Reckless Revenge: Book Four (Spellbound 4) (8 page)

From under the blankets, the muffled chime of the doorbell echoed throughout the house. Groggily, I peeked at the clock. The red eyes blinked: seven.

Oh crap!

I must’ve dozed off while studying for my English test. I untangled my sore legs from the covers, wincing as I sat up. With a whimper and a few curse words, I stumbled toward the closet and quickly threw on some workout clothes.

After letting Trent inside, we went into the kitchen.

“I’ve been thinking…” Trent said, pausing by the basement door. “After seeing lycans attack you
twice
and finding that wolf den, I think we’d better train even harder.”

“As long as I stay clear of the woods, I should be fine.”

“They sniffed you out,
and
they know where you live now.”

I put both hands on my hips. “I’m safe enough in my own house.”

“If lycans can
shift
into human form anytime they want, than they can open a door or a window.” He arched a brow. “Have you never watched a slasher film? The first person who says that they’re safe is always the next one to die!”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t get all huffy. I’ll be more careful.”

Trent seized my upper arms. “Your safety is important to me. I don’t like you acting so reckless, Shiloh.”

I had the urge to tell him about the spell I was doing for Brittany later that night, but swallowed the words. I’d promised to keep it a secret. And by the way, Trent was acting, it would only piss him off and start a big fight.

I lowered my head. “I totally get that. And I’ll try to be more cautious.”

“Good.”

He opened the door to the basement and descended the stairs. I trudged after him, but paused at the last stair and let out a high-pitched scream.

“Spider! Spider! Kill it!” I jumped back up two steps and pointed at the ground near Trent’s feet. “Right there! Get it!”

Trent stared at me. “You want to fight lycans, but you can’t kill a spider? What kind of demon hunter are you?”

I shuddered and grimaced. “The kind that slays anything that doesn’t have a dozen eyes and eight hairy legs!”

Trent shook his head, and then leaned down to push the creepy-crawler onto his palm. “I’ll take it outside.”

I lurched out his way as he went back up the stairs. My boyfriend wasn’t afraid of anything. Me? Not so much.

When he returned, spider free, we circled each other. Pale gray light bled into the room and doused the cement walls. Elongating shadows stretched long and thin over the concrete floor.

“Bring it on, pretty boy,” I said.

I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed the sparring, like I was doing something
real
. Like getting ready to face my dad’s killer.

“Remember, be on your guard at all times,” he warned.

Tensing, I lifted my arm to block the elbow he threw my way. I grabbed his wrist and twisted it sharply, forcing him to turn away from me and allowing my foot to kick him in the butt. Then I resumed a fighting stance and twirled, raising my foot, and aiming for his head. Trent effortlessly blocked my kick, but I caught him by surprise with an uppercut.

“Impressive.” He massaged his jaw. “You’re spry for a girl.”

“For a girl?
Humph
.”

“But you’re tensing up. You shouldn’t be worrying about the lycans or avenging your dad while we’re training,” he advised.

But vengeance was the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart.

“Try to concentrate. Relax,” he said.

“Relax, my ass.”

Throwing a quick punch, I followed it through with a hard left hook. He countered by flipping me over his shoulder. My backside smacked the padded mat. I grimaced, the impact rocketing up my spine. Getting to me feet, I retook my stance. His jaw clamped while he calculated his next move.

We danced around each other. Shoulders hunched. Muscles taut. Arms extended. He rushed me like a bear and threw a series of punches that all missed their mark. I dodged each one.

Huffing, I kicked the back of his knee, and he fell onto his hands. Then I raised my leg and kicked him in the backside with my foot. His face struck the mat and he yelped. Backing off a fraction, I waited for him to get to his feet.

In a blur of motion, he grabbed me by the ankles and knocked me on my butt. He snickered. “Told you to concentrate.”

“Shut up.”

Trent stood and offered me a hand. I took it and he hoisted me to my feet.

After dusting myself off, I whipped around, but my fist collided with air.
Dammit.
I didn’t even see him move. One moment he stood beside me and the next, the air rippled, and he was across the room. He moved forward again lightning fast. I lurched backward, my spine hitting the wall. I was trapped. His palms struck the wall, resting on either side of my face, his wrists touching my shoulders. He leaned toward me with his nose hovering inches from mine, and his minty breath ghosting over my cheeks.

Oh, my god. He was getting faster
.
Like,
inhumanly
fast.

“This isn’t working.” I looked up at him. “I’m not as quick as you.”

“Now you’re just being whiny.”

I glared at him. “I’m allowed to be whiny. My dad died, remember?”

He straightened and lowered his arms. “I lost someone I loved, too. And I know what you’re going through, but you can’t let yourself wallow in grief—it isn’t healthy. I realized after my sister died that trying to avoid the harsh reality of death is stupid. You can’t escape it. Only except it.”

Accept my dad’s murder? Not likely.

“Maybe I
like
wallowing in gloominess,” I mumbled.

“Maybe I’m not gonna let you.” Trent stared at me. “I get it. You’re angry. I felt the same way after Madison’s funeral.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “The pain
will
pass, Shiloh, and we can ride it out together.”

Trent’s words melted my heart. I sighed. “You’re right. My dad would’ve wanted me to stay strong.”

“And train your ass off, so the same thing that happened to Kayla and your dad doesn’t happen to
you
.” Trent moved away and grabbed his water bottle. “You may not be as strong as a lycan, but you sure as hell can outsmart one. Or you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“I’m just trying to keep it together, Trent.” I clenched my jaw, gnashing my teeth together. “Why are you giving me a lecture?”

“Because I don’t want you to rush into doing anything stupid, like trying to fight the lycan alone. You’re not ready, mentally or physically.”

“That’s why you’re here,” I said. “What’s the problem with being proactive?”

“Because you’re not ready to get proactive. That’s what’s wrong. You’re barely ready for anything right now. And you’ve got your ass handed to you twice by the lycans.”

“That’s precisely the point of being proactive! So I’ll be ready the next time the sucker shows its ugly wolf face.” My hands fisted. “Why else do you think I’m doing all this training? For kicks?”

“Honestly, I think you’re doing it because it’s simpler than dealing with what you’re really feeling.”

“Which is?”

“Blind hated and vengeance.”

Gee, was I that transparent?

“You must think I’m being stubborn or stupid…”

“Quite the contrary,” he said, gazing into my eyes. “I think you’re amazing.”

I faintly smiled. “You do?”

“Every time, I’m with you.” He gently brushed his knuckles down the side of my face. “Now let’s get back to work.”

After two more hours of training, the falls no longer hurt. I could roll away from an assault and bounce to my feet, prepared to defend myself. If I made a mistake, I learned from it and although I was exhausted and bruised, I endured. If Trent flung me, I stood poised seconds after I hit the mat.

“You’re doing great. I’m impressed.” Trent rested his palms on his knees, breathing fast. He straightened, then flexed his arms and rolled his shoulders. Joints popped and relaxed. He threw me a towel.

I dabbed the sweat beading my skin, then draped the towel over my shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d ever get it right.
Real
kickboxing is hard, but now I’ll be more prepared the next time I face the lycan.”

Trent nodded, and then wiped at his face and neck with a towel resting on a the little table in the corner where our water bottles sat. His forehead was damp, but he didn’t even look fatigued. Unlike me.

He set the towel down. “I wanna show you a few more moves before we finish up.”

We circled each other again. I raised my hands, primed for battle. I struck out with my fists, but Trent blocked my jabs fast and easily, until I launched a high kick at his chest. He caught my foot and spun me in midair. To stabilize what would’ve been a painful tumble, I did a somersault, then got back into position.

Trent nodded with approval, letting the unspoken compliment sink in before he attacked again. Blocking his fists, I executed a perfect butterfly kick. My foot made contact, and Trent slumped to the floor.
Yes!
With a crooked smile, he grabbed my ankles and jerked me down.
No!
I landed on my butt and the air swooshed from my lungs.

“If I’d wanted to be swept off my feet, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” I teased.

“What are you saying? That sparring and romance don’t mix?” Trent helped me up. “Because I think it does. All this sweaty one-on-one action and breathing hard—”

“Stop with the sexual innuendos!” Rolling my eyes, I pirouetted away from him and crouched into a fighting stance. “Can you show me that kick—”

He moved blurry fast and gripped my upper arms. Instead of showing me more of his fighting moves, he kissed me crazy hard. My knees buckled. Passion ignited between us as the kiss intensified. His fingers cradled my head, knotting in my hair. He kissed me long and deep, his hands slid to my waist, anchoring me against him. It was nice being in his arms, as if he was a barricade between me and everything bad that had happened since my dad had died. That’s what I liked best about his insanely passionate kisses. In his arms, with his lips fastened to mine, his presence eclipsed the hurt, eased the heartache. Finally, we parted, but continued clinging to each other.

“I can’t seem to keep my hands off you,” he said in a husky voice.

Still experiencing warm tingles, I stared up at him. “Uh, wow.” I dragged a hand over my lips. “Stop distracting me, I need to train” —I gestured at the gym equipment— “before the big lycan brawl. I don’t want another death on my hands because I wasn’t prepared…you know, like the last time.”

Trent moved away from me and stared at the floor, his expression unreadable. “Oh, you mean like what happened to Madison…or your dad?”

Among others who’d been hurt or killed since meeting me. The list kept getting longer.

“Well, yeah.” Biting my lip, I asked a question I’d been curious about for some time. “Did you ever talk to your dad about that stuff between our parents? Because everyone heard my aunt blabbering about their hot love affair at your party.”

The entire room seemed to chill with a wintry blast. Talk about a mood killer. My questions filled the air with tension and unease. I mentally cringed. Insert foot into mouth. Obviously, our parents’ adultery was a hot button.

Trent raised his head. His expressive face, which usually only displayed passion and fire, revealed nothing. His blank stare was like a switch inside him had been flicked off at the mention of that awful night, when my aunt Darrah and his father’s love child had fallen down the stairs at Craven Manor and broken her neck.

Trent’s body stiffened. “Yeah. But it didn’t go well. He refused to even discuss it.”

He had a tense, complex relationship with his family. After his mother died, his dad had dumped him in boarding school. I didn’t even think they spent vacations together. His dad was a selfish jerk. At least he had his uncle, like I had my mom.

“I know, the whole thing’s a complicated mess.” I sighed. “My sucky life resembles some drama-induced V. C. Andrews’s novel now.”

His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides. “I really don’t want to talk about it…
or
my father, okay?” Trent’s pupils dilated. The whites vanished and his gaze became completely black. He stood rigid, staring into space with that emotionless, obsidian gaze. It wasn’t natural—wasn’t
normal
.

I stared, frozen. My heartbeat acted like a mosh pit. All crazy and out of control.

“Hey, you okay?” I asked, my voice wobbly.

Trent seemed lost to something dark. Horrible. His barely visible aura burned in hues of night and vermilion, so far removed from humanity it wasn’t even related anymore. Trent must’ve been infected with demonic blood like me. There was no other explanation. Esael had somehow poisoned him, too.

“Trent?” Like a magnet pulling it out of me, I sensed the
Darkness
living within me uncoiling. Somehow in direct response to Trent’s black gaze. “Hey, are you all right?” No answer. I moved forward and shook his arm, but it felt like touching a marble statue. Nothing. “Trent!” I slapped his face.

The hard slap whipped his chin to the side. A red handprint stained his cheek. Some sense came back into that onyx gaze. When his eyes found mine, his stare was soft emerald again. His pupils normal.

He massaged his cheek. “Ow. What did you do that for?”

“Sorry, but you went all black eyes on me again!”

“
Again
? What are you babbling about now?”

“Your eyes, Trent. You zone out and your eyes turn black. Its über creepy. Remember how we talked about your anger issues?”

He blinked, focusing on a spot over my head. “Yeah…”

“There has to be a reason why this is happening to you.” My chest ached. I had to know. No more pretending this wasn’t real. I hitched a breath, and then asked, “Do you have any scars on your body? Your arms?”

He tilted his head, curiosity all over his face. “No. Why?”

“Push up your sleeves.”

He rolled up each sleeve and I examined his arms. Nothing. Zilch.

“Take off your shirt,” I said.

“Ohhh, this sounds fun,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eye.