Reckless Revenge: Book Four (Spellbound 4) (4 page)

Later that afternoon, I went straight home from school still feeling on edge. Once I finished my homework, I went downstairs to get some chips to munch on and bumped into Darrah. Literally. I smacked right into her as she was exiting the kitchen.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

She brushed off her clothes as if I had cooties. Nice.

I opened the cabinet and grabbed a canister of sour cream and onion Pringles. Yum. When I turned around, she was standing in the doorway watching me.

“What?”

“I have a question for you. Did you know there was a werewolf in the woods? Did you?”

I popped open the lid and removed a chip. “It’s a lycan.”

“What?”

“It’s not a werewolf. Why does everyone automatically assume that? They can only change during the full moon.”

Aunt Darrah grunted. “Answer me.”

“Yes, I knew.” My gaze narrowed. “Wait, a dang minute. How did
you
know?”

“Doesn’t matter. You should have told me.”

I put the chip into my mouth and chewed slowly just to irritate her. “Do we have to go into this now?”

“It would’ve been nice if you had confided in me, instead of going to that ghost hunter—Anthony Evans.” Darrah’s sharp tone sliced through me. “Why do you feel you can’t tell me anything?”

Placing the lid back on the chip container and setting it on the counter, I glanced at her. She was dressed to kill in a red silk dress and stilettos. Her hazel eyes were like a kaleidoscope that changed colors with her moods. Right now, they were swirling with a deep brown.

She tapped her Prada on the linoleum. “Well?”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, I dunno. Could it be because we hate each other? And I don’t trust you?”

“Grow up! If there’s a new threat in Fallen Oaks, the coven needs to know about it—”

“Yeah, well, I don’t trust your evil coven either,” I snapped. “And
I’m
taking care of the lycan situation. I don’t need your help, Darrah.”

“Shiloh.” A frown puckered both her brow and her lips. “You can’t do this alone.”

“Who said I was?” I shook my head. “I gotta go. I don’t have time for this.” Grunting, I pushed past her and stamped out the front door.

After I picked up Ariana, we drove to Craven Manor to talk to Trent’s uncle, who I called Evans, and find out if he had any new info on the lycan situation. The sprawling mansion loomed high and wide, casting a long dark shadow across the estate. Unlike the other opulent homes in the neighborhood, the four-story structure was bursting with Gothic architectural characteristics: turrets, stained-glass windows, cupolas, and cornices. Ivy cuddled the gate, which opened with a grunt as I drove through and parked near the house. Trent’s Dodge Charger wasn’t in the driveway.

A huge raven perched precariously on a branch in the oak near the porch, and the highly glossed plumage of iridescent greens, blues, and purples gleamed in the moonlight. The bird tilted its head, black gaze fixed on
me
.

Creepy damn bird had been following me around town for weeks. I ignored my feathered foe and ascended the steps.

The Donovan’s housekeeper, Mrs. Baylock, greeted us at the door. She fiddled with the wire-rimmed glasses hanging around her neck on a silver chain. Mrs. Baylock was an older lady with brown eyes and chestnut hair styled in a loose bun. Her fashion sense was rather quirky, she generally dressed as if she’d stepped out of a 1920s black and white movie in her gray uniform trimmed in ivory, with hard-soled shoes.

In the foyer, the faces of distinguished Donovan relatives stared down at us from their gilded frames. The walls were covered with ornate wallpaper in rich scarlets, jades, and golds. The floors were waxed hardwood, sprinkled with antique rugs, and the furniture was ornate, carved wood and overstuffed upholstery. Most rooms were decorated in Victorian-chic with a comfy old-world elegance and a few modern touches. Mrs. Baylock lead us straight toward the library—Evans’s usual hangout spot.

My mentor was seated behind the big oak desk and glanced up from his laptop. “Hello, girls.” He was dressed in his customary hip-college-professor garb: long-sleeved shirt, sweater vest, slacks, and expensive loafers. Evans was in his mid-thirties, cool, and super smart.

The library was a vast space, warm and inviting, and by far my favorite room in the mansion. I took a deep breath of the air, letting the musty books, leather furniture, and polished wood scent fill my senses. In one corner, a mahogany desk squatted, cluttered with ancient tomes and exhausted notebooks, with light from an antique desk lamp lighting the smooth surface. A cushioned loveseat was positioned across from a bulky leather couch and an armchair sat opposite the fireplace. The chandelier overhead flung a soft glow over the built-in bookcases lining three walls.

Ariana shouldered me aside and entered the room. She plopped on the loveseat, reached for a book on the table, and idly flipped the pages. Probably forcing her mind off the scary-wolf-thingy prowling the woods.

Taking a seat, I texted Trent to let him know that we were at his house. Then Arianna and I told Evans that there had been another attack on a student and about the new curfew.

Evans nodded. “I heard about it on the news. I’ve lost count of how many attacks there’ve been over the past month. The only things these incidents seem to have in common are that the high school football players are the targets and all the boys slip into strange comas after being bitten by the lycans.”

There was definitely something weird about coma-induced kids who awakened from three-day siestas after being chomped on by a lycan, and then seemed A-Okay.

“So enlighten me, Mr. Research Guy. Any theories about the coma kids?” I asked Evans.

He nodded. “My reference tomes indicate that if a person is bitten once by a lycan, their body will go into a type of coma—a deathlike sleep—while the lycan DNA transforms and merges with the human cells. The victim is, in a way, reborn with animalistic tendencies and visceral aggression, which makes them lethal and dangerous predators.”

“What’s the DarkSide Detective’s take on this lycan business? Any helpful info we can use to stop them?” Ariana asked.

I had never met the DarkSide Detectives, or DD for short, although they were a private organization of paranormal investigators that Evans often worked with on weird cases like this.

“Not really. Just what we already know…” Evans shook his head. “That lycans are bigger creatures and more aggressive than werewolves. Myth states that a werewolf can only transform on a full moon, but lycans can shapeshift at will. And they retain their human intelligence and personalities while transformed. These were-creatures will be harder to track because they’re obviously shrewder than other shapeshifters.” Evans pushed his glasses up in a gesture I’d always found geeky yet endearing. “Would you like to hear what I discovered about Fallen Oaks’s insidious origins?”

Ugh, not another boring history lesson.

“You betcha,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. I checked my phone. No calls. No text messages.

“It turns out that the whole town was built over what we call a
Sheol
,” Evans said. “And if my calculations are correct, the focal point is beneath Silent Hollows Cemetery. According to mythology, these are gateways into the underworld, like a barrier between dimensions.”

“Hence we’re getting more supernatural baddies? It sounds so Hellmouthy,” Ari said.

My shoulders caved inwards. “Wicked awesome.”

So
not
wicked awesome.

“This town has a lot of supernatural history. The descendants of the founding families are plagued by secrets and mysteries, maybe even suffering the sins of their fathers,” Evans said.

Ariana sighed and blurted what I had just been thinking, “Why us? I mean, it’s not like there’s a billboard outside of town that says,
Come to the dark side, we have cookies! Bring the kids!
”

Evans let loose a rich, bellowing chuckle, and I smiled despite the grim tone of our conversation.

“No, but perhaps we should. I bring this up because I think it might have something to do with the groundskeeper murdered in the same cemetery,” he said, scooting forward. “Let me clarify, the sinister energies discharged by the Sheol can be illustrated by Fallen Oaks’s bleak and foreboding history. The only known archetype for the concept of a Sheol is in the book of
Numbers
in the Bible. It describes a momentary act of God by Moses and not an actual area of landscape or artifact, but I think it still refers to the Sheol.” He sipped his mug of steaming coffee.

I chewed my lip. “Hmmm, that’s what must’ve swallowed, Esael.” The Soul Eater, Esael, had sucked the souls out of several teens over the last few years until the local coven helped me vanquish him over the summer.

Everyone was quiet for a moment while we digested this new info. Wall sconces cast spectral shadows on the walls. It almost seemed like we should be speaking in whispers, although, there was no one around to hear us except the great characters of literature scattered upon the shelves.

“I’m not saying that Fallen Oaks is unique,” Evans said, setting his cup on the desk. “Dreadful things happen in other areas, too. In any case, a place can simply be malevolent in origin.”

“That’s seriously creepy,” Ari said with a shudder.

“It is not an easy life we live as protectors of the innocent,” Evans said with detached inevitability. “As mere humans, we are fragile creatures caught up in a dangerous war of good versus evil. Thus, we have to deal with the complications of living in a world where the supernatural is
real
. Even so, sometimes we must study the past in order to learn from the oversights of others. There’s something
different
about this place. You sense it the minute you cross the town border.”

He was right. We lived in a quiet, yet notorious community that had a high amount of oddities, and the entire town was filled with quirky and eccentric locals, all with something to hide. Many of the residents were so intricately connected that their elaborate unions and rivalries went back generations. In Fallen Oaks, family mattered—especially if you belonged to one of the town’s founding families, and watch out if you crossed any of them!

“So if everyone in town knows about the supernatural activity, why don’t they just leave?” Ari asked.

“I suspect money,” Evans said. “With good reason. Folks here depend on the Donovan Inn to support the township. The tourists come to visit the ocean and hike the forest, which provides jobs for many people. In this economy, they may not find work elsewhere.”

Ariana tucked a wild curl behind her ear. “That makes sense. Still…the families here have endured so much. It doesn’t seem worth it.”

A frown touched Evans’s lips. “Bad things happen everywhere.”

“Well, I think the number one problem in this town is apathy, but hey, who cares!” I blurted.

“
We
do.” Evans sighed. “All right, girls, history lesson over. Now we can study lycanthropes.” He glanced at me. “Don’t roll your eyes. This is an important part of your preparation, Shiloh.”

The shades entered the room in their shadowy form, crawling from the dark corners, and then becoming more solid. The three little demons scampered over to me like affectionate puppies. I scratched Bakaz behind the ears. Kasha jumped onto my lap and I stroked her dreadlocks.

“Do those anthracite creatures have to follow you everywhere?” Evans asked.

I glanced at my shoes, or lack thereof. Zrekam had draped his little black body over my feet. Kasha curled up on my lap. Bakaz jumped on the couch between Ariana and me, and she petted his head.

“We look out for each other.” I nuzzled Bakaz with my cheek where he rested on my shoulder. A twinge inside my heart reminded me that the fourth little demon Azeri was dead. He had died protecting me from a lycan.

Evans sighed again. “A good witch with shades as pets. It’s rather profound in a maudlin kind of way.”

“I think they’re ugly cute,” Ariana said, and Bakaz rubbed his head against her arm.

“Nevertheless, the town curse and paranormal activity is not our top priority. Let’s focus on the real threat—the
lycans
.” Evans sighed and glanced at the pile of folders on the desk. “Just remember that similar to vampire lore, most paranormals—including lycans—cannot enter churches or walk on hallowed ground.” He held a book in one hand and read, “Lycans loath the stench of the dead. Therefore, you won’t find them skulking around any graveyards. They prefer to hunt in lush wooded areas like Muir Woods.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” I said.

Evans pushed back his chair and stood. “We can start with a few reference books that I have on mystical wolves and other paranormals.” He went to the stacks and selected various heavy-looking tomes, and then placed them on the desk.

Meh. Now he was gonna make us go into research mode.

Ariana stood and stretched. “I’m gonna get a drink of water. Save a big, musty book for me.” I stifled a grin as she strode from the room.

Evans handed me a hardback, and I turned to the index. When Ariana returned we hunched over our books and read in silence for a while. Various paranormals were discussed when found within the text and anything relating to wolves was intensely debated.

“Do you think I should start patrolling at night?” I asked. “Just around the town’s city limits. I won’t go out on foot, but I could drive around in the Jeep.”

“I’d feel better about you doing that once you’ve had more training with Trent,” Evans said, then gazed over my shoulder.

Speak of the devil.

When I glanced at the doorway, Trent was standing there—gorgeous, smoldering, and wickedly grinning at me. For some reason, he always seemed to appear in the middle of all the supernatural talk. I stared at him thoughtfully, fighting the crazy zap of happiness and yearning that swelled in my chest at the sight of my boyfriend.

Evans cleared his throat and shuffled the papers littering his desk. “Hello, Trent,” he said.

Trent nodded in his uncle’s direction.

“Go talk to your boy,” Ari said and patted my shoulder, then she turned to Evans. “Give me a lift home?”

“Absolutely.” Evans stood and grabbed his corduroy jacket from the back of the chair.

My mentor and best friend walked past Trent and out the door.

My heart, skipping a beat, betrayed me. My simple need to be near Trent was in the lead, and my commitment to protect innocents temporarily gone.

Crossing the room in quick strides, he stood beside me. Trent’s arms automatically went around my waist and I snuggled into him.

“You guys discussing supernatural warfare?” he asked lightly.

“What else?” I shrugged.

He nodded. “Wanna hang out for a while? Take your mind off it?”

“Yes, please!”

He smiled and lowered his head, his mouth hovering over mine. Air left my lungs. My lashes fluttered downward and I breathed through parted lips. When he kissed me hard on the mouth, I leaned into him. I breathed in his unique scent as he kissed the hollow beneath my ear. My pulse galloped under his touch. He didn’t actually want to hook up in here, did he? Evans would be back soon and Mrs. Baylock was lurking around the house somewhere.

“Maybe we should go upstairs,” he said, brushing my hair to the side.

Good idea. The guy was a dang mind reader. I mutely nodded.

Trent took my hand and led me into the hall and up the rather grandiose staircase toward his bedroom. He opened the door and stood there, waiting for me to enter first.

“After you,” he said, waving me into the room.

Crumpled blankets covered the Pottery Barn bed with a headboard that had built-in shelves crammed with paperbacks and model cars. In a dark corner stood an old arcade game and a beanbag sat in front of an Xbox and flat screen TV. Discarded clothes littered the floor, CDs were strewn near the stereo, and a poster of a bikini-clad girl was pinned above the desk on a light blue painted wall. A snowboard leaned against the closet door. The only light came from a small, burgundy desk lamp.

My heart fluttered on feathery little wings and nudged me across the threshold. Trent closed the door behind us. We were alone. In his bedroom.

“I missed you today,” he said, taking my hand and kissing it. “And I am in desperate need of some alone time with my girl.”

“We’re usually alone, Trent.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Yeah, but we’re normally training. Now it’s cuddle time.”

I giggled, but my laughter quickly died away. A strange tingling started in the pit of my stomach, and I turned away. I lifted a paperback on the bed. He had dog-eared a few pages. Naughty boy.

A cell phone bleeped. Trent whipped an iPhone out of his pocket.

“Stick around, gorgeous,” he said to me, then turned away and spoke into the receiver. “Donovan, here.”

I flipped the pages of the book, pretending not to listen. Not easy.

“No. Yeah. That’s fine,” Trent said hastily. His left hand curled into a fist. For a second the white of his irises vanished, completely black as a shark. “Yes. I
said
I’d be there and I will.” He blinked and his gaze become their normal green hue, brighter than summer leaves. After a few more grunted uh-huhs, he ended the call and sighed. “Sorry about that.” He tucked the iPhone into a drawer in the desk. “It was Maxwell.”

I didn’t respond right away. I must’ve imagined the midnight color darkening his gaze. I just needed more sleep. My tired eyeballs were playing tricks on me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “And?”

“My father,” he explained, “was checking in from his penthouse in San Francisco.”

My heart went out to him. His dad was never around. Trent seemed so vulnerable right now, like a kicked puppy. Like a child whose parents had just told him there was no Santa Claus. He reached for my hand and laced our fingers. For a moment, he stared at the floor.

“Where are you supposed to be?”

Trent let go of my hand. “He’s just harassing me about college again. Some rep heard about my high test scores and is trying to recruit me.”

“Rep?”

I was standing next to the bed, flipping through the paperback to see what he’d dog-eared when Trent snagged the book from me, tossing it across the bed so hard it fell off the other side.

“Yeah,” he said and ran his hand through his light brown hair, darkened by winter’s kiss. “Stanford, actually. No big deal.”

Stanford was no big deal? My mouth fell open. I’d kill and maim to get into that college. Any college, really, that was far from here.

He moved closer. “I don’t like him always prying into my life.”

“At least you have a dad that cares about you,” I said softly.

He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I guess…”

My heart squeezed whenever I thought about my own dad. Personally, I couldn’t imagine my aunt Darrah being excited about anything, let alone anything that had to do with me. But my mom, Lauren, would be—she was all kinds of awesomesauce.

“I don’t want to talk about parent stuff,” Trent said, his green eyes a thousand miles away. There was something dark and haunted about his expression.

I wanted to hug and kiss the hurt away. He didn’t speak for a full minute. I didn’t know what to say to erase the brooding expression that crossed his beautiful face.

So, I placed my hands on his shoulders and leaned closer to softly touch his neck with my lips. In response, Trent tugged slightly on my shoulder and I faced him. Staring into his eyes, I grasped the back of his shirt. His mouth found mine before I could respond in a long, hard, deep, full-scale kiss, and made my emotions ran rampant.

I pulled him onto the bed, our bodies causing the springs to creak, and our lips met with a heat that stunned me. We kissed deeply—slowly at first, as he shifted to hover over my body. My hands skimmed upward from Trent’s slim hips, over his rock-hard abs, to his chest. He started trailing his lips down my neck, leaving a blaze of tantalizing fire wherever his mouth touched.

We melded together in heat and passion as we tasted, kissed, and groped each other. I opened my mouth and let him kiss me as deeply as he wanted—as if all he ever wanted was to kiss me and this would be his only chance. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him against me even tighter. My body arched into his and he softly moaned.

He tucked his nose into the indent of my collarbone, and his warm breath tickled my skin. Then he peppered little kisses on my nose, cheeks, and neck. My breath fast and heavy. “I’m a mess without you, Shiloh. Please don’t ever leave me…” he whispered into my hair.

“Never,” I said and clung to him.

His gentle touch made everything that was wrong in the world seem almost normal again, but when we parted, it had me biting my lip and feeling super confused. I was all nerves and anticipation, and I just wanted to keep touching him. Trent’s hands on my body, his lips on my mouth, felt so perfect and familiar, like they belonged there. His touch was like coming home. He held me tightly in his arms until a noise in the hallway had me jumping away from him.

Trent took my hand, tugging me back toward him. “It’s okay. Probably Mrs. Baylock,” he said. “You’re safe here. With me. I promise.” His voice had gone a shade lower, like velvet.

He hooked his leg over mine and slid his hands beneath my hair to gently pull me closer to him. His lips found mine again, his deep kisses wild and passionate. And I wanted more. Trent slid his hands under my shirt and my breathing caught when his palms stilled on my quivering stomach. Trent had always been a complete gentleman and respectful of my boundaries, and I appreciated that.

He pulled back and his gaze was gentle but intense. “You know I care about you, right?” he whispered. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else,
mon amour
.”

The sincerity in his eyes had me melting into the mattress.

“I haven’t either,” I said quietly.

“I just want to be with you—
only
you,” Trent whispered. “I’m freakin’ crazy about you, Shiloh.”

My insides turned to mush. “And I only want to be with you, Trent. No one else.”

He smiled happily and softly kissed my mouth, leaning me backward onto the bed again. We were both so caught up in the moment that the rest of world and all of our paranormal troubles seemed to vanish. I eased off his shirt and ran my hands over his naked torso. His lips skimmed the surface of my throat. He lifted my shirt and I let him. Trent had seen the scar on my forearm, a jagged horribleness of raised skin, with a reddish hue to the edges while we trained, so I wasn’t feeling very bashful about it while we were making out. He didn’t stare at the freakish scar, but he did gaze at my lacy pink bra. Trent grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me toward him and pressing his lips to mine. My senses whirled out of control. The very primal way he gripped my hair and held me against him erupted almost instantly into something deep and consuming, passionate and ravaging. Maybe it was the way he held me in his arms, or the way our bodies were pressed together side-by-side, or the touch of the nearly nude man beside me. Our mouths clung together in a melting sweetness. One of his hands slid upward to cup my breast and I moaned softly. We kissed deeply and hugged each other close. He proceeded to kiss the hollow of my neck, then he worked his way to my shoulder, then his lips moved a bit lower near my cleavage.

The room was suddenly flooded with light.

We both blinked into the glare. Trent turned his head and flinched.

Oh. My. God. I wanted to die. Slowly, I turned around. Sure enough, my mentor stood by the doorway with his finger still on the light switch, a wide-eyed expression on his classically handsome face.

As he stared at Trent and me, his eyes grew wide. “Oh, dear lord,” Evans cried. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Trent sighed heavily and slumped on the mattress. “Did you need something, Uncle Tony?”

“I, um, just wanted to…” Evans dropped his hand away from the switch and closed his eyes for a second, as if it would clear his mind of the image before him. I dreaded to think what this looked like to him. He knew were dating, but being half-naked in front of him was slightly embarrassing for all of us. Well, maybe not for Trent.

Uninvited heat reddened my cheeks. “Uh, give me a sec,” I mumbled and tried to tug on my shirt over my head. My arms got tangled in the fabric and I ended up trying to put my head through the sleeve. Where was the damn opening? I yanked it off and tried again. Finally, I got my shirt back on straight.

“I, uh…oh—never mind,” Evans stammered, and then fled the room.

I glanced at Trent, and the beginning of that annoying smirk tipped the corners of his mouth.

“Whatcha doing tomorrow?” Trent asked nonchalantly as if Evans had not just walked in on us partially undressed. “Do you want to hang out by the lake?”

Phoenix Lake was the local make-out spot. Couples parked there or lazed in the meadow by the water. Some even dared to go skinny-dipping.

I took a steadying breath to control my heart rate. “Sure. What time?”

“About seven. But wait inside the Jeep if I’m not there yet. Then we’ll do a little recon.”

So, he didn’t want to continue
this
at the lake. Just hunt down the lycans. I gave him a jerky nod of consent. Who cared about the stupid sheriff-imposed curfew? Not me. And obviously not a rebel like Trent.

In that moment, I didn’t care anymore that I’d witnessed Trent’s unnatural black eyes. If he was offering to help hunt Dad’s murderer and join my team—then sign me up. Besides, I had so many other things to worry about that I just didn’t want to dwell on it. I was a busy girl. I had scores to settle. Lycans to kill. And creepy ravens to zap outta trees. It just goes to show you how much my priorities were seriously out of whack.