Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (213 page)

“
I’ll send the information
to Ian.”

“
And then?”

“
He’ll send the Guard
in.”

The Guard was made up with ten to
fifteen Kembers. Not just any Kembers. Wicked awesome ones who
could kill you with a flick of their fingers. I’d had the privilege
of meeting a few a couple years ago at a Kember graduation. They
worked just under the Authority. If a problem required brute
strength and mad skills, the Authority sent the Guard to
intervene.

“
Right now, they’re
searching for the Kember responsible for Delmari’s death. I’m sure
it wouldn’t be a problem to stop by Portland.”

I
flinched, a surge of anger breaking through. “Well, if you ask me,
they’re doing a piss poor job. It’s been weeks!
They’re just a bunch of idiots who don’t know what the hell
they’re doing.”

His jaw dropped a fraction. “You
shouldn’t talk like that.”

I scoffed, knowing he was right, but
too angry to admit it. “I can say whatever I want.”

His fists
tightened on the steering wheel. “I was a part of the Guard for six
years. It’s a lot of hard work and finding people—especially a
rogue Kember—takes time and
a lot
of patience.”

I froze, now feeling like a jackass.
“Oh, uh…” I searched quickly for a subject change. He’d told me he
was twenty-four. If he was in the guard for six years…“Does that
mean I’m your first Drea?”

“
Yes.” He didn’t say “yes”
in a good way, either.

“
Look.” I couldn’t believe
I actually felt bad about my comment. “I didn’t mean…I get angry
and…” I risked a glance at his stiffened posture and dropped the
subject.

Putting all differences aside, I had
to admit he was kind of helpful and pretty smart. Obviously. He’d
been part of the Guard. Enough said. That explained his respected
badass reputation. I was a little impressed. Unfriendly or not, you
had to respect a badass.

“
So…” I cleared my throat.
“About Portland?”

Chapter 10

The second we arrived back home, I
raced for the shower. No need to infect the house.

I had a hunch Aiden’s thoughts hadn’t
been far from mine. The ends of his wavy hair were still damp when
he stepped into the kitchen an hour later, wearing a fresh black
shirt and faded blue jeans.

He unwrapped a Hot Pocket and placed
it in the microwave.

Words—no—threats bubbled in my throat. I pressed my lips
together and turned back to my Pop-Tarts in the toaster.
I can do this.
I drummed
my nails on the countertop.

The Portland argument hadn’t ended in
my favor. I vowed to give him the silent treatment until he agreed
to take me. Childish? Maybe, but eventually he’d need me to
talk.

More time passed without him even
acknowledging me. Unintentionally, I tapped my foot on the floor,
breaking the silence. I needed this. I had to go.

Before I could whirl one of my clever
lines—or Pop-Tart—at him, I shoved the plate across the counter and
stormed to my room.

After undressing, I grabbed my grey
pajama shorts and white tank top, then jerked them on. I curled up
in bed, sliding my face next to the wall and pulled the comforter
over my head, blocking out the soft glow coming through the
window.

Only, sleep never came easy
anymore.

Every
time I closed my eyes, I saw the forest lit in flames. When I
dreamt, sadistic yellow-eyed men with long, flowing robes
killed
him
again.
I’d jolt awake seconds after, a scream on the edge of my tongue,
unsure if I’d let it out or stopped the noise just in
time.

More times than not, I woke in a cold
sweat. Other nights, morning seemed to come moments after closing
my eyes, which still hung heavy with the need for more
rest.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t this night.
Light from the rising sun seeped through the curtains, bathing the
room in a pale pink. Pushing the damp strands of hair from my face,
I climbed out of bed and walked to the door.

I tiptoed
down the hall, past Aiden’s closed door, and straight into the
living room. The big flat-screen TV didn’t even tempt me. With my
luck, some show about forest fires or murderers would be on.
Peeking around the half-wall separating the kitchen, I sighed. Like
I could eat after I’d been to hell and back.
Thank you, subconscious.

Turning back to drop on the couch, an
open door, I thought to be a closet, caught my eye. Instead of
hangers, or what could’ve been a stash of dead bodies for all I
knew, there were stairs.

Besides my own room, I hadn’t checked
the place out. It was everything anyone would expect a two-bedroom,
two-bathroom house to be: Small.

Nightmares forgotten, I glanced over
my shoulder and snuck toward the doorway. A dim light shone down
the stairwell, leading to a blue padded floor. A clinging sound,
like metal on metal, reverberated in the distance. Maybe I’d seen
too many horror movies, but I pictured some guy with a leather mask
swinging an axe. Oddly, the thought made me even more curious. I
fidgeted with a string on my shorts and looked around the room once
more, making sure Aiden hadn’t crept up on me with his freakishly
quiet movements. Debating for a tenth of a second more, I
descended.

A huge room, the length and width of
the entire house, stretched out before me. Blue and red foam mats
covered the floors and walls. “Where’re the straitjackets?” I said
under my breath. Ian probably put us in this house for my benefit,
but if any of us should’ve been put in a padded room, it was him
for placing me with Aiden.

Creepy, faceless practice dummies and
dangling punching bags bordered a section off to the right of the
room. In the back corner were weight machines. Hence the
clanging.

Aiden lay on his back, facing the
wall, using the bench press.

I started toward him, wondering why he
hadn’t heard me. Or maybe he had but was hoping I’d get the hint
and leave. Even though I still wasn’t talking to him, I couldn’t
bring myself to go. Not yet, anyway. Must’ve been a result of
social deprivation.

Oh. My. I
bit my lip and stopped right above his head. My eyes roamed over
his godsend eight pack and defined chest. Forget the firemen
pictures I used to have pinned to my wall. This was the real deal.
A huff of air escaped his lips every time his muscular arms lifted
the bar. Bulky couldn’t quite describe his body type; neither could
lean. He seemed to be right smack in the middle of both. Cut.
Ripped. And…A warm flush spread over my face.
Wow
.

I could’ve gawked all day—and
would’ve—had I not noticed little black wires, running from his
ears to a pocket on his workout shorts. He was listening to music?
Real smart. How’d he know I hadn’t been screaming bloody murder,
scrambling to get away from some psycho Rygon? He
didn’t.

So...I screamed.

The bar flew out of Aiden’s hands and
hit the padded wall. He bounded off the bench and rammed into me,
sending me sailing into the air. Shocks of pain shot through my
entire body as I came down hard on my back.

Wide-eyed, I stared at the ceiling.
That did not just happen.

In an instant, Aiden stood over me,
face pallid. “Are you hurt?”

I blinked a few times and pushed
myself into the sitting position. My wrist throbbed, making me
wince. I pulled it into my lap.

Aiden’s jaw clenched as he crouched
down in front of me and took my hand in his. Lifting his intense
eyes to mine briefly, he grazed the tips of his fingers over the
sides of my wrist. He applied the tiniest bit of pressure as he
examined it, checking for broken bones, I guessed. I watched him,
feeling too enthralled to be bothered with pain. I’d have never
thought his rough, Rygon-killing hands could be gentle.

I averted
my gaze, but my eyes didn’t get far. They stopped, drawn in by the
black tattoo—his Kember mark—covering his left peck. All Kembers
had them. The fancy back-to-back Ks symbolized that they took the
oath and completed their training.
W
ow
it
looked good on him.
Really
good…maybe even sexy—Good hell! He must’ve knocked
me down harder than I thought. I couldn’t think of him as even
remotely appealing. He was a Kember. Because of our different
energies, our two races didn’t hold that kind of attraction for
each other. It was unheard of—unnatural. Like a cat and dog getting
busy. Gross. No way would I get lost in his strong, soft
hands…

Aiden’s fingers stopped abruptly. His
eyes widened and hardened in the same instant but never moved from
my hand.

I stopped breathing. Did he feel what
I’d been feeling? Damn it.

In a tight voice he asked, “What were
you thinking?”

What was I thinking? He didn’t want to
know about all the indecent thoughts spinning around in my head.
“Well—”

“
Why’d you scream?”
Apparently he thought twice about invading the inner workings of my
mind.

“
I…uh wanted to know if you
could hear me.”

He
glanced up through the dampened hair that hung in his narrowed
eyes. “You couldn’t have said something like ‘Aiden, can you hear
me?’ You had to
scream
?”

I looked
away, my cheeks burning. That way would’ve been
a lot
less painful. “I didn’t
really…”

“
Think about it?” Aiden
finished my unspoken thought, his voice low and unapologetic.
“Maybe you should start. Then you wouldn’t find yourself in these
kinds of predicaments.”

“
If you would’ve been doing
your job, I wouldn’t have yelled. It’s not my fault you bulldozed
me.”

“
You screamed like someone
was ripping out your throat You expected me to finish my set? Get
up calmly?”

“
No, I just
didn’t—”

“
Think about it. I could’ve
hurt you.”

No, he
couldn't have. I was already
broken. I
stared at the wall, refusing to meet his gaze. One of those
very
rare moments where I
had absolutely nothing to say, crept in. Probably from the
awkwardness. I screamed, actually screamed, to get his attention.
How old was I? Two?

I opened my mouth, but the words took
a second to come. “Is it broken?”

“
No.” He released my hand
and stood, walking toward a little black bag stationed against a
wall. “Just sprained. If we wrap it, it’ll be okay in a few
days.”

On his left side, from his armpit to
his hip, were black symbols; some kind of cool writing. I leaned
forward to get a better look, but the curvy lines and dots meant
nothing to me. Taking a deep breath, I averted my gaze, realizing
I’d stared longer than necessary. “I didn’t know we had a basement.
Any other secret passages I should know about?”

After almost a minute, he returned
carrying a wrap. “I’m down here every morning. Are you that
unobservant?”

“
No. I usually just don’t
get up before six—like normal people.”

Again, Aiden took my hand. Warmth
spread through my body at his touch, making it impossible to think
about anything else. I looked down, cursing myself.

If Aiden felt it, he hid it well—thank
goodness. Fitting the bandage between my thumb and pointer finger,
he wrapped it down around my wrist. “I’m sure you didn’t get up
this early to get pummeled.”

“
Actually, I didn’t realize
you were down here. I thought the door was a closet, and when I saw
the stairs, I got curious.”

“
Curiosity woke
you?”

My palms started sweating. Did he know
about my nightmares? Had I actually screamed in my sleep and woken
him? I fingered the thin strap on my tank top and looked down.
“Can’t we go to Portland? I’ll do anything. I’ll read that freakin’
bird book. I’ll—I’ll try not to do crap like this…” Me and my big
mouth.

His profound eyes swept me. I wondered
what he saw: a poor pathetic girl, begging to be taken to her
death, or a spiteful smartass so caught up in revenge she couldn’t
see straight.

Finally, Aiden focused his attention
back on my wrist and finished wrapping it. He nodded toward the
workout equipment. “Let me finish here. Get an overnight bag
packed, and I’ll meet you at the truck in twenty
minutes.”

I got my
way
without
mind
control? I just about questioned but didn’t dare risk the chances
of him giving me a different answer. Once Aiden released me, I
sprinted back to my room. I could barely believe we were actually
going. The thought
almost
made me giddy.

My steps
faltered and my heart sank when I spotted the black backpack in the
corner of my closet.
His
voice echoed in my mind, repeating his words on
that last day. “
Grab your pack,
now.”