Reckless Revenge: Book Four (Spellbound 4) (6 page)

A few hours later, my cell phone rang, jolting me out of daydreams. Tossing one of my ancestors’ grimoires aside, I grabbed my cell and the screen flashed with a new text message from Trent.

Trent:
I am going to come by in an hour. Dress up!

Me:
Where are we going?

Trent:
You’ll see. It’s a surprise.

Hadn’t I repeatedly told him that I hated surprises?

Me:
What about the curfew?

Trent:
No worries. I’ve got it covered.

Of course he did. Must be nice to have that kind of clout.

Me:
I don’t think this is a good idea.

Trent:
Even superheroes need a break. Need to recharge their batteries.

Me:
Not when lives are at stake and big growly wolves are hunting them down.

Trent:
Stalking the lycans can resume tomorrow. Tonight we take a much-needed breather.

Me:
I don’t think so.

Trent:
I will come over and drag you out by your hair, woman.

I shook my head, but smiled. He would, too. There was no use arguing with him. He was seriously stubborn.

Me:
Guess one night off would be OK.

Trent:
See ya in a bit.

My overly protective boyfriend could be romantic with a capital ‘R’, and I wasn’t just talking flowers and heart-shaped chocolates. He always knew what I needed, and a date night was definitely in order. The wolf hunting and my schemes for bloody vengeance could take a night off.

I rushed upstairs to change clothes and freshen up my makeup. I chose a black, off-the-shoulder blouse that dipped low on one side, skin-tight jeans, and a pair of killer heels—
Jimmy Choo
—that I borrowed from Darrah’s designer filled closet. Then I redid my makeup and put a dab of glitter on each cheek to finish my signature style.

The doorbell rang and I hurried through the house to open the door. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He slowly looked me up and down. The hunger in his eyes both flattered and unnerved me. “You look freakin’ hot tonight.”

I smiled. “Where are we going?”

Trent leaned smugly against the doorframe. “Dinner, dancing, and then—”

“I know where this is going, Mr. Donovan, and just a reminder—we’re strictly above the belt.”

Trent laughed, and I giggled. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and put a soft kiss on the top of my head. Then he crooked his elbow and I linked my arm through his, so he could escort me to his black Charger parked in my driveway.

Trent opened my door before he walked around and slid into the driver’s seat. He turned on the engine and eased the sleek vehicle out of the drive.

Trent drove us into the town of Corte Madera, a diverse community in the center of Marin County, and the stunning view of Mount Tamalpais in the distance loomed tall and unchanging. The budding architect within me admired the flatland houses located on both sides of Highway 101 as we drove past.

Trent had prepared a romantic playlist on his iPod, which was playing softly in the background. He had eclectic taste in music and I recognized the first ethereal song, “Need You Now” by
Lady Antebellum,
and smiled to myself.

I took a deep breath and gazed at the gorgeous surroundings. Then my eyes went straight back to Trent. He tapped one hand on the steering wheel, and I found myself staring at his fingers. They were not inexperienced teenage boy hands. No, they were sexy man hands.

When the sensuous ballad, “Never Tear Us Apart” by
INXS
started, I glanced at Trent.

“Anything I can help you with?” he asked.

“Um, what?” I turned away, pretending to be preoccupied by the scenery out my window.

“You look like you were lost in thought.”

More like lusty ones.

I sneaked a peek at his face. “No. Just enjoying the view.”

At a traffic light, Trent narrowed his eyes. “And how does it measure up?”

My eyes wandered back to the landscape out the window. “Not too shabby.”

“Well, tonight deep thoughts or worries are not allowed,” he said. “I consider it my duty to make you forget all about your troubles. At least for a few hours.”

“Oh? And how exactly do you intend to do that?” I asked.

“Like this.” He leaned over the console and kissed me hard on the mouth.

A rush of adrenaline flowed through my body. I smiled at my hotheaded, crazy, yet loveable boyfriend. “That’s a good start.”

“There’s more where that came from, beautiful.” He shifted back into his seat and chuckled, a throaty, uninhibited laugh. The way a laugh should be.

The almost hypnotic melody of
Lifehouse
’s “You and Me” seeped through the speakers and I hummed along with the tune.

He smiled and glanced over at me. “If you like this playlist, I can burn you a mix CD to load into your iPod.”

I smiled and rubbed my hands together. “Yes, please!”

Trent took my hand and his skin felt warm and vaguely rough, his grip confident and steady. “You’re too cute, you know that?”

He parked the car in front of an Italian restaurant and jumped out to open my door—always the gentlemen. He whisked me inside and we were immediately seated by the hostess, reminding me of how much sway the Donovans had in this area. The restaurant had a beautiful modern wood décor and the aroma of authentic Italian cuisine filled my senses and my mouth watered.

Trent neatly folded his menu and placed it on the table. I fumbled with mine, a little less gracefully than I would’ve liked, before putting it down. We both ordered the chicken breast marinated with rosemary and white wine, with roasted potatoes. Yum.

While we waited for our food, Trent told me funny stories about his stint in military school. I soon found myself relaxing as I listened to his melodic voice. For a while, he actually did make me forget all about lycans and death and the whole revenge thing.

“You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?” I said. “From military school rebel to studious student dedicated to fighting evil with your weird girlfriend.”

“Weird?” He smiled and rubbed his chin. “I would’ve picked a different adjective to describe you.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Funny. Sexy. Passionate. Smart—”

“Stop!” I laughed, and lowered my head. “You’re making me blush.”

My chest heated and the back of my neck burned. I glanced up to find Trent’s elbow leaning on the table, and his index finger gliding over his bottom lip. “It’s all true,
mon chéri.
”

I licked my glossed lips and stared at his mouth. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Trent wickedly smiled, his finger leaving his full lips. “Oh, I’m bad all right.”

Laughing softly, I lowered my hands to my lap, wringing my napkin. “Um, Trent, fancy places like this aren’t really my style.”

“But they should be,” he said, then winked. “And they will be if you stick with me. You deserve all of this, and more.”

“It’s just everything is happening so fast, you know. So many changes in our lives that it’s a little scary.”

Trent was almost eighteen and had already traveled most of the world. It had matured him in a way that most teenage boys lacked. Me? I’d never been out of the Bay Area.

I could sense the passionate scorch of his green gaze on my face. I squirmed and my entire body blushed feverishly, my teenage hormones shifting into overdrive.

I sipped my cold water, tempted to dump the glass over my head to cool off my overheated skin, but instead I said, “I’m glad that you insisted we go out tonight. It’s nice to get away from Fallen Oaks and all the craziness for a few hours.”

“It is…” He leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table, and searched my face. “You’re always quizzing me about my life.” It wasn’t a question. “Do you still want to be an architect someday?”

I sat back, frowning at the random change of topic. “That hasn’t changed. I still want to go to college and study architecture someday.”

“Not too far away, I hope.”

“With my dad, um, gone, and Darrah spending the insurance money faster than you can say, ‘
Sale at Nordstrom,
’ I doubt anything other than community college is in my future.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He tapped a finger on his chin. “I’m curious about your family. You don’t talk about them much.”

Look who’s talking.
Every time the subject of his dad came up, Trent shutdown and went into his man cave to sulk and brood.

I stared at the table, letting the loose strands of my hair hide my face. “There isn’t much to tell. My dad is dead. My aunt is a bitchy ice queen, and my real mother is still grieving. My grandparents are cool, but…they hate my aunt…” My voice stuttered to a stop and I lifted my head.

“How are things at home now?” Trent ran his fingertips lightly around the rim of his glass. “Since, you know, your dad’s gone.”

Where was he going with this?

“Fine. Darrah is never there.”

He reached for his glass and took a swig of his water, ice cubes ratting in the glass. “You don’t mind being alone so much?”

All this talk of my family drama was killing the romantic vibe. Tonight was supposed to be about forgetting our problems and
not
rehashing them.

“Doesn’t bother me,” I lied.

“You’re still not sleeping,” he said softly.

Refolding my napkin, I sighed. “I have a lot on my mind, Trent.” Like avenging my dead father.

“Are my questions making you uncomfortable?” he asked, sitting back.

What was his first clue?

“Sort of...”

He nodded. “So things haven’t improved with Darrah?”

I fiddled with the napkin. “That would be a big fat
no
. My aunt only has an intimate relationship with her credit card. She’s being an incredible twit and not saving the insurance money. Unless…well, your dad is funding the shopping expeditions. Hopefully, that’s the case, and my college fund hasn’t been totally blown on designer duds.”

Trent laughed. “He probably is…and have you spoken to Lauren recently? Since you found out that she was your birthmother?”

“No.” I narrowed my eyes. “What’s with the third degree?”

He held his palms up in mock surrender. “Chill. I’m just worried about you. You’ve been so distracted lately with training that I haven’t wanted to inquire about the home front. I thought tonight we could talk—”

“Oh. Sorry if I sounded bitchy.”

Thankfully, the waiter returned with our food and the conversation ended. We devoured everything. Then feeling full and content, we paid the check and left.

Fifteen minutes later, Trent pulled into the parking lot of Luna Pizza, the local hangout that featured live cover bands, and parked. Loud music poured out of the open door and filled the night air. I pulled the lip-gloss from my pocket and slid the sheen across my lips.

“That’s a sexy color,” Trent said, a glimmer of raw lust dancing in his eyes.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll let you taste it later,” I said with a soft smile.

“Definitely.” Trent got out of the car and opened my door. “Time for some dancing.” He shed his leather jacket, throwing it into the car and shutting the door.

“Don’t tell me, ‘I’ve got moves you’ve never seen’?”

“You got that right. Now come on.” He grabbed my hand.

The place was packed with sweaty, gyrating teenagers and music blaring through two large speakers on the either side of the makeshift stage. The band broke into a slower song and Trent led me straight onto the dance floor.

We danced slowly, and I noted that the boy, did indeed, have moves. He drew me closer to him, grabbing my hips. At his firm, almost possessive touch, it felt like a bolt of electricity had zapped over my body, coursing through my veins and sizzling in my blood. My breath hitched like some silly fangirl. Then I smiled shyly as a grin teased his beautifully sculptured lips. I ran my hands over his muscular chest, and then lower, the muscles in his stomach tensing under his tight shirt. His familiar scent surrounded me: expensive cologne, peppermints, and healthy teenage boy. I wasn’t entirely sure if his scent was completely natural or artificial, but whatever it was—it needed to be bottled and sold at department stores.

I turned my back to him, grinding into him teasingly and smiled when he wrapped his arms around my waist. Trent’s breath fanned my neck and his hands stroked the bare skin above my low-rise jeans in tickling caresses.

The music purred through us as our bodies molded together. He spun me around to face him and gripped my hips. My breath quickened and my heartbeat accelerated. Other kids bumped into us, but I couldn’t escape his intense, heated stare while we danced. He lowered his head and my mouth surrendered to his, and the touch of his lips made my legs rubbery. Normally I wasn’t in favor of PDA, but as we swayed to the music and held each other, I temporarily forgot everything. When those passionate kisses finally ended, both our faces were rosy.

I ignored the rude stares of other girls, especially after I spotted Heather and Elesha within the crowd. I felt like Cinderella, and they were the horrible stepsisters. It was awesome.

But tonight was more about Trent and me. We soon became engrossed in our own private realm where no one else existed. Not even vicious lycans, or mean Trendies, or hateful bullies. Wrapped securely in Trent’s arms as we danced to the music, I let all the paranormal insanity go by relaxing and listening to the harmony. Despite everything else that had recently happened to me that moment was close to perfect.

After three more songs, we went to the counter to order sodas and cool off. Sure enough when I peeked over, Heather was whispering in Elesha’s ear and glancing pointedly at Trent. The music pounded inside my head, and I lowered my gaze. I wouldn’t let them ruin our night.

That is, until Carter Lampard arrived.

Carter entered Luna Pizza with a herd of football players and they stuffed themselves into a booth. He was scanning the room for someone.

Oh, crap.
Me.

He was staring in my direction like I had suddenly grown horns. I stiffened and every muscle tensed. Trent sensed my unease and stared over my shoulder at Carter, his eyes narrowing, and the muscles in his jaws twitching under his skin.