Forbidden, Tempted Series (Book 1) (19 page)

“Come on, I’ve got to take you to the circus. Frank is waiting for you.”

She gave a shaky laugh and hugged her arms. “I’m probably going to be grounded until I turn twenty-one.”

He twisted his lips and her eyes zoomed in, wondering what it might feel like if he ever kissed her. Really kissed her. The thought alone make her skin tingle and itch.

“He’s pissed.” Then he was peering at her with his hypnotic blue eyes. “Are you okay? Is anything bothering you at school?”

She was in serious danger of crying, but she wasn’t even sure why. Other than the fact that he was being so nice to her and she couldn’t explain it, but it was just what she needed. Whatever was going on in her world right now, being around Cain made it feel like it had all disappeared.

She couldn’t forget his eyes that night when he’d caught her, a deep glowing red, and yet she didn’t fear whatever that meant. She knew she should. But when he was looking at her like he was right now, and touching her, and acting like he cared, she just couldn’t.

“There’s a girl—”

“Bloodshot eyes, short black hair?”

Actually, Flint had been getting ready to talk about Rhiannon—she’d forgotten all about what’s her name, but she nodded anyway. “Yeah, she stares at me a lot.”

He frowned and then quickly looked down. “Stay away from her, princess. From all of them.”

She looked at his boots. Jeez, he looked nice today. She was so used to seeing him wear only black that to see him wear any other color, even if it was dark brown, made her heart go pitter-patter.

“I will.” He didn’t need to tell her twice; she had no intention of befriending them.

Cain took a deep breath, then looked back at her. “Promise?”

“Cain, why do you care so much?” She hadn’t meant to ask that, but he was acting so weird.

He drew up straight and when he did, he was so close she felt the heat of his body wash against her own. She sucked in a sharp breath when his hands rested casually against her hips. He was staring at her intensely, and she couldn’t have looked away even if her life depended on it.

He was working his jaw again. But if she hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn she was on fire at the point where his hands were touching her. His fingers found their way underneath her shirt, right above her hipbones. His featherlight touch felt more like a weighty caress, and she was unbelievably aware of each and every twitch of his fingers.

To the point that she had to remind herself to keep breathing.

Then he started to lean in, and she didn’t know what to do. What not to do. Panicked, she bunched her fists in the front of his dove-gray shirt and waited.

But he didn’t kiss her, he was running his nose along the top of her head, and she could swear she felt his body trembling.

“You always smell so good,” he murmured.

“I... do?” Her heart was spinning out of control, her pulse rushing so fast she heard it in her ears. How weird, because she always thought that about him. “So do you,” she whispered shyly. “Like the woods.”

He nodded and his big hand slid slowly up the back of her shirt, almost but not quite reaching the edge of her bra. His palm pressed flat and tight to her body. Not that she didn’t like this.

Because she did.

She loved it.

But he wasn’t acting like the Cain she knew. “Cain?” His name trembled on her lips.

He took a final deep breath, and then she felt that invisible barrier slam up between them again. Cain went rigid as he slipped his hands away from her.

It was the worst feeling in the world to have him pull away like that. She hated the Cain from school, but this Cain, the one outside, she really wished she could get to know him better.

“Come on, princess.” He jerked his head and opened his car door.

Her body was alive, quivering, her thigh muscles twitching. How did he do that? Just walk away like nothing had happened? Like the ground hadn’t shaken beneath their feet for a moment?

Humiliated, she gathered whatever shred of dignity she still had left and got back in the car. The rest of the trip back was made in complete silence. When he pulled into the fairgrounds, Cain parked and then gestured toward Adam’s trailer.

“Frank’s in there.” Then he got out and left her alone, the key still swinging in the ignition.

She wasn’t sure whether he planned to go back out or not, but turned the car off just in case. Feeling more miserable than she had this morning, Flint headed toward the trailer.

Stomach queasy and throat working hard to swallow her tears, she walked up to the door. Not once when her dad had been drinking had she ever done something so stupid. She wasn’t normally like this. Making people worry about her. Especially her dad. The last thing she wanted was to drive him back to the bottle.

Miserable, she didn’t even bother knocking; she just opened the door, ready to take whatever he dished out.

But he wasn’t inside. In fact, no one was.

The lights were off.

Glancing back outside, she looked for him. But as was usual in this weird place, there wasn’t anyone walking around. They were all still asleep, or maybe practicing.

Deciding to go find him herself, she had walked back out and was headed toward the main tent when she spotted Abel’s borrowed ATV from the corner of her eye and veered in that direction. Maybe he’d know. But when she neared the trailer closest to the shed, she was blasted by the sound of a shrill voice.

“Abel Luke, I don’t care—you are never allowed to leave school grounds like that. And taking that girl! Are you insane?”

Flint bit the corner of her lip. Probably his mom, which meant she should definitely
not
interfere. She turned to go.

“You must be Flint.” The same shrill voice stopped her in her tracks. Grimacing, she turned, ready to apologize profusely when she caught sight of the woman, only now remembering what Abel had told her about his mom and her disfigurement.

A thick mane of black hair covered almost the entire half of the woman’s pinkened skin. But it was obvious even from a distance that she was a scarred and ruined mess. Her lips on the left side of her face looked to be in a perpetual frown and melted downward. A tight framework of scarring webbed the pieces of skin not covered by hair. The other half of her face was firm and smooth, and that side was exotically beautiful. A large blue eye stared back at her, obviously aware that Flint was staring and giving her an opportunity to look her fill.

Flint had grown up in circuses, she’d seen and been around so-called
freaks
all her life. So instead of acting like she hadn’t seen it or embarrassing Abel’s mom by stuttering an apology, she smiled and nodded. “That’s me.”

A brief flash of awareness flashed through the woman’s good eye. “Adam took Frank to the tent to work some of the fire out of him. Hot Italian temper and all that.”

Her voice was softer now, more twangy. She had a natural Kentucky drawl in her speech. Abel’s mom leaned against the doorframe. She was dressed in jeans and a plain white shirt, her feet bare. She didn’t at all seem shy, but rather self-possessed. “Why don’t you come inside and wait with me, Flint? I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

Flint wasn’t sure what to expect, so she entered in hesitantly.

“Come on, come on.” Abel’s mom waved her hand. “Don’t be shy.”

But being so close to her now made the rest of her body come into exacting focus. The entire left side of her body looked like melted wax that had rehardened. Generally people who were disfigured tended to become reclusive and antisocial, or so said all the books she’d read. A la
The Phantom of the Opera
.

Even Abel had mentioned she didn’t do crowds or scenes, so honestly what she saw was not at all what she’d expected. The trailer was tastefully furnished. A small table and two chairs were by the kitchen, stained-glass sculptures hung in the window, and there was a white sofa and a massive worktable full of beakers and vials.

Her eyes were drawn to the murky green flame spiraling from the top of a Bunsen burner.

“Excuse the mess.” She wiped her hands off and held out her left one to Flint. “Name’s Layla.”

Flint took her hand, surprised by the soft yet firm texture of the ruined flesh.

“And yes, before you ask, I was named after the song.”

Her smile was friendly, full of straight white teeth.

“Song?”

“You know.” Abel played some air guitar. “Clapton?”

“Umm.” Flint gave him a confused look. “Should I?”

“You young man, are in big trouble. How about you go to the back room and work on your classwork that you decided was such a good idea to ditch on today...”

“How did you—” Abel’s brown eyes grew wide.

Layla planted her hands in on her hips in a no-nonsense pose, red nails standing out in bold relief. “You can thank your father for that.”

“Adam went to the school?” Abel’s voice picked up a whiny tone. “Ugh.”

“March.” Layla pointed to the closed bedroom door.

Abel gave Flint a discouraged flick of his wrist, then dragged himself back to the room, shutting the door a little harder than necessary.

“So?” Layla turned around, the swooshing of her hair revealing for a moment the burned column of her throat.

It was terrible that Flint suddenly suffered a desperate need to know how in the world she’d gotten so messed up and survived, but she didn’t ask.

“Your father’s pretty mad.” Layla walked over to the desk full of what Flint could only imagine Dr. Frankenstein’s lair would probably contain.

“Yeah, I screwed up big.”

“Mmhmm.” She nodded, placing safety goggles on her face. “You know this place isn’t as safe as it might sometimes appear.”

Flint sidled up to the table, fiddling around with an X-Acto knife, watching as Layla opened a couple of pouches of powder.

“What do you mean?”

“Well...” Layla peered at her for a long second. “Last year we had a serial murderer here.”

“What?” Flint went cold, like someone had just thrown ice into her veins. “Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t lie.” Layla withdrew a pair of tweezers and took a pinch of the brown stuff in them, dropping the powder into a beaker of clear fluid. “Cops never caught the guy, but he had a thing for fourteen-year-olds with blonde hair. How old are you, Flint?”

“Seventeen. They really never caught him?”

The liquid turned an almost fluorescent green before returning once more to its clear color. Layla stirred it with what looked like a large swizzle stick, then set the beaker directly over the green flame.

“No, never did. That’s why I’m telling you, you shouldn’t cut school.”

Flint narrowed her eyes, studying Layla as she turned around and leaned against the desk, her arms crossed over her chest. Flint tried to find Abel and Cain in her features, but it was too hard, although the blue eye reminded her so forcibly of Cain that her stomach grew ticklish.

“I think you’re just trying to use scare tactics on me,” Flint said with a smile. “Though I already promised Cain I wouldn’t cut again, so no worries.”

“Cain, huh?” Layla’s good eye narrowed shrewdly while the good side of her mouth turned up in a semi-smile. “Speaking of which, Abel was back here a whole twenty minutes before you guys. Wanna explain where you were exactly?”

The woman pulled no punches, and she was smart. Super smart. Mouth suddenly dry, Flint shook her head. There was absolutely no way she was going to talk about Cain with his own mother. Not yet, maybe not ever. They didn’t even know each other all that well. And she was sure they weren’t even a something worth mentioning at this point.

“He brought me here.”

“Right.” Layla slid the goggles off. “Well, I can tell you this—my oldest child has never been known to be extremely friendly, or much able to make friends with those outside his immediate circle. That he’s asked you to make that promise is... interesting.”

What exactly was she hinting at? And why in the world was Flint suddenly sweating uncontrollably? Was it possible that the jerk kind of sort of maybe liked her too?

Fighting a ridiculous grin, Flint turned and glanced back down at the table. “What’s all this stuff?” she blurted.

“Before I became the beauty that you see today—”

Flint sucked in a hard breath. “I wasn’t...”

Layla touched the sleeve of her arm gently. “Honey, I’ve had ten years to come to grips with me, it’s really okay, and pretending that I don’t look like I do helps no one. Better to tackle it head-on so we can move on.” She winked and Flint smiled.

“Anyway, I was a geneticist working at Berkeley. Studying the fundamental functions of cells, cell manipulation—”

“What’s that exactly?”

She smiled. “Ever see that weird picture of the mouse with a human ear growing off his back?”

Flint grimaced. “That’s kind of disgusting.”

Layla laughed. “That was my project. One of.” She shrugged like it was no big deal and pointed to a blacked-out steel locker unit. “I’m working on the generation of skin cells. It’s the biggest living organ on our body, generates millions of new cells daily, and...”

“You’re trying to grow some new skin for yourself?” Flint asked softly.

“Exactly. You see, once skin has been damaged to the level mine has been, I can never grow it back to look like yours. However, the new cells I’m growing, I’ve implanted genetic information into them to essentially make the skin as impenetrable as steel. Well...” She shrugged. “That’s what I’m trying to do. We’re not quite there yet.”

Impressed, Flint made a quiet noise in the back of her throat. “I see where Abel gets his genius from.”

“Not just Abel. Cain too.”

Flint held her snort in, but just barely.

Layla cocked her head, the silken fall of black hair again revealing a wide expanse of her face. “You like him.”

It wasn’t a question. Which meant she didn’t have to answer.

Thankfully a shadow fell across them, and for the first time since she and Abel had been caught, Flint was happy to see her dad, even if it meant a tongue-lashing.

But it wasn’t her dad.

Katy poked her dark head into the trailer, and instantly Flint had to bite down on her tongue to keep from snapping. How long had she been out there? Judging by the gleam in her eyes, long enough to know she and Layla had been talking about Cain, which meant her dad would probably find out soon.