Incipient: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Marked Book 6)

by Bianca Scardoni

  “I need a favor.”

  “You guys coming?” called Carly, noticing we weren’t behind them anymore.

  “Go ahead. We’ll meet you outside,” answered Caleb as I forced a smile. As soon as the three of them left the meeting hall, he turned his curious eyes back on me. “What kind of a favor?”

  “I need you to work a spell for me,” I whispered and then casually tossed my hair over my shoulder, exposing my bandaged neck. “A healing spell.”

  His eyebrows knitted as his gaze moved to my neck and then back to my eyes. “What happened?”

  “Hazards of the job. It’s nothing I can’t handle,” I lied evenly. “I’m just sick of wearing this thing on my neck. I look ridiculous,” I said with a laugh, trying to play up the whole vanity angle. “Do you think you can help a girl out?”

  He studied me for a moment and then nodded. “It’s an easy spell.”

  “Great…what are the chances of being able to use this spell on myself at a later time. Like, as needed?” It was a longshot, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.

  “Well, you’re not a Caster so you can’t actually do magic,” he pointed out, his eyes thoughtful. “But I can probably put a spell together for you and tie it to a talisman.”

  My eyes lit up. “And it would automatically heal me?”

  “Well, no. You’d need to say a short incantation while holding the talisman for it to work. And it won’t do anything for substantial injuries either.”

  “So, if I get impaled and my guts spill out, it’s not going to fix that, right?” I asked teasingly.

  “Definitely not.”

  “Noted.” I bounced on my toes. “So, how long will it take you to work the spell?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Fifteen minutes. I can use the Lab downstairs. Do you have anything for the talisman?” he asked and then zeroed in on the bangle I was wearing on my wrist. “How about that?”

  I slid it off my hand and then handed it over to him. “Anything else?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head and then winked smugly. “Just got to work my magic on it.”

  32. BABY IN BLUE JEANS

  Caleb delivered as promised. After a grueling twenty-minute stretch of party talk and Halloween hoopla that continued well into the parking lot, I’d finally managed to slip away from the group and escape into my car, talisman in hand. Or around wrist, I should say.

  While I felt bad for declining their invitation to join them for a late-night bite, my mind and heart just wasn’t in it. For one, I had yet to recover from my encounter with Dominic in the woods and secondly, I couldn’t stop thinking about Trace and wondering where the hell he was or why he hadn’t answered any of my messages or calls. It had been hours since I’d last heard from him and it wasn’t like him to not answer me.

  The longer time dragged on, the more frayed my nerves became.

  If he was at All Saints doing paperwork, then why hadn’t he bothered to call me? Unless, he decided to go have that talk with Nikki after all, though that didn’t seem very plausible since he would have at the very least texted me to let me know he wasn’t going to meet up with me like we’d planned.

  None of this was sitting well with me. Unable to stomach the uncertainty a moment longer, I abruptly steered off the highway and headed straight for Nikki’s house.

  Not in a stalker kind of way, though.

  In a worried-for-your-friend kind of way.

  To my utter relief, his car was nowhere in sight, though my relief was short-lived after I passed by All Saints and didn’t find his car there either. Maybe he’d gone home and fallen asleep after finishing up his work at All Saints and accidently slept through the meeting at Temple? It would certainly explain why he hadn’t called me or answered any of my messages.

  As much as I wanted to hope for the best, I couldn’t shake away the awful feeling of dread from slipping into the pit of my stomach and burrowing in as I jumped back on the highway and headed for Trace’s.

  Less than ten minutes later, I parked my car in the empty driveway and then let myself inside with the spare key Trace had given me. I was still holding onto the hope that maybe he was home and had simply parked his car in the garage, but after stepping into the darkened, lifeless house, all remaining hope had finally evaporated.

  Where the hell was he?

  This wasn’t like him. What if something awful happened? What if he’d gotten in an accident? What if he’d gone to see Nikki after all and his mind imploded on itself from the barrel of lies she’d undoubtably dumped on him?

  Stop panicking, Jemma. You’re spiraling!

  Realizing that I was spiraling and that sitting around waiting as I concocted a bunch of what-if scenarios in my head was very counterproductive, I instead decided to jump into the shower and attempt to wash away the vile day from my skin as I waited. I’d doubted that a bar of soap was going to be enough to erase what had happened with Dominic earlier, but I was certainly going to try.

  After scrubbing my body until it was raw and red, I stepped out of the shower and made my way to the vanity. I’d only been able to do a half-assed job of cleaning up my latest neck wound at the service station with whatever I’d had in my purse, so I already knew it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight…

  But I winced at the gaping hole, nonetheless.

  It occurred to me that Dominic’s bites were getting worse with every attack, and not better. My heart sank as it became painfully clear that I was making zero progress in regard to turning his emotions back on. At least I wasn’t going to have to continuously keep sporting those reminders anymore.

  Sliding off my bracelet, I held it in my hand and then scowled at it. I really didn’t want to utter the incantation that Caleb had charmed the bracelet with, but I needed the reminder gone more than I needed my pride.

  Tightening my hold on the silver bangle, I muttered the idiotic words:

  “Caleb Owens is a god.”

  Cursing under my breath, I looked up at myself through the mirror as a warm tingling sensation coasted over my neck. I could see the faint glow of magic shimmering over my skin as tissue and flesh drew closer together before finally fusing shut. And just like that, my painful reminder was gone.

  Damn. The cocky little Caster really was a god.

  Signing in relief, I slipped the bangle back on and then finished the rest of my routine before making my way downstairs again. To my dismay, the foyer and hallway were both still dark and eerily quiet with no sign of Trace anywhere.

  Needing to stay busy, I headed for the kitchen to fix myself something to eat while I continued to wait for him. I highly doubted I would be able to eat anything with my lack of appetite and how knotted my stomach had become, but I wasn’t sure what else to do with myself.

  Passing the living room, something snagged my attention from my peripheral. I turned and then gasped at the sight of a silhouette sitting on the corner sofa. It took my pounding heart and my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness and realize it was Trace and not the twisted angel from my nightmares.

  Relief flooded my body just then, but it was doomed to be short lived.

  “Jesus, Trace. Where were you?” I asked as I rushed into the room and then stopped short a few feet away from him. He was sitting on the sofa in the dark, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees and an open bottle of booze dangling from his fingers. “I was…worried about…you,” I finished weakly, my heartrate picking up speed as I took in his defeated slump of his shoulders and the fact that he still hadn’t bothered to turn and look at me.

  “Nikki stopped by All Saints,” he said as he brought the half-empty bottle of what looked to be vodka to his lips and took a painfully long swig.

  Everything in my body turned to ice as I stood there and stared at him, eyes wide, mouth gaping, heart thundering in my chest. The knot in my throat made it almost impossible to speak—to ask the question that needed asking. Because I didn’t want to know the answer. I didn’t want to feel th
e inevitable blowback that was undoubtably coming my way.

  But I knew I had to.

  “W-what did she say?” I stammered, unable to even think straight let alone speak properly.

  The seconds ticked away unbearably slow as I waited for him to say something. Anything.

  “Trace…?”

  “She’s pregnant,” he answered, his eyes fixed forward to the open window as though he were too stunned to do anything but stare straight ahead.

  33. NO ORDINARY LOVE

  My breath caught in my throat as icy dread hit me, cementing my feet to the ground. I was so not prepared for this. I’d spent way too much time hoping and praying that Nikki would come to her senses and keep her lying mouth shut that I’d forgotten to plan ahead in the event that she didn’t.

  “She said it’s mine,” said Trace, his voice somber as he continued staring forward. “But I don’t even remember being with her. I don’t remember…” He shook his head as though the rest of that thought had abandoned him right along with his memory of that supposed night.

  “Did she say…anything else?” I asked, my nails digging into my palms as I curled my hands into fists.

  He looked over at me, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Isn’t that enough?”

  I lowered my head and pressed my lips together. Panic and fear flooded my system as the room tilted on me. I had no idea how to fix this—how to make this go away without revealing the parts of our past that were so dangerous to him. I was going to need to walk the thinnest of lines. Any slight move in the wrong direction could send him spiraling.

  “What did you say to her?” I finally asked, wanting to keep him talking without tipping him off.

  “I asked her for a paternity test,” he said, his face an unreadable canvas.

  My eyes widened in surprise. “Did she agree?” I asked and then took a step forward. Frankly, I was dying to hear how she was going to snake her way out of this one.

  “Yeah, she said she’d give me one,” he answered evenly, his forlorn eyes filled with so much grief and confusion. “Then she slapped me in the face.” He brought the bottle to his lips and took another sip.

  She agreed to a paternity test?

  A new level of panic seeped into my body. Why would she agree to do the test when we all knew it would show that Trace was not the father? Did she know something the rest of us didn’t, or was she really that delusional?

  What if the baby did have some of Trace’s DNA since it was Trace’s body that Lucifer was using as the vessel?

  No, that’s dumb, I told myself.

  It was already clear to everyone that Nikki’s baby was a descendant of Lucifer, and not Trace. Hence the Horsemen. Plus, we all knew how the whole demon-reproducing thing worked anyway, and this was no different from that, so unless she was planning on doctoring the results of the test in order to trick him into believing it was his, we had nothing to worry about.

  Then again, she definitely had the ability and lack of integrity to do the latter, and that was before she was carrying Lucifer’s spawn in her belly which would probably corrupt even the saintliest of people.

  “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, drawing me back to the present. Everything about him looked broken and defeated and it made my heart ache for him.

  Wanting to comfort him, to be near him, I moved to the sofa to sit next to him, but he quickly hopped up on his feet as though he couldn’t stand to be close to me.

  My heart splintered as I watched him move to the window and rest his forearm against the frame. Taking an extra-long sip from his bottle, he stared out into the empty street as though he had the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. I imagined in the moment, he did.

  “You should go to bed,” he said without meeting my eyes. “I need to clear my head.”

  “I’m not leaving you like this.”

  He puffed out a humorless laugh and shook his head. “This isn’t your problem, Jemma.”

  “It isn’t yours either. She’s lying,” I blurted out and then slammed my mouth shut, unsure of how I was going to follow up such a loaded statement. “I mean, she has to be.”

  He didn’t flinch. “I saw her. She’s pregnant,” he said definitively.

  As weary as I was about how much I could share with him, I knew I couldn’t stay silent on this either. Not about this. She was wreaking him, wholly and completely, and I refused to let her get away with it.

  “Fine, she’s pregnant, but it’s not yours. It can’t be,” I said as I ventured closer to him like I couldn’t stand to be away. “The timeline doesn’t match—she’s too far along,” I offered, feeling it was safe to point that out without having to spill the entire truth. “And—”

  His glassy sapphire eyes burned through the darkness to meet mine.

  “And we would’ve been together at that time. You wouldn’t have cheated on me.”

  He stared back at me, as though trying to siphon the past from my eyes; to be able to see us as we once were. It speared my heart to know that all the good parts had been wiped out from his memory right along with the bad ones.

  “She’s using the fact that you can’t remember the past against you.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long time, and I wished for the hundredth time that day that I could know his thoughts the way he always seemed to know mine.

  He leaned his back against the wall and met my gaze, his eyes searching. “What if it is mine?” he asked softly.

  “It’s not,” I insisted with the kind of confidence I should not have had on a matter in which I was supposed to know nothing about.

  “But what if it is? What does that mean for us?” he asked, his face a blank canvas of emotion. He may as well have been written entirely in a foreign language.

  “It wouldn’t change anything,” I said, answering his hypothetical honestly. The truth was, I had no intention of letting anyone get in between me and Trace again. Not this time. And definitely not Nikki. “I mean, not unless you’d want it to.”

  “So, I should just ruin your life then?” he asked, darkness riding his tone. “Make this your problem too?”

  I erased the gap between us. “You could never ruin my life, Trace. You’ve only ever made it better.”

  He stared down at me for moment, his eyes seemingly softening before closing off to me once again. “Yeah, well the night’s still young,” he said and then tried to bring the bottle up to his lips, but I threw my hand out and stopped him, slowly forcing it back down to his side.

  “Don’t do that.”

  He looked down at me with hooded eyes. “Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t try to push me away.”

  Another sardonic rumble from his chest. “You should be running for the hills right now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Yeah? And why’s that?” he asked, crowding my space with his body.

  “Because I—” Pressing against him, I bit down on my lip to stop myself from saying too much—from uttering the words I knew could ruin us. Because once I said them, once I admitted it out loud, there would be no going back.

  “Because you what?” he asked, lowering his head to mine.

  His wanting eyes fell to my mouth and my stomach coiled.

  “You know why,” I whispered breathlessly as I lifted on my toes and brought my lips dangerously close to his.

  His jaw tensed as he hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me against his body, his palm splayed against my back. His eyes searching mine as though they held the answers to every mystery in the world.

  My body responded to him—to every look, and every subtle touch—humming and trilling against his body as I wrapped my arms around his neck and greedily filled my need to touch him.

  He cursed under his breath and then his lips were on mine.

  The bottle dropped from his other hand, clanking against the hardwood floor as he planted both palms under my ass and lifted me into his arms. In one fluid move, my back was pinne
d against the wall as he deepened the kiss. A burning fever washed over me as he slid his tongue into my mouth and groaned, the hunger and heat rolling off him in tangible waves that melded with my own, making it impossible to know where one ended and the other started.

  There was something entirely feral about his kiss, his touch, the way he pulled back just enough to reach down and rip my tank top off—it was demanding and needy and explicit, and every inch of me was responding to it as his equal.

  Letting go of my legs, he dropped me back down to my feet. Before I could protest, he yanked my pants and underwear down, ripping them off my ankles and then hoisting me back into his arms. The rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against me as he grabbed the back of his own shirt and then pulled it off. My fingers dug into his chest, wanting to feel every muscle and ridge as his mouth collided with mine again.

  Perfectly carved muscles flexed under my palm as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zipper down. The sound of it made my thighs clench with anticipation. Within seconds he was inside me, digging his fingers into my hips as he brought his other hand to my jaw, tilting my head up so that he could sweep his tongue against mine at just the right angle. There was a rawness to his need that made my body sing in response and all rational thought left me, leaving nothing but that unquenchable desire smoldering between us.

  The incessant need to be with him, to have him inside me, was the only thing that mattered now, despite the raging inferno that was quickly spreading around us like wildfire.

  “I love you, Jemma,” he whispered huskily as he slid both hands under my thighs, driving my legs further apart with his forearms. “I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you.”

  An appreciative moan escaped my lips as he crashed harder against me.

  “And I’ve loved you every moment after that,” he went on as he captured my bottom lip between his teeth and nipped it.

  I whimpered against the sensation, trapping the sound behind my lips.

  “Are you still in love with me?” he asked, his voice strained, and his breathing labored.