fanned tail feathers in a gravity-defying straight line from the tip of his forehead to the nape of his neck, sprouting deep blues and greens, reds and golds.

  “Uh—water,” she rasped.

  The bartender slid a beer down the bar. Sam’s stomach lurched along with the undulating liquid as the amber waves splashed over the side of the frosted mug. Ignoring her nausea, she shifted her eyes to search for something recognizable to orient herself – where was she?

  “Sam—” a guy behind her said. He sounded anxious, out of breath.

  She whirled around on the bar stool, expecting to see her college roommates somewhere close by. But Lauren and Ann were nowhere in sight, and the voice calling her name definitely wasn’t familiar.

  Sam straightened her spine, trying to rationalize the situation. Maybe he’s not talking to me. Sam’s a common name. He could be talking to anyone, guy or girl.

  She nervously glanced from side to side as he quickly moved her way.

  Then, it was too late. The handsome guy with deep chestnut hair, perfectly chiseled cheekbones, and unusually bronzed skin for February in Baltimore, stood in front of her. His deep green eyes fixed on hers.

  “Sam, you’re okay,” he said with relief, running his hands up and down her arms. “Did he hurt you?” He clutched her at arm’s length to check her out. She blinked in shock.

  “What’s wrong?” He scanned the bar cautiously, casting his stare back on her wide brown eyes.

  With a nervous flick of her hand, Sam tucked a loose piece of her straight blond hair behind her ear. “Should I know you?”

  He paused, looking sincerely confused. “Sam, how can you not know me? I’m Evrik, your boyfriend—”

  “I think I would know my boyfriend,” she interrupted. Evrik grabbed her arm with enough force to lift her off the stool. He was much taller than Sam, six-foot-something to her five-six with heels. She had to arch her head back to look at his face.

  “We need to get you back to the house. I don’t know what happened to you, but Alea will be able to fix this.” Evrik tugged Sam toward the exit. Her boots stumbled across the floor as he weaved effortlessly through the crowd. A couple blocked the exit—a leggy brunette in a leather mini and stilettos making out with a tattooed biker.

  The brunette disentangled herself from the biker’s grasp and gazed at Evrik, catching a glimmer in his eyes. “I’m Angie,” she purred. She flashed Evrik a toothy-white smile, pushing her shoulders back to accentuate her already well-endowed chest.

  The biker cocked his arm but stopped just short of throwing a square punch to Evrik’s jaw when he, too, became entranced by Evrik’s green irises. He stepped aside robotically and let Evrik and Sam pass, appearing to be in some sort of trance.

  “Let go of me—now!” Sam circled her arm, attempting to break his grasp around her bicep – a maneuver she’d learned in a self-defense class. But Evrik only tightened his grip.

  “Sam, please stop resisting me. We’ll figure out what’s wrong with you. I can’t just leave you here. It’s not safe.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing wrong with me, other than I’m being dragged out of a bar by a lunatic. And no, I’m not safe. I’m being abducted, by you.”

  Evrik swung the heavy glass door open with one swift motion, propping it ajar with his foot as he hoisted her onto the sidewalk. The brisk winter air stung her flushed cheeks like needles. Droplets of sweat formed crystalline icicles across her back, and she coughed when the cool, stale smell of stagnant water rushed into her lungs. I’ve got to be near the inner harbor.

  “Is there a problem here?” A dark stranger approached from a narrow alleyway. At first, Sam could only make out his shadow under the streetlight. It stretched across the sidewalk, making him appear taller than he was.

  “This isn’t your concern.” Evrik dismissed the stranger. He seemed to have only one mission—to get her out of the bar.

  “Please help me. He won’t let go of me,” Sam pleaded.

  The stranger stepped out from the alley, exposing his face under a dimly lit lamppost. He was a foreboding figure, indeed, bathed in a faint yellow lagoon of light. He appeared to Sam to be in his early twenties. He had jet-black hair and a rugged jaw line, covered by a dark 5 o’clock shadow. His eyes were deep brown, almost black. They pierced through her as he spoke.

  “Everything will be okay.” Then he quickly switched his focus back to Evrik. “Let. Her. Go.” The stranger squared his shoulders, preparing for a fight, his black eyes flickering.

  “Look, man, there’s been a misunderstanding. This is my girlfriend. I’m just taking her home. She’s confused,” Evrik said steadily, staring just as sharply back at the stranger. Both men’s eyes bore into each other like two cowboys ready for a draw. Sam’s nails dug into her palms. Blood seeped from the half-moon incisions they left in her skin.

  Her eyes slid from the stranger to Evrik, who still had a firm grip on her arm. She should’ve felt fear, but his warm emerald eyes were oddly comforti
ng. Those momentary soothing feelings quickly shifted back to fear when Evrik’s eyes suddenly flashed a shadowy-silver color and his face hardened like marble, with not a wrinkle on his features.

  “Where’s Chase?” Evrik said under his breath.

  Who the hell is Chase? And what does he have to do with me? Remembering her phone, Sam used her free hand to rustle around in her purse—lip gloss, hairbrush, wallet, Ann’s hairspray—ah, finally. She gripped the familiar rectangular piece of plastic in both hands while Evrik held her arm in a vise-like grip. Scrolling over twenty missed calls—Evrik, Chase, Lauren, Ann, she found Lauren’s name and pushed send.

  Lauren answered on the first ring. “Sam, are you okay? Where the hell are you? It’s one in the morning!”

  “I don’t know. Hold on—” Focus, Sam. Her last real memory—finally. She was with her roommates at Claddagh Pub, a trendy uptown Irish bar on O’Donnell Street in the waterfront community of Canton.

  Clutching the phone between slippery fingers and an unsteady hand, she raised her eyes, searching for an external clue, any familiar landmark. Relieved and annoyed that she hadn’t thought of it earlier, she squinted to read a street sign—Eastern Avenue and Bond Street. She wasn’t far from her friends. Her senses were dead on. She was still near the water.

  “I’m next to the intersection of Eastern and Bond, in Fells Point. Lauren, come get me, and hurry—”

  Lauren clipped her words. “How did you get over there? Ann and I are getting in Ryan’s car now. We’ll be there soon.” Lauren spoke too fast for Sam to answer. Not that she’d know what to say.

  She slipped her phone back into her purse and heard a low, constant, reverberating growl, mimicking the sound of an idling engine. She froze. As her heart sprung up into her throat, she swore she saw a relieved smile flicker across Evrik’s face.

  A snarling pit bull emerged from the side of the brick building. Its ears had been clipped as if the dog had been trained to fight. Sam cowered behind Evrik as the pit bull approached with silent, stealthy movements across the concrete. Its muscles were tight, ready to spring, the hair along its spine standing on end. Sam frantically reached back into her purse, searching for the small travel-size bottle of aerosol hairspray she had been holding for Ann.

  “Chase,” Evrik said to the dog.

  Chase is an odd name for a pit bull, Sam thought. Cujo or Killer seemed more appropriate.

  “Sam doesn’t remember me. Something’s happened to her memory.” “Chase” nodded as if he understood what Evrik was saying.

  Evrik rolled his shoulders back, straightening his spine. Even while speaking to the dog, he never took his eyes off the stranger. He took confident steps forward, leaving Sam next to the angry pit bull. “Return from where you came.”

  An arrogant smirk crossed the stranger’s face.

  Seeing her chance to escape, Sam removed the hairspray from her purse. “Chase,” she whispered. The dog’s blue eyes snapped over to her. It cocked its head. Sam was shocked by the familiar security she felt in its crystal, sea-colored irises. She realized the pit bull had angled its body to form a barrier, separating her from the two guys to protect her.

  The moment ended. Sam was startled by the commotion in front of her. Her attention flew up to Evrik. She stumbled back as he lifted the stranger off the concrete by his throat. The stranger’s feet dangled above the sidewalk. Evrik grumbled something forceful into his ear. An impatient abrasiveness shot through his tone.

  The dog spun around, facing Sam. Teeth bared, it lunged forward. The heel of her boot caught in a crack in the sidewalk. Sam fought to keep her balance. She aimed the can of hairspray at the dog’s face, pushing down on the nozzle. A steady spray of sticky liquid droplets shot directly into the pit bull’s eyes.

  “Sam—wait, no!” Evrik said.

  She sprinted up the sidewalk, stretching her legs to span more ground. She heard a rapid panting close behind her. The dog’s claws scratched the concrete in pursuit. She realized the dog’s name, Chase, was fitting. Sam leaped off the curb into oncoming traffic. A taxi came straight at her, the driver blaring the horn as he barreled forward. Sam stood stunned, like the proverbial deer in the headlights, directly in the vehicle’s path.

  She thought if she jumped out of the way, to the opposite side of the road, she might be able to lose the dog. But when she turned to look, the dog was gone. Sam whirled back around. The scream of the taxi’s horn sounded in her ears, so close it was like it was on top of her. She threw her hands up in front of her face in an unconscious effort to lessen the impact.

  Out of nowhere, a guy wrapped his arms around her waist and tackled her to the ground, moving her out of the vehicle’s path a split-second before it squashed her into the pavement.

  “Crazy bitch!” the cab driver yelled out the window in passing.

  Sam blinked back tears. She lay on the cold asphalt, shaking in the strong, bare arms of yet another stranger. Shifting her eyes to meet the ocean blue eyes of her sandy-blond-haired rescuer, she gasped at how familiar he seemed.

  “Are you okay?” the blond stranger asked.

  Sam glanced down at his bare chest. “Where did you come from? And where are your clothes?” The guy’s muscular chest and tight washboard abs pressed firmly against her cotton blouse. His soft skin was a welcome relief from the rough, cold pavement beneath her.

  “I have clothes on. I’m wearing jeans,” he answered. “Let’s get out of the road.” She nodded. He extended his hand and pulled her up from the asphalt. She brushed the gravel off her favorite dark denim jeans and quickly inspected a scuff along the outside of her boot.

  With his arm affectionately wrapped around her waist, Sam’s cute blond rescuer helped her over to the sidewalk. She glanced back and noticed that Evrik and the dark stranger were gone. She didn’t know where they were, but she was relieved the altercation was over. She was no longer being chased by a pit bull and fought over by two guys she didn’t even know. Not that she knew her rescuer, either, but for some reason she felt safe with him. Maybe because he’d just saved her from the unfortunate fate of being flattened into a human – or not so human – pancake.

  Beep! Beep! Beep! Ryan’s car screeched to the curb. “Sam, Chase, get in,” Ann said, opening the door to the backseat of Ryan’s Infiniti. Ann slid across the black leather to the far left, behind Ryan, giving them room to sit.

  “What?” Sam looked at Ann quizzically. “Do you know him?” She glanced back at Chase. He shrugged his shoulders and beckoned her into the car with a wave.

  Sam squinted in bewilderment, teetering on the heel that was still on the ground.

  “Sam, are you drunk? That’s Chase, your best friend,” Ann said in her distinctive Long Island accent. “Will you just get in?”

  Chase nudged her with his knee, causing Sam to lose her balance and fall into the seat. He slid in next to her, shimmying her into the middle seat with his hip. She was packed like a sardine between her suitemate, Ann, who must have thought she was either drunk or crazy, and Chase, whom she still regarded as a stranger. Best friend or not, she had no recollection of this person’s existence. At the moment, “crazy” seemed like a viable option for her behavior. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. What is going on?—and his name—Chase, like the pit bull—seriously.

  “Dude, where’s your shirt?” Lauren’s boyfriend, Ryan, snickered from the driver’s seat.

  “I lost it,” Chase said. “I guess I had too much to drink.” He laughed the way guys laugh when they’re joking around with each other – that deep, throaty huh-huh laugh, peppered with a touch of sarcasm and not a sliver of embarrassment in his tone.

  Ryan returned Chase’s laugh, seemingly content with his lame answer. Sam sat in a daze, questioning everything – all she knew was, one second there was a dog chasing her and the next she was being snatched from impact with an oncoming taxi by a blond hunk wearing only jeans. It was like some twisted romance novel—Fabio Meets Cujo.

&
nbsp; Lauren turned around in the passenger seat and glared at Sam with her exotic part-Asian, brown eyes. “You scared the shit out of us. Why didn’t you tell us you were leaving? And how the hell did you get all the way over here?” Lauren stopped questioning Sam and shot Chase an irritated look. “And you...where did you come from?”

  Sam began, “Uh, I—I don’t know how—”

  Chase interrupted Sam’s stuttering. “Look. I went to Claddagh’s to find you guys and ran into Sam. I asked her to come with me to Fells Point to meet some of the guys from the team. We got lost trying to find The Green Turtle and ended up at some rock bar.” Chase let out a quick puff of air, resembling a laugh. “They let us in using our fakes.” He glanced over at Sam, who wasn’t amused. Her arms and legs were crossed in annoyance. “Then I went to the bathroom,” he continued. ”That’s when Sam called you to come get us.” The sincerity on his face and his nonchalant tone left no evidence of a lie.

  “Where’s your car? Why didn’t you just drive back to Canton?” Lauren said, eyeing Chase suspiciously.

  “I parked it in some parking lot near the water. With the drinking, I didn’t want to drive.”

  “Oh—” Lauren pondered Chase’s answer and then switched her glare back to Sam, still not satisfied. “But why didn’t you tell us you were leaving? We searched up and down the bars looking for you. We thought someone had abducted you.”

  “I think I was—” Chase placed his hand on Sam’s leg and squeezed it gently. Getting the hint, she followed suit, and lied. “Sorry, Lauren. I didn’t think we would be gone so long.” Sam turned to Ann, who tried to appear mad, but her freckled face betrayed her true feelings. She was just relieved Sam was okay. Her spiraling red curls framed her pale, circular face.

  “Sorry,” Sam said, smiling apologetically.