Wicked Secrets Read online

  *

  She was still shaky when she got back to the dorms and she was glad that Sherry was out. There was no way she wanted to explain what was wrong to anyone just yet. First she needed a shower; her hair was tangled, her clothes were muddy and she was sure there was blood around her mouth and all over the side of her head.

  She grabbed clean clothes and stormed into the shower, locking the door and turning up the heat of the spray of water so it was almost scalding hot. She took a look at herself in the mirror and flinched at her reflection. Hell, she looked like she’d been in a car crash or something. The scarlet blood caked the right side of her face, and lighter blood surrounded her mouth like the paint of a clown face. She wiped that away quickly, shivering at the image of a clown that came to mind – it was a big phobia of hers after all. Her hair was windblown and messy and she ran her fingers through it to loosen the knots. When that didn’t work she gave up and sighed, peeling back her lip to expose her upper teeth. They were stained red, like she’d been eating strawberries.

  “You are not Owen’s Soulmate. You are not Owen’s Soulmate,” she murmured to her reflection, half-expecting it to talk back, half-hoping that if she said it enough it would be true. But the girl in the mirror just looked solemnly back at her with tired blue eyes and a frown.

  Ember sighed again and stripped off, tossing her dirty clothes into the wash-basket in the corner of the bathroom. Maybe the steam would clear her head and let her think. Or maybe it’d just clean the leaves from her hair. Either way, it was a start.

  Chapter Eleven

  ** Ember **

  That night, Ember was restless. She tossed and turned in her bed, waiting for sleep to come to her, waiting for the uncomfortable knots in her stomach and the uneasiness in her heart to go away. She knew she shouldn’t feel uneasy in her heart, and that was making her uneasy in her head, which, in turn, made her stomach more knotted. It was a tiring cycle that, ironically, kept her awake.

  She cared about Reid – there was another word lingering in the back of her mind but she couldn’t force herself to think it – more than she’d ever cared about a boy in her life, and she would hate herself if she hurt him. And yet, magic dictated that she be bound to Owen through a rare, centuries-old blood link that neither of them really understood.

  Well, damn it. Would she ever catch a break? Ember shuffled her pillow and turned over yet again, sighing and grunting in irritation. She just wanted to sleep, let the grating thoughts melt away so she could relax. But tonight her mind wouldn’t allow it, buzzing insanely with no off switch.

  Fine then, what was to say she had to go along with what her history, what her magic, said she should? She didn’t want Owen, didn’t know him, didn’t care about him the way she did for Reid. So why should she bother paying any attention to some vague, bizarre, ancient principle? She could ignore it. It made no difference to how she felt about Reid, or how she felt about Owen. All she had to do was ignore her unfortunate blood.

  *****

  The dream started much like any other, with just her and Owen standing in her room. She groaned inwardly; she’d thought she was done with these dreams. But she soon realised it wasn’t the usual kind of dream she’d gotten used to. Owen looked like himself, not like the dark and criminal version she’d seen him as until only a few days ago. Could it have been only few days? It felt like weeks ago.

  That wasn’t what tipped her off to the difference of this dream. It was Owen’s actions that quickly put the dream into context. He kissed her – not that that was different; he kissed her in every dream – but the way he kissed her, so tender, so passionate. That was different to the rough stolen kisses of her other dreams. And the thing was, she didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to.

  When he deepened the kiss, pushing her back onto the bed so she lay flat on her back, she didn’t object. Even when, with his mouth working on her neck, he slid his hands under her t-shirt and tugged it off, she just wanted him to keep going. Soft black hair brushed her jaw as he stroked her collarbone. There was familiar tingling on her skin and a burning in her stomach, and she knew there was some reason she should stop him but she couldn’t recall it. He brought his mouth back to hers, and she twined her fingers in his dark hair…

  “Ember!”

  *****

  Ember jerked awake, panting and sweating, shaking.

  “Ember, jeez, are you okay? You’ve been tossing and turning and muttering for ten minutes. Bad dream?” Sherry’s gentle voice floated through the dim room and she turned blind eyes in her friend’s direction.

  “You could say that. What was I muttering?” She really didn’t want to know what she’d been muttering considering the contents of her twisted dream.

  “I don’t know. But something must be bugging you. I mean, is it to do with Reid or Owen or just your bizarre life in general?” Sherry asked, adding a light lilt to the end of the question. Ember flinched when she said Owen’s name and was grateful Sherry couldn’t see so well in the dark.

  “It’s…” Ember started, suddenly wanting to rattle out the story of what had happened that afternoon and the conclusion Owen had come to. But she bit her tongue. If she said it, if she told Sherry, that would make it somehow more real. She couldn’t handle that. She could, and would, ignore it. She would pretend it had never happened. She would pretend the dream never happened. That wasn’t her fault, it was Owen’s. He messed with her dreams… he was actually in them!

  That thought struck her hard and she blushed in horror. He’d been in her head, making the dream take that turn. In the real world, when he woke up, he’d know she hadn’t resisted him. He’d know she hadn’t wanted him to stop.

  But that wasn’t true! She had no control in her dreams. He had the control...right? What if she was wrong? What if… No, she didn’t want to think about it. She swallowed the humiliation rising in her throat, and felt her face burning, eyes stinging. Jesus, what if he told Reid?

  Ember didn’t realise her breathing had been creeping steadily faster with panic until Sherry put a hand on her arm and shook her. “Ember?” Sherry said tensely. Ember took a deep breath and stared at Sherry’s pale form in the darkness. Her expression was clearly worried.

  “I’m okay. It was just…a really bad nightmare. It freaked me out.” Ember hated lying to her best friend but there was no help for it at this point. Changing the subject hastily, she asked, “What time is it?”

  Sherry hesitated, frowning in the darkness. “A little after three. Are you sure you’re okay? You look really shaken.” Sherry sat down next to her, a soothing hand still on her arm.

  “Yeah, it was just a nightmare. Clowns, you know. Super scary phobia stuff,” she said dismissively. More lies. Sherry seemed convinced though, nodding and moving off the bed. But when Ember got up too, Sherry paused.

  “Where’re you going?” she asked, puzzled. Ember knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep again with that dream still floating fresh in her mind. She needed to do something, go somewhere. She needed to assuage the guilt she felt at having a dream like about Owen – even if he had created it.

  She needed to see Reid. Right now. She needed to replace the feeling of Owen’s mouth on her lips, Owen’s hands on her body.

  “I’m just going to go for a wander. Calm my nerves a bit. I’ll be back soon.”

  Nodding, Sherry got back in bed and turned over, facing away from Ember.

  Mentally kicking herself and promising she’d make it up to Sherry for lying to her, Ember glanced in the mirror; she looked okay. A little tired, a little wild, but not like she’d just had a dirty dream about another guy who was definitely not her boyfriend.

  She snatched a thin grey cardigan, slipped out the door and headed to Reid’s room.

  *

  She reached the door and paused, a problem revealing itself. Ricky. Damn. Why did there always have to be a roommate? She would have to hope he wasn’t a light sleeper. She really didn’t want to have to explain to him why she was
waking Reid up in the middle of the night. There had to be somewhere else she and Reid could go…Oh! The library. It was closed this late, and it was never locked. Nobody would be there. It was perfect. Not wanting to risk waking Ricky by knocking, Ember opened the door and slipped in, closing it carefully behind her.

  The room was dark and she could hear Ricky’s soft snoring from the far bed. She crept to Reid’s bed and hesitated, staring down at his sleeping form. His duvet was a crumpled mess around his legs, exposing his bare, exquisite chest. Butterflies kicked at her stomach, and she wavered, no longer sure she was bold enough...then she remembered the feeling of Owen’s hands gripping her waist in the dream, and her stomach turned over with a mix of disgust and guilt.

  Sucking a careful breath, she stole a glance at the sleeping Ricky, and gently touched Reid’s arm. His skin was surprisingly cool. He stirred a little at her touch, his lashes fluttering as if he was dreaming. Biting her lip, she nudged his arm again, but he didn’t move. With a sigh, she knelt by the bed, putting her lips close to his ear, and whispered, “Reid. Reid, wake up.”

  His eyes flew open and he gasped, jerking back against the wall. A low hiss escaped his open mouth as he bared his fangs at her, his eyes glowing a cold blue in the darkness.

  Ember leaned back on her heels, eyes wide in surprise. She held her hands up. “Shh! It’s me. Reid, it’s me.”

  He blinked, finally recognising her, and his fangs melted away. A crease formed between his eyebrows, and he tilted his head, confused. “Ember? What are you doing in here?”

  She squirmed, hoping he couldn’t see her blush in the darkness. He leaned forward, reaching out to sweep the back of his fingers across her cheek. “What? What is it?”

  Nervous and embarrassed, she chewed her lip, unwilling to tell him precisely what was wrong. She settled for a half-truth. “I had a bad dream.” It sounded childish to her own ears, but Reid’s expression relaxed and he smiled softly.

  He shifted back on the bed and patted the mattress, his expression hopeful. She gave him a pointed look. He grinned. “Don’t worry, I promise to keep my hands to myself. Sleeping only.”

  Unbelievably tempted, Ember eyes the bed with both longing and extreme apprehension, she finally shook her head. As much as she trusted him to keep his promise, she just couldn’t bring herself to get into his bed. “Could we just go somewhere else for a little while? I don’t want to go back to sleep just yet,” she said tentatively, expecting him to be annoyed that she’d woken him up just to drag him out of his bed.

  But he didn’t look annoyed – just curious. He nodded. “Okay.” He flipped the covers back the rest of the way, sliding his legs over the side of the bed, and Ember realised he wasn’t wearing pyjama bottoms – just boxers. Blushing, she looked away hastily, getting to her feet. Reid chuckled. She ducked her head. “I’ll just wait outside,” she murmured, slinking toward the door. She half-expected him to stop her, but he just nodded.

  In the dark hallway, Ember bounced up and down on her toes anxiously, the carpeting rough under her bare toes. She didn’t have to wait long before Reid stepped out, now wearing a shirt and a pair of joggers, and shut the door carefully behind him. He turned to face her, his blonde hair sticking up wildly. She had the urge to run her fingers through it. “So, where are going exactly?” he asked, taking her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. A flutter went through her chest.

  “I thought we could go to the library,” she whispered, staring at their twined hands.

  He was silent a moment, and she could feel him looking down at her. She glanced up to see his expression. He looked thoughtful. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just wanted to get me alone,” he murmured, smiling.

  She looked away so he wouldn’t see the redness of her cheeks. “Come on, before someone catches us lingering in the hallway. People will talk.”

  “People already talk,” he pointed out.

  “True,” she said reluctantly, “But I’d rather not give them any more fuel.”

  Reid made a disappointed noise and she almost laughed. Trying not to smile, she tugged at his hand and began towing him down the hallway.

  *

  The library was huge and dark and just a little creepy. The moonlight slanted through the closed blinds, casting ghostly shadows amongst the tall aisles of books. Ember dragged Reid to the furthest corner; an area blocked in by two high wooden bookcases, filled with classic novels. There were four low, comfy chairs crammed together along the wall and a square table in the middle of the private space.

  Once they were safely tucked into the dim, book-lined alcove that smelled of ink and paper and love stories, Ember curled her legs up next to her on the seat, toying with the hem of her tank top. Reid leaned back in the chair next to her, casually stretching his arms along the back of the row. He brushed his fingers against the nape of her neck, and she fought not to shiver.

  A frown in his voice, he asked quietly, “What was your dream about?”

  Images flashed through her head swiftly, and she was unutterably glad that Reid couldn’t read her mind. She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay. What would you like to talk about?”

  She thought about it, opened her mouth, and closed it again. Truthfully, she didn’t want to talk. Talking wouldn’t help erase the dream from her mind. What she wanted – what she needed – was much simpler. Sucking up every ounce of courage she had, she turned to Reid and lifted her fingers to his face, tracing the line of his cheekbone and the shape of his mouth. His lips parted with a soft breath of surprise, his eyes darkening. He leaned forward, bringing his arms around her gently.

  “So you did just want to get me alone after all,” he whispered, a smile curving his lips. She blushed, even as she reached up to twine her arms around his neck. Tentatively, she drew her fingertips lightly down the back of his neck, and he tensed, his breath shuddering. He looked down at her with dark, hooded eyes, alight with anticipation and excitement. But he didn’t move; he stayed perfectly still, letting her set the pace.

  Her heart was hammering so hard she knew he could hear it, and there was a nest of bats in her stomach. She was about thirty seconds away from losing her nerve and apologising for dragging him out of bed in the middle of the night. So, before she could overthink what she was doing, she closed her eyes and pulled Reid’s mouth down to hers.

  His lips fell on hers lightly at first, almost uncertain, as if he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t dreaming, but even the butterfly-light sweep of his lips over hers left her breathless. Relaxing into him, she pressed closer, sinking her fingers into his hair just the way she knew he liked. His fingers pressed more tightly into her back, the pressure of his mouth on hers increasing. She could feel the hardness of his body, the warmth of his skin through his t-shirt.

  Ember broke from the kiss for just long enough to shrug her cardigan off her shoulders. Realising what she was doing, Reid released her and slid the cardigan down her arms, tossing it onto one of the low seats.

  He turned back to her, and his gaze fell. She saw his throat move as he swallowed, his eyes drinking in the sight of her skin, exposed by the thin, white camisole she was wearing. It was startlingly low-cut, and the hem danced around just above her belly button. It was part of a pyjama set she’d gotten for her sixteenth birthday from a friend back home, as a sort of joke, because everyone knew she was a prude and would never wear something like it. Only since she started going out with Reid had she found the confidence to wear it, but he’d never seen it…until now. And judging by the look on Reid’s face, he liked it. “What the hell are you wearing?” he rumbled in rough, quiet voice, and she blushed, tugging at the hem of the camisole anxiously.

  “Nothing. I mean, it’s just…I just sleep in this sometimes,” she murmured shyly, glancing at him through her lashes. His eyes were very bright in the dimness, his hair tousled from her tangling her fingers in it. Even at three am he was gorgeous. He was a pale angel dro
pped into the dim, dusty world of cracked spines and words waiting on shelves to be read. A small, dangerous smile curved his perfect lips and he said, “If I’d known this was what you slept in, I’d have been having some interesting dreams of my own.”

  Ember hid a smile, a little bit pleased. Reid reached for her, his fingers hovering an inch from the exposed skin of her waist as he glanced at her for approval. She bit her lip, and then he was touching her, his hands skimming across her waist, his fingers leaving a trail of sparks across her skin. She sucked in a breath as he slid his hands up her ribs, stopping when his thumbs brushed the line of her bra. Then he leaned forward and kissed her hard, his mouth bruising hers, and she was swallowed whole by flames burning her from the inside out. All that mattered were his hands on her body and the taste of desire on his lips and the aching longing building deep in the pit of her stomach. She was spinning, spinning, burning and melting, out of control.

  She moaned low in her throat, her fingers finding their way under his shirt and skittered over the ridges of his body. Reid pulled back suddenly, startling her. She opened her eyes, frowning. “What?” she asked, her voice breathless.

  He stared at her for a second, and then closed his eyes. “God, Ember, do not make that noise again – I’m begging you,” he murmured, his voice husky.

  Ember felt her brow furrow and then realised what he meant. The tips of her ears must have gone pink. She asked in a quiet voice, “Why not?” He opened his eyes, blazing blue, and licked his lips slowly. “Because I’m already very, very close to doing something I shouldn’t, and if you make that sound again, I’m going to lose it.”

  Ember’s eyes widened, and she squeaked, “Oh.” A half-smile twitched at his lips. “Yes, oh. You overestimate my self-control. You’re pushing it, Emz, really pushing it.” His eyes fell to her skimpy camisole again, and a look that was half pain and half pleasure crossed his face. He looked away, letting out a slow breath to steady himself, but his fingers were tight on her waist.