Forbidden, Tempted Series (Book 1) (9 page)

“Now hurry up, missy.” Abel jerked his head toward the opposite handlebar on her side. “My dad’s got the freakin’ nose of a bloodhound.”

Not that she didn’t want to “borrow” the ATV, because she totally did, but... “Abel, don’t these things lock automatically? I think you’re gonna have to start it so we can get it moving.”

“Umm, how ’bout no.” He lifted a brow. “My dad catches me over here, I’ll be the one scraping horse dung out of the stalls the rest of the week. Look, it’s easy, I’ve done it before. Just pop the clutch and it’ll go.”

“This is a standard? Are you sure you can drive it?”

He huffed. “Flint, this isn’t my first rodeo.” He pointed. “Now pop it.”

She did as he ordered and was surprised how smoothly it rolled out. She stifled a giggle as they eased it past Adam’s trailer, past the tents and the sounds of a roaring crowd, and out the gates.

“I can’t believe we got away with that and no one caught us,” she said, eyes wide with adrenaline.

Abel hopped onto the front and patted the small space behind him. “Not really made for two people, but you’re small enough, I think.”

She snorted. “You’re smaller.”

He rolled his eyes and started the machine. It idled like the gentle purr of a kitten. “I’m pretty sure I just got a new muscle today. Here, look.” He pointed at his sad-looking bicep, flexing it with a grin.

Flint laughed and hopped on.

“Hold on.” Abel hit on the gas and Flint wrapped her arms tight around his waist, his chuckle the only thing she heard.

C
ain punched her again, splitting her lip open. “Tell me where she is!” he snarled, blood pounding so hard through his veins he thought they’d break open.

She laughed, the sound high and dry, then wiped the blood from her mouth. “You think a few hits will make me talk? You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

The
Aswang
drone’s eyes were bloodshot and wild, high on blood and adrenaline. Her skin—if he should even call
it
a her—was pale and peeling at the edges of her face. The monster was shedding, days away from its metamorphosis.

The dead body by its feet made Cain wonder how many it had already killed. He’d tailed the drone out to the docks, knowing that while its skin peeled, it needed blood. It was the only way to make the transition fully from drone to full-blooded hive.

Cain gripped it by its shirt, his voice deep and full of fire as he asked, “Where is your queen?” Spittle flew from his lips.

The
Aswang
licked its lips and moaned, eyes homed in on Cain’s neck. “Your pulse beats like thunder in my ears. How do you taste, rager?”

The skin under Cain’s eye twitched as he barely restrained his natural instinct to maim and thrash and beat the creature to a bloody pulp. “One last chance to answer me. Where is your hive?”

Its bloody eyes narrowed into twin slits. “What is your weakness, rager? Hmm?” Its sibilant tone crawled over Cain’s body like writhing maggots.

His smile was cocky. “So it seems you won’t be answering me?”

The red haze covering his vision began to slowly clear once he stopped trying to control himself. Now that he knew he was going to kill it, staying in control was so much easier. He raised a brow.

It moved its head like a charmed cobra, lecherous grin tipping the corners of its fanged mouth. “Our soothsayer says you have one. You all have one.”

The blood in his veins turned to ice.

“Is it your brother? Hmmm? We’ve seen how you try to protect him. We will find out. And when she does,” it hissed, “it will be the beginning of the end.”

Cain’s hands slowly slid up the creature’s body, coming to rest against the peeling cheeks. “I have no weakness,” he snarled, and then with a surge of strength, he torqued the thing’s neck until the bones cracked and the
Aswang
slumped lifeless at his feet.

Body still pumped full of adrenaline, Cain jerked upright and with a roar ran into the green dumpster in the abandoned alley. Over and over again, he slammed his weight into the metal, bending it like a straw, burning through the fuel of his rage until the shaking stopped, until his vision cleared.

The slick pavement ran with water and blood.

He stared at his knuckles and then the buzzing in his head quieted and he heard the terrified murmurs hiding within shadow.

A homeless couple stood fifty yards away, hugging one another, gazing at him with terror and wonder.

Nostrils flaring, muscles beginning to relax and return to normal, he turned on his heel and ran back to his car, leaving the carcass to burn in the morning light.

He needed to talk to Adam and he needed to do it now.

F
lint got off the ATV, laughing as she finger-combed the knots out of her hair. “That was—”

“Awesome, right?” Abel gave her that killer smile again.

Driving through the dead of night, barely able to see the path ahead as they twisted and turned around stumps and ruts... Yeah, it’d been reckless and unbelievably exciting.

A sliver of moon peeked through the cloudy night, but she shouldn’t have worried she’d drown in the water. Someone had lit what looked like a hundred torches everywhere. At its center a large pool of black water rippled softly.

They stood about sixty feet above the water, the rocky ledge that led down to the water’s edge making her slightly nervous.

“This is the hole? And you expect me to swim in that?” She gave him a good-luck-with-that smirk.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I expect you to swim in that, wuss. Besides, I don’t think it’s got a Loch Ness monster lurking in there.”

“You don’t
think
?”

Abel flung his arm over her shoulder, guiding her down the hill. “I know, okay? Mom’s got a friend who works the quarry—there’s not even fish swimming in that thing.”

“Hmm.” Flint still wasn’t too sure, but she also didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t swim. She’d wait to see what everyone else did when they got there.

Once they got to the bottom, he guided her over to a large cooler nestled in the grass, popped the lid and handed her a beer.

“Beer, Abel? Don’t you have anything other than that?”

“Girl Scout,” he mumbled, chuckling low.

She bristled as he dug around for something else. Not that she hadn’t gotten smashed in her life, she had, but Flint had seen something most kids probably hadn’t and that was a dad so wasted he’d pissed himself almost every night an entire year straight.

Drinking wasn’t as much fun when you got to see the other side of it while stone sober. She snatched the water bottle out of his hand and refused to say thanks.

“Anyway”—he popped the top of his beer and took a huge draught of it before finishing his thought—“how was the first week of school?”

“It sucked.” She twisted the cap on her bottle, glanced at the water, then screwed the cap back on. She really wasn’t thirsty.

Abel kicked off his flip-flops and sat on the grass, crossing his ankles. The humidity of earlier had faded, the night was pleasantly warm. Flint dropped down next to him, crisscrossing her legs.

“You hear ’bout that father-daughter/mother-son dance next week at the rec center?” He burped, glanced at his bottle, and curled his nose, a quick grimace that let her know he hadn’t really developed a taste for the stuff yet.

“Yeah. I’m not telling my dad. Does anyone even go to those things really?” Then it dawned on her that she might have insulted him. “Umm... I mean. Are you taking your mom? If so, that’s cool.”

Abel rolled his lips. “Even if I wanted to, which not in a million years, she’d never come. Mom’s...” He looked at her and shrugged. “She’s yeah... whatever.”

“Whatever?” She wrinkled her nose. “Does she work in the circus too?” Flint mentally rewound all the people she’d glimpsed tonight and none remotely resembled either Cain or Abel.

Abel scratched at the paper wrapping on his glass bottle. His jaw was clenched tight, and in that moment it was uncanny how much he reminded her of Cain. A solid eighty pounds lighter, but the resemblance was definitely in that scowl. Then his thick brown brows smoothed out.

“My mom’s completely disfigured, Flint.”

Oh, she’d stepped into that one. That awkward moment when she asked a totally random and innocent question, only to find out the answer went so much deeper than she’d wanted to go. “I’m so—”

“Sorry?” he supplied with a grim set of his lips. “Don’t be. Happened a long time ago.” He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

He sounded glum, and she so didn’t want to poke old wounds. Tonight was supposed to be about fun, about forgetting everything and just being young. But she couldn’t help but wonder as other kids from the show started trickling in how Abel’s mom was disfigured and what could have done it.

Finally she spotted Janet and, with a sigh of relief, hopped to her feet. “Janet’s here.”

Abel plunked his less-than-half-drank beer down. “So’s Rhiannon.” He pointed at the petite blonde walking beside a waving Janet.

Both girls were still wearing their cheetah-spot tights and tutus.

But unlike Flint, the moment they got to the water’s edge, they rolled down their stockings, unhooked their tutus, and stepped out in matching black bikinis.

“Lovely,” Flint drawled. “You knew too?”

Rhiannon laughed, eyeing Flint’s blue-jean shorts. “That’s gonna suck to swim in.”

Then, taking a running dive, she slipped easily into the water. Janet followed close on her heels. Abel dragged his shirt off, finger-waved at Flint, and cannonballed in, getting Flint completely soaked.

He popped out of the water a second later and flicked water at her. “Get in—you’re not getting any younger.”

And since pretty much everyone had jumped in, there didn’t seem a point in staying out. Flint took off her top. Yes, it was a bra she had on, but thankfully she’d worn her hunter-green one, which meant it pretty much looked like a bikini top anyway. But the shorts were definitely not coming off.

Swimming in denim was going to suck as Rhiannon had put it so nicely, which meant Abel was totally gonna pay. Flint cannonballed in, shocked immediately by the sharpness of the cold water that seemed to cut straight through her bones.

Shivering, she popped to the surface and growled. “It’s cold!”

Abel snorted and Janet shook her head. “Nope,” they said together. “You’re just a wimp.”

A few more seconds and she finally felt able to breathe without clacking her teeth together. “I’ll show you wimp.”

She dove underneath, this time prepared for the cold, and with a quick stroke reached Abel’s side. Flint latched on to his shorts and jerked them down.

“Flint, I’ll get you!” he cried when she resurfaced, and then proceeded to chase her around for the next ten minutes.

Thirty minutes later, Flint was done. She could barely feel her fingers anymore and wondered why no one else was shivering as violently as she was. She shoved the hair out of her eyes and nodded to the bank.

“I’m getting out. Too cold.”

Janet floated on her back next to her, gently swishing her hands in the water, not reacting except to open her eyes when a group of five rowdy guys swam close to her, splashing so hard the water landed on her face.

“I think Rhi brought you a towel. It’ll be next to the ATVs. Look for the one with Hawaii printed on it.” Then she dipped under the water and disappeared.

Abel was splashing around with Rhiannon and a few other kids Flint recognized from the procession earlier. Arms shaking with cold, she hoisted herself out of the water and sat for a moment, body so numb she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk straight right now.

But the brush of air that’d felt so warm and inviting earlier was now making her skin crawl with ice. The denim was definitely
not
helping; the second she stood, she wanted to strip it off. And might have if Abel hadn’t shot her a knowing look just then.

Hissing at him, she turned on her heel and walked back up to the parked ATVs. It wasn’t far, but it might as well have been—stones kept gouging her feet as the cold continued to beat through her body.

Thankfully, she found the stack of towels and tossed them aside until she found Hawaii. With an audible sigh, she wrapped it around her body. She really wanted to go home now.

She and cold did not mix.

Flint plopped down, wrapping the beach towel completely around herself, huddling underneath it for whatever warmth she could. She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there when she suddenly became aware of the sensation of being watched.

It started out with a prickle in the back of her neck. She rubbed the spot and frowned, beginning to freak at the thought of someone spying on her.

Glancing over her shoulder, heart pounding so hard she heard it echo in her ears, she scanned the darkness. At first she couldn’t see anything, but she knew there was something there. A second later, she saw glowing red eyes.

“What are you doing here?” The gruff voice shattered her silence and with a scream, Flint jumped to her feet and raked her nails down the face of the voice, not knowing until a second later that the face belonged to Cain.

Twin welts ran the length of his cheek, beads of blood welling at the bottom.

“You scared me!” She grabbed her chest, only just realizing she’d lost the towel.

The look he sent her had nothing to do with the scratches and everything to do with what he was looking at. Namely her breasts.

“You’re wearing a bra.”

It wasn’t a question, more an accusation, and she bristled, shoving wet, flopping strands of hair out of her eyes. His sneer and complete disregard for the scratches she’d clawed down his face made her furious. Flint clenched her fists, wishing she’d drawn more blood. She wanted to bend down and pick up the towel but felt somehow that doing so would be like telling him he’d won. So she held her head high.

“I haven’t seen you in days, and that’s what you say to me? A hello might be nice.”

Cain stepped in close, and it was then that she noticed the large rip in the sleeve of his shirt. And he smelled good. Like really good. A deep, musky scent of pine and something spicy and woodsy. Wishing she could pinch her nose shut, she glowered back at him.