Phoenixfire: A paranormal reverse harem romance (The Rogue Witch Book 8) Read online

  “You’re probably right,” he said, leaning down to kiss me once more.

  “I’m almost always right.”

  He hmmm’d lightly in agreement, even as he pulled away with a sigh. My lips were tingling. Was it because they were werewolves? Would I always feel this way? My relationship with Creston had been butterflies and excitement… at the very beginning. But that had worn off, fast. I needed to ask Chelsea. She’d know more about how I was feeling, being long-mated to her glory, and how best to put my feelings into words. It really made me wonder how she and the glory had gotten together.

  “Darce, there you are.” Chelsea, like she’d heard my thoughts, stopped into the green room. “C’mon, I’ve got something for you to wear on stage.” She grabbed my upper arm and yanked me forward. I yipped as I went. It was either that, or fall over. She was surprisingly strong for someone so thin.

  “Where’re we going?” I asked as she marched me down the dimly lit corridor. Stage crew and venue staff ducked out of our way. Maybe it was the look of absolute panic on my face, or the serene, yet manic, expression of calm on Chelsea’s.

  “My dressing room,” she said, turning a corner to another row of doors. True to her word, one of them had a piece of paper with her name printed on it. She pushed the door open. I followed her inside.

  “There is no way I’m letting you get on that stage looking anything less than amazing,” she said, turning to me. “Not that you don’t look great-” She grimaced at her accidental insult.

  “No, I get what you mean,” I said with a sigh. The only problem? Most of my clothing was more fit for sitting in a tour bus or hiding out backstage. Scruffy jeans, yoga pants, and comfy t-shirts were stuffed into my backpack, wrinkled and sad. Chelsea smiled, seeming to know my thoughts before I could voice them.

  “Remember I’d said I’d loan you? I got you, girl,” she said, turning to the clothing rack that was next to the far wall. The dressing room was cozy, with a brick wall on one side and a brightly lit mirrored table with makeup strewn across it on the other. “Let’s make you gorgeous,” she said. “What do you think of this?” She pulled apart the hangers, fishing out a mid-length dress in sparkly purple, skintight, jersey knit.

  I tried not to make a face.

  “I’m not sure that’ll fit-” I said, glancing down at myself. I was curvy, Chelsea definitely wasn’t. I didn’t want to look bad on stage, and anything skintight was not going to be my best friend under the bright lights. I didn’t want to offend her by saying no to all of her suggestions, though.

  “Ugh, you’re right,” she said with a tilt of her head, surveying me carefully. “But you’d look so good in this under the lights.”

  I tried not to make a face, but, from Chelsea’s expression, I wasn’t hiding my feelings all that well.

  “I know you’re not comfortable,” she said with a brief smile. “But trust me, you look way better than you think you do. We always have a distorted view of ourselves.”

  “Even you?” I asked. C’mon, she was a unicorn. Did unicorns have bad mental health days and body dysmorphia?

  “Even I think my butt is too big, occasionally,” she said with a shrug. “It happens to the best of us.”

  “And the rest of us,” I muttered. She giggled, the noise silvery and sweet, just like the rest of her.

  “C’mon, be kinder to yourself. You’ve only got one life, you may as well live it.” She shook the hanger, the sparkly purple dress glittering in the light from her vanity mirror.

  “I can live it in something that isn’t going to make me look like an angry sausage stuffed into pantyhose,” I said flatly. “Anything less, um, clingy?”

  “Well, I guess it would be a bad idea if the guys were so turned on by you that they ripped off your clothing in the middle of the stage. I mean, I’m a fan of performance art, but even that’s a bit extra… Oh my god, don’t look so horrified, Darcy. Don’t turn prudish on me now.” She pulled out another dress, this one was more my size. It was purple and glittery all around the hem (I think she had a thing for glitter), with a sweetheart neckline, and flared skater skirt. A band of black organza cinched in around the waist, which was pretty enough, and shimmered in it’s own, muted, way. It was just flashy enough. I liked it.

  “Sold,” I said, holding out my hand. “That’s something I can get behind-”

  “And it’ll make your behind look nice.” She passed me the dress with a smile, before sitting on the edge of her vanity. “I’ll close my eyes, and you can get dressed. I promise I won’t peek. Not even a little.”

  The thick fabric of the dress was a godsend, because I was sweaty and nervous. Thankfully, it didn’t show. I looked as cool as a cucumber. A nervous cucumber on death row, but, still, a cucumber. Dean hovered close by as we stood backstage, my guys killing it under the lights. The music was intense. With each strike of Cash’s drumsticks, I could feel the solid thump and thud pulsing in the bond-bites the guys had left on me.

  Dean’s hand came down on my shoulder, warm and comforting.

  “You doing okay?” he asked. I smiled up at him, trying not to let my nerves show.

  “My father’s back from the dead, people want to kill us again, and half of the fanbase hates my guts, but I think I’m okay,” I said, spilling out my feelings before I could really stop myself. Dean grimaced and then swept me into a tight, brief hug.

  “None of that is good shit,” he said quietly into my hairline. I nodded in agreement, and sighed when he let me go. At least we didn’t feel so alone anymore. It helped that Chelsea and the guys from Glory Rev were with us. With them, we had an extra group of eyes. I knew they had my guys’ backs, and could be counted on in the case of a fight. The Glory Rev boys were all lean muscle and hardened attitudes. I just knew, deep down in my bones, that they’d die for Phoenixcry, just like Phoenixcry would sacrifice themselves for Glory Rev. It didn’t need to be said. It just was.

  Their friendship had taken root the night Chelsea whammied Max and me, and it had only grown stronger as time went on. Now, being on tour and enmeshed in each other’s lives the way we were? I felt like our friendship was more family than anything else. Nothing could tear us apart.

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” Dean said, his voice soothing and smooth. I snuck a peek out at the audience watching my guys, their glittering eyes rapt in the light of the stage, up-turned faces eager, and out-stretched hands desperate to get closer to the band. “Life has a way of just working itself out. As long as you can survive it.”

  “Surviving seem to be the hard part,” I commented.

  “Preach, girl,” he said, so dryly that it startled a sudden laugh out of me. I clapped my hand over my mouth, even though the sound of the band was way louder than any noise I could’ve made.

  A light touch from behind on my shoulder made me jerk. Dean spun, grabbing me and shoving himself in front of me out of instinct.

  It was Craig. He held up a hand.

  “Whoa, hey, it’s just me,” he said. Dean narrowed his eyes. Dean knew Craig was hanging around, but he wasn’t happy about it. None of the unicorns were. They weren’t exactly forgiving sort of creatures, I’d found out. “We got trouble,” Craig said, before Dean could speak. “Hunters are on the ground outside the venue. If we don’t take care of it quickly and quietly, we’re going to have a bloodbath on our hands. There are three that I’ve seen, and I don’t think they care about getting found out, not if they’re coming at us in a big venue like this.”

  “Nobody’s going to risk a confrontation in front of such a huge crowd,” Dean said, “the exposure is too big-”

  “They’ll blame it on something else—terrorism, or anything—at this point,” Craig interrupted him with a shake of his head. “I’ve been worried about something like this since the attacks in Paris happened. Civil unrest in the mundane world is a great excuse to start shooting up public venues without calling attention to the real reason they’re here.”

  “The guys have no i
dea,” I said, glancing out at the stage. Time seemed to slow down. We couldn’t interrupt the set, that would just set off alarms, if hunters were watching.

  “Can you keep them safe?” Craig asked Dean. “If you guys surround the sides, backstage, they can’t be ambushed.”

  Dean chewed on his lip, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  “And you?”

  “With Darcy. We can go scout; start picking them off one by one,” Craig offered. Dean scowled.

  “You’re not taking her anywhere we can’t see her,” he said, shooting me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

  “Do we really have time for this discussion right now?” I asked, feeling exposed in a dress. I wanted to be back in my jeans and t-shirt, not wearing fancy booties, but something more sensible, like Doc Martens or Vans. A rising swell of panic was threatening to close off my throat. Just when I thought I was safe, we were safe, those small defenses came tumbling down again.

  “We need to find some way of drawing the hunters off,” I said, my mind ticking through the possibilities. “What do they want more than the band? If my father’s sent them, they’re going to want to get to me.”

  I swallowed. I didn’t want to be bait. It was a stupid idea. I knew that before I’d even said it. But there was a huge crowd of kids out there, and they didn’t deserve to have their lives put at risk because of my family and their stupid blood vendetta.

  “What… what if you go to them, Craig, and you take me with you?” I asked, ignoring the way Dean growled under his breath at the suggestion. “They still trust you, right?”

  “I don’t know these guys, I just know that they’re here,” Craig said. I don’t know if they’d recognize you on sight.”

  “We have to try,” I said. “How much time do you think we have before they get into the venue?”

  “I saw some near the front of the line at security, so, a few minutes, maybe? Less than ten,” Craig said.

  “This is a really fucking bad idea, Darcy,” Dean said.

  “We’re running out of options,” I replied. “You’re right, it’s a terrible idea. So either come up with something better, or just watch my back.”

  Dean stared at me, our gazes sharp on one another, before he looked away with a frustrated sigh.

  “Alright,” he said softly, “let me go let the rest of Glory Rev know. Don’t-” He lifted up a finger and pointed at Craig. “Don’t go anywhere until I’m back.”

  He disappeared into the shadows backstage, a curl of smoke from the fog machine chasing after him.

  Craig sighed.

  “You might want to change outta that,” he said, looking at my dress.

  “Yeah,” I murmured, my nerves fizzing under my skin. “Yeah, I think I’ll go do that right now.”

  14

  Darcy

  “Now, you guys know that we love you, and there’s nothing else in the world we’d rather be doing than spending this night with you-” Finn’s voice echoed, tinny and bright down the back hallway as I walked quickly behind Craig. My Vans scuffed on the tile floor, dread pulsing in my heart with each step.

  We had so few choices. Knock the power out to the venue—something I was pretty sure I could pull off—and take the hunters by surprise? Risky. Really risky.

  I couldn’t get up on that stage. That would make me into such a visible target, and anything that happened to me would look to the entire mundane world like just an attack from a crazed fan of the band.

  We’d inadvertently given the people who wanted us dead a perfect cover story. I’d never be able to forgive myself for that. Not if innocent people got caught in the crossfire.

  My thoughts raced as I tagged after Craig. Dean was right behind me, and Seth was with him, another set of backup muscle. Hopefully, we wouldn’t need it. Dean came up with the bright idea of having security pull the hunters that Craig identified, under the guise of secondary search or getting them to the front of the line… when, really, they’d be getting shoved along into a back alley face-off with us.

  I hoped to scare the shit out of them, so they’d take off and never bother us again. They needed to go back to where they’d come from.

  It was a loose, not really well-fleshed-out plan, but what were our other options? Pull the fire alarm and let the venue get cleared out because of that?

  As we pushed out into the open air, Craig held the emergency exit door for me. I started to second-guess myself. Pulling the fire alarm would have probably been the better option. Cool air washed over my skin and chilled the back of my throat. I inhaled deeply, my whole body shivering with the anticipation of a fight.

  I had to believe in myself.

  I had to believe in us.

  “Where are they?” Seth asked, his dark eyes black in the low light outside the venue. Craig made a low noise of irritation and turned to me, grabbing me and hauling me up against his body.

  “Wh-whoa!” the startled exclamation burst out of me. Seth growled.

  “The fuck, man?” he demanded as Craig spun, shoving me away.

  “Run,” he snapped, his eyes bright. I stumbled into Seth, Dean reaching for me. The reason became clear a second later when a woman, her blond hair braided tight to her skull, seemed to appear out of nowhere, a long blade flashing in her hand.

  A fleeting thought skittered through my brain—how had Craig known she’d be there? Before I could take another breath, Craig grabbed her by the arm, twisting it up behind her back. She dropped the blade with a grunt and a clatter, bending forward and yanking him over her shoulder.

  “Take her down,” Dean’s words echoed in my ear as I shot my hand forward, the power crackling along my arm, spinning outward and arching through the air toward her. Her head jerked up, her eyes going white as I hit her right in the chest with enough power to jolt her.

  Craig rolled to his feet, breathing roughly as the woman crumpled, muscles seizing up. My fist clenched, the threads of lightning snapping off. The bang and pop of them in my head made my skin prickle.

  Craig reached for her before Seth could, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her off the ground, her feet dangling uselessly. I staggered back into Dean’s arms—she’d wet herself, her pants stained with piss all down her legs.

  Something about the way she barely struggled, her eyes rolling back, struck me. I turned my head away, not able to look.

  It was so real. She’d come after me, but I was the one shivering and wanting to die.

  “How many of you are there?” Craig demanded, shaking her like she weighed nothing at all. His muscles flexed under the long sleeves of his t-shirt. She gargled an inaudible response.

  “Craig, bro,” Seth warned, and Craig lowered her to her feet. Her legs gave out. She spasmed, choking as he let go of her neck. Foam bubbled at her lips, flecked with red. I closed my eyes, and Dean’s arms came around me like a shell, letting me hide again.

  Then there was silence in our little bubble, the echoing beat of the music venue filling the air just beyond us, like it couldn’t quite penetrate where we stood.

  “Shit,” Dean breathed.

  “I need to disappear this,” Craig said. I heard the dull thud of a boot hitting something heavy and limp. “You guys don’t go anywhere without me, alright?”

  Dean’s arms tightened around me, and I shuddered. I’d felt her die, the energy leaving her and disappearing, up, into the ether.

  I’d taken care of business in the last few months, but I still wasn’t used to it. And that? That death was something I knew was going to stick with me for a long time.

  “There are still at least two others we know of,” Seth said, the frown in his voice. Craig’s footsteps and the sound of fabric dragging on cement faded into the dark. Dean lowered his arms as I pushed away, trying to regain my breath.

  “You alright, kid?” Seth asked, his warm hand closing on my shoulder. I glanced up at him, wanting to vomit or pass out. “You look like shit.”

  “Darcy?” The door behind us
opened, and a voice rang through the air.. We turned as one, probably looking guilty as hell. A stagehand was standing there, her headset on, clipboard jammed under her arm. “Oh, thank god you’re here, you’ve got to be on stage in one minute.”

  “She’s not going,” Dean said, as Seth crossed his arms. “She nearly passed out; we’re getting fresh air.”

  The stagehand blinked and took a step back, her expression uncertain. Guilt bit at me for letting the guys down, but finding the rest of the hunters and taking care of them was way more important. They’d forgive me, after everything was said and done.

  “Alright, I’ll let the stage manager know,” she said, still seeming unsure of what to do with herself.

  “Shoo,” Seth said, flicking his fingers. “The guys will deal. Just tell Eli, ‘Suck it up, buttercup,’ and he’ll know what’s what.”

  Her eyes widened and she whirled, disappearing back through the door. I let out a breath and sagged, my shoulders slumping. Sweat gathered on the back of my neck; I wiped at it, feeling like my skin was crawling with blood and spit from that hunter we’d… taken care of.

  “Okay,” I said, the darkness of the night closing in on us. It was a palpable thing, and, as I looked over the dirty lot—its parked cars and the sound of the waiting crowd spilling around the far corner of the building—I could feel the hunters out there, as if they were just waiting for me to find them.

  I’d find them. I’d take them down, just like I’d done to the ones who came before them. They were not going to get near my guys. They weren’t going to hurt any of the fans. And they were stupid if they thought they could touch me.

  “Darcy?” Dean asked, his voice soft. “I think we got some more un-friendlies.” He jerked his head. and my gaze followed the direction of his movement. Three shadowed figures were loitered at the edge of the lot looking for someone or something. It wouldn’t be unusual, except they were staring at us, their hoods up, faces dark smudges. There were about thirty cars between us and them, and my heart started crawling up the back of my throat.