Darkness Bound_A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance Read online

  “Darlin’, your love is my poison,” he sang out from the bathroom down the hall, “and I’m dying for another taste.”

  “I’ve got your poison right here,” I grumbled, though I doubted he could hear me.

  “You make me bleed,” he belted out, “a little more for every kiss. But baby don’t you know by now I’d bleed myself dry for one last hit?”

  Goosebumps rose on my arms.

  I yelled at them.

  “Can’t you hear me?” he sang, louder and more passionately with each word. “I’m out here in the cold, banging down your gate. I’ll never leave you, darlin’, I’m just begging for my dose of fate. ‘Cause oh-oh-oh, your love is my poison, and I’m falling out for—”

  The kettle whistled, muffling his next words. I whisked it away from the flame and tried to catch another note, but it was too late. Asher’s serenade had stopped.

  “Thank God,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

  I pictured Sophie teasing me with a hearty laugh and a swift roll of her eyes.

  You are soooo crushing on him, Gray…

  I poured the hot water over a sachet of chocolate pu-erh tea, letting its sweet scent calm me as the image of Sophie’s smile faded.

  Asher started up a new tune, but I knew better than to give him any more attention. Leaving him to it, I headed into the living room with my tea and my book and an unflappable resolve to carve out some peace, even if there was a sexy-as-sin incubus tormenting me from behind the bathroom door.

  Where he was currently in the shower. Naked.

  Dripping wet over all those muscles and tattoos.

  Singing rock ballads that gave me goosebumps.

  Figures he can actually sing, too…

  I caught myself before I got sucked into another pointless fantasy, refocusing on the task at hand.

  Which was…?

  Oh, right.

  Peace and quiet in the living room.

  While the kitchen was a sleek affair with vast granite countertops, glass-front maple cabinets, a big island in the center, and stainless steel appliances, the living room was much homier, featuring huge bay windows, a vaulted timber-framed ceiling, lived-in leather furniture, and a massive stone fireplace that took up almost an entire wall.

  Setting my stuff on the coffee table, I knelt before the hearth and loaded in some crumpled newspapers and a few logs, kindling new flames to life.

  Asher’s voice dimmed to background noise as the fire popped and hissed, and I grabbed the butter-colored afghan from the back of the worn leather couch, curling up in what was quickly becoming my favorite spot.

  I’d left Sophie’s tarot cards on the coffee table, and I reached for them now, thinking as always about my best friend. Lately, her presence had been a constant in my life; real or imagined, memory or vision or magic or plain old pie-in-the-sky hope, she’d been with me, making me laugh and cry, offering advice, and keeping me company through the loneliest hours of the night.

  I’d always felt especially close to her when I read with her cards, but tonight, something seemed to shove my thoughts in a different direction. The instant my fingers touched the deck, a fresh image appeared in my mind: Haley and the other witches from Bay Coven.

  Someone was sending me a message.

  I centered myself, tuning out everything but the warm glow of the fire on my face, letting my intuition take the wheel. I shuffled quickly and pulled six cards, placing them face down in two columns of three cards each.

  “Tell me what I need to know,” I said softly.

  I flipped the first two cards at the top of each column, revealing a four-handed Magician performing for an audience of shadows, followed by the reversed King of Swords. The same cards had turned up in Sophie’s last tarot reading—the one she’d shown me in my magical realm after I’d discovered her book of shadows.

  “Hunters,” I said, eyeing the King’s massive sword. But unlike that day with Sophie’s reading, I now realized the cards were speaking about one hunter in particular.

  One whose lips had turned words of love into weapons and curses the day he vowed to burn me alive.

  I was certain he was behind the Bay’s recent string of witch murders and kidnappings. But what was his ultimate plan? Why had he left some alive? Why had he left me alive?

  Swallowing the bile that rose in my throat, I turned the next two cards—Seven of Pentacles and Eight of Swords.

  In the eight, a sinister moon lured a nude woman to an open window, impelling her to lean out. A garden of eight sharp swords bloomed beneath her. One more inch, and she’d fall to a brutal death.

  The seven—a young witch drawing blood from a tree blooming with silver pentacles—was the card that had clued me in a few weeks ago about Sophie practicing witchcraft in secret with the Bay Coven.

  Showing up here with the Eight of Swords, it was clearly a warning.

  “He’s forcing them to do his bidding,” I said, letting the messages wash over me. “He needs them alive, but scared—too scared to run. He needs them to work their magic.”

  The fire popped and sparked, as if confirming my hypothesis.

  I turned it over in my mind. If it were true, it meant that Haley and the others were still alive—that they still had a chance at surviving this thing. But between the options of death and survival, a thousand more possibilities lived… and most of them weren’t good.

  Hastily I turned the bottom two cards—Queen of Swords and Nine of Wands.

  Dressed in robes of gold and red, the fierce queen held two swords, one tipped with blood. It dripped onto the ground before her. Sometimes this card spoke to me of a badass, take-no-prisoners woman getting shit done.

  Tonight? She scared the hell out of me. She was out for blood, and she’d do everything in her power to get it.

  Like the woman in the Eight of Swords, the figure in the Nine of Wands also suggested imprisonment. She sat on a stone pedestal, her head bowed in apparent defeat, a black mask covering most of her face. A staircase marked by eight wooden wands loomed behind her—a possible escape—but it remained hidden from view. The only glimmer of hope came from the ninth wand, flaming like a torch, ready to light her way home.

  I shivered, pulling the blanket tight around my shoulders. The positioning of the bottom two cards worried me. The sword-wielding queen seemed to be threatening the girl on the pedestal, refusing to let her leave.

  “Where are you?” I whispered, brushing my fingers over the Nine of Wands. The girl on the steps seemed so scared, so defeated. I wanted to tell her not to give up. That she wasn’t forgotten or alone. That somehow, she’d be found and brought home and made safe once again.

  I picked up the card for a closer look, and a gust of warm air blew out from the fireplace, stirring my hair.

  A small voice sounded in my head.

  Help us…

  I sucked in a breath. The fear I was sensing in the card suddenly manifested inside me with a heart-wrenching terror that sent real waves of panic cascading through my limbs. Sweat broke out across my forehead, and my chest heaved, my mouth filling with salty air that tasted like the sea. I gulped it in greedily, as if it were the first chance I’d been given to breathe in days.

  Black smoke curled out from behind the flames, reaching for me, drawing me in. The magic inside me stirred in response, and I held out my hands, determined to strengthen the connection despite the discomfort. Smoke twirled and danced around my fingers, caressing me with a warm, inviting touch, calming the dread that had gripped my heart.

  It pulled me from the couch, urging me closer, and I knelt at the hearth again, staring into the fire as some unseen force compelled me to look deeper. To see. To know.

  Images appeared in the flames, frantic and disjointed at first. I held up my hands, and the fire dimmed at my command, the images slowly coming into focus.

  Women and girls. Witches. Dozens of them locked in cold, cramped cells with no windows, no natural light. The glow of magic flickered al
l around them, throwing eerie shadows on the wall.

  The image reminded me of the Magician card.

  The vision zoomed in on a single prison cell, and the girl inside turned to face me, her eyes widening as if she could see me, too.

  “Help us,” she said, her voice weak, yet determined.

  “Where are you?” I shouted, but she was already fading, the flames roaring up once again, taking her away from me.

  “Gray! Her frantic call echoed, the sound of my name in her frightened voice like an arrow to my heart. “Gray!”

  “Gray!”

  The bark of a man’s voice yanked me out of the trance, and I whipped my head toward the sound just in time to see Asher charging at me from across the smoke-filled room in nothing but a towel.

  The fire alarm screeched overhead.

  I’d barely had time to process the visual when he started shouting again

  “Open the damn door!”

  I bolted for the front door and hauled it open, then moved on to the windows.

  Immediately, the smoke began to dissipate.

  Blinking away the last of my confusion, I headed into the kitchen and grabbed the broom, using it to hit the reset button on the smoke alarm.

  The house fell silent once again.

  When I turned around again, Asher was at the fireplace, one hand holding up his towel, the other messing with the damper on the chimney.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  When I didn’t respond, he crossed the room and grabbed my shoulders, peering into my eyes. Despite the frustration in his voice, his face was pinched with worry.

  “Gray,” he said, softer this time. “You looked like you were about to dive right into that fire.”

  I looked at my hands. They were trembling, and it wasn’t because of the smoke.

  “I saw her,” I whispered.

  Asher ducked down to meet my gaze. “Who?”

  “Reva Monroe.”

  Three

  GRAY

  Asher handed me a glass of water, his eyes boring into me like a dad scolding an errant kid. “So now that we can breathe again, you wanna tell me what I walked in on?”

  I dropped onto the sofa and took the glass, holding his gaze as I gulped down the water. He’d managed to put on a pair of sweats, but he was still shirtless, his wet hair dripping into his eyes.

  “Gray?” he pressed. “What was that shit?”

  “I’m pretty sure I was scrying.” I set down the glass and grabbed my book of shadows, flipping through to the section I’d kept on divination techniques. “Calla used to do it with candle flame and mirrors. I took lots of notes, but I never quite got the hang of it.”

  He took the seat next to me and leaned in close, inspecting the sketches I’d made of Calla’s setup.

  “Maybe because you’re using a roaring fire to do the job of a tea light?”

  I braced myself for a lecture, if for no other reason than Asher’s incessant need to pester me. But instead, he draped his arm over the back of the couch behind me, totally calm. Borderline comforting.

  “Tell me exactly what you saw.”

  I closed my eyes, reaching for the parts of the vision that still lingered.

  “There were at least a dozen witches. They were trapped in some kind of prison.”

  “Did you see the hunter?”

  “No, but it’s his doing. I can feel it.” I let the images flicker through my mind, trying to take in every single detail, searching for clues about their exact location. “Reva, the one I connected with? She’s the youngest Bay Coven witch. Norah took her in a while back, but as far as I know, the two of them left town last week. Norah told Haley she wanted to go somewhere safe.” I shook my head. “If what I saw was real, they either didn’t make it out—”

  “Or Norah lied, and handed her over to the hunter.” Asher blew out a breath. “Were you and the kid close?”

  “No, I’d only met her the one time at Norah’s, and we barely spoke.”

  “Are you sure it was her in the flames?”

  “Definitely.” The tarot cards were still spread out on the table, and I glanced down at them now, focusing on the girl in the Nine of Wands. Reva. “She was terrified, Ash.”

  “What else can you tell me?”

  “I swear I could taste the sea,” I said, remembering the saltiness that had filled my mouth right before I’d slipped into the trance. “I heard it, too—like a constant roar, but muffled. Like I said, I think they’re in some kind of prison. No windows. Now that I think about it, it looked like a giant… cave.” I filled in the rest of the details, giving Asher a moment to turn it all over in his mind.

  “This prison,” he finally said. “You think it’s here in Washington?”

  It was a good place to start. I pulled out my phone, flipping to the maps app. “The coast is only two hours from here. And there are plenty of places to disappear out there without anyone noticing.”

  “Two hours… That’s just far enough for the hunter to slip out of range, but close enough he could still zip back into the Bay and grab more witches.” At this, he turned to look at me again, his ocean-blue eyes serious. “Or grab you.”

  “Well, that’s not happening now.” I shook my head, forcing a smile. Anxiety in a situation like ours could easily lead to paranoia, and paranoia was as contagious as a yawn. “I’m out here in the middle of nowhere with my very own demonic bodyguard.”

  Asher nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.

  I broke his gaze, turning to look out the windows at the front of the house. It was pitch black outside, silent but for the occasional rustle of dried leaves in the breeze.

  The logs shifted in the fireplace, sending a cascade of sparks shooting upward, and I flinched.

  “Relax, Cupcake,” Asher said softly, a trace of humor slipping through his concern. “Your demonic bodyguard will keep you safe from all threats, great and small.”

  “I suppose so. After all, you did rush out of the shower to save me from scrying-induced smoke inhalation.”

  “All in a day’s work.”

  “Thank God you had time to grab your towel.” I nudged him in the ribs, trying not to pay too much attention to the drop-dead sexy tattoos snaking across his arms, chest, and abs, disappearing behind his back. Now that most of the wounds from his ordeal in the devil’s trap had healed, the designs stood out much more clearly. They were all done in black ink, no color in sight—a mix of ancient-looking symbols, mesmerizing patterns, and words written in a language that might’ve been Latin. The tattoos on his abs rippled when he laughed.

  “No shit,” he said. “You have a hard enough time keeping your eyes off me as it is.”

  I wonder what it would feel like to touch his stomach...

  “Uh, case in point,” he said.

  Probably smooth and hot, his muscles rock-hard underneath that perfectly painted skin...

  “So basically, you’re saying you want me,” he said. “Right here on the floor, no holds barred. Right?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Uh, Gray?”

  “Mmm?” I blinked, tearing my gaze away from his body and up to his face. “I mean… Wait, what?”

  He cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting for me to catch up.

  His words crashed into me all at once.

  My cheeks flamed.

  Totally busted, I turned away from him, looking out the dark windows again. “Maybe if you weren’t prancing around here half-naked all the time, I wouldn’t have to see your goods on display every five seconds.”

  “Okay, first of all? I don’t prance. Second of all, I don’t fucking prance.”

  I smiled and bit my lower lip, not willing to give him the satisfaction of a full-on laugh.

  Our flirty teasing felt good, though—almost as if we’d broken through another one of the walls between us.

  Not that I was ready to pick out china patterns or anything.

  The brush of Asher’s fingers on the back of
my neck recaptured my attention. His touch was unexpected but not unpleasant, and I waited a beat before facing him, worried the movement would make him stop.

  When I finally turned, he caught me in his gaze. This time neither of us looked away.

  Tell me about her, I wanted to say. The woman who haunts you. The ghost that put that look in your eyes…

  But I couldn’t bring myself to ask about her, and after another beat, he blinked and looked away.

  “What do you want to do about the witches?” he asked. His tone was serious again, but his touch remained gentle, his thumb stroking the side of my neck.

  What did I want to do? That was easy. Grab the keys to Asher’s bike and ride out to the coast, blast apart every hole and haunt and hovel until we found that bastard. Then I’d rip out his throat.

  But going off half-cocked wouldn’t help anyone. Even if what I’d seen in the vision was real—and that was a big if—there was no guarantee it wasn’t a setup. The only thing I really knew about Reva was that Norah had taken her in when she’d had nowhere else to go. Whatever its motivation, kindness like that usually bred loyalty, especially in a city like the Bay.

  I should know. That’s how I’d ended up with my rebels.

  If Ronan or Darius were accused of murdering innocents, would I automatically turn on them? What if I discovered Emilio was a crooked cop? And the dead woman I’d seen in Asher’s memories… what if that had been intentional?

  Would I walk away from him? From any of them?

  My heart ached at the thought.

  Regardless, when it came to tracking down the witches, we had to tread carefully. We needed a solid plan, we needed the element of surprise, and most importantly, we needed the rest of the gang.

  So, despite my instinct to jump in headfirst and think about it later, I said, “We’re not making a move without the guys. I’ll text them later and let them know what I saw, and we’ll take it from there.”

  Asher blew out a breath that sounded an awful lot like relief. “Fair enough.”

  I wondered if he’d been testing me.