Cursed Hearts (A Crossroads Novel) Read online

  “The one and only.”

  “So why doesn’t your name start with a J?” Rome smirked.

  “Trevor’s my middle name,” he admitted sheepishly. “I was named after my father, who was named after my grandfather.”

  “Wait,” Rome grinned. “So you’re…” He thought about it for a minute. “Jerry Jacobs Jr.?” He started laughing, and Ariahna reached over and slapped him on the arm. He just smiled at her.

  “Technically,” Trevor corrected, “my father is Jerry Jacobs Jr. That makes me Jerry Jacobs III.”

  “That sounds like the name of a butler,” he said.

  “I know. My father fashions himself a comedian.”

  “Well, you could be stuck with worse.”

  Rome wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

  “That reminds me, I still don’t know your name,” Trevor said.

  “Rome.” Trevor stared at him expectantly. “…Navarro?”

  “No way! I’ve never met anyone from one of the six families.”

  “The six what?”

  “Oh, are you going on the field trip today?”

  “What field trip?”

  Aria would have been uncomfortable at the mention of the families, if she hadn’t been feeling like such an idiot. “Navarro,” she muttered. “I should have known right when you introduced yourself.” Apparently she’d been a little distracted. Ariahna had grown up learning about the six families – mainly because she was from one of them.

  “Known what?” Rome asked. “What is going on?”

  She exhaled quietly, sitting up straight. “No, nothing,” she answered. “It’s just a little piece of history. I suppose you wouldn’t know it, would you?” She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “There are six very old magical families. They aided in saving this world by banishing the undesirables to another world, a new world. It was created to separate dangerous beings from the rest of mankind. It’s really just a plane of existence parallel to our own. It’s known as Lumara, but many call it the new world and refer to this as the old. Navarro was one of the six families.”

  “Right,” Trevor interjected. “It was Navarro, Graham, Hayes, Porter, Scott, and VayRenn. Members from those six families came forward to fight the vampires and werewolves using the Wands of the Artisan!” He raised his fist high into the air, drawing a few concerned glances.

  Rome ducked his head, quickly jerking Trevor back into his seat. “You’re really into fairytales, aren’t you?” he said, smiling down at the apple on her tray. Ariahna actually looked offended.

  “It’s not a story,” she said.

  “Maybe it’s just the way he told it,” Rome mumbled, nodding at Trevor, “but it makes it sound like something straight out of a Marvel comic book.” Trevor’s smile got a little wider, if that were possible. “You have your dad’s flair for theatrics, don’t you?” Trevor shrugged and Rome narrowed his eyes at the table in thought. If all of that were really true, then that meant he was both a werewolf, and the descendant of someone who’d worked to banish them. Something was seriously wrong with his family.

  “Wait, isn’t your last name VayRenn?”

  Trevor’s head whipped around so fast he nearly pulled something. “What? Why didn’t you say so? And why didn’t you know about any of this?” he added, turning back to look at Rome.

  “Beats me. I didn’t even know magic existed until yesterday.”

  “Well now you have to go on the field trip. They’ll tell you all about this stuff, and you’ll even get to see your family’s wand.”

  “Wands and witches,” Rome sighed. “This is all a little out there.” He found himself staring at Ariahna. “…Are you going?”

  “Yes.” Truthfully, she hadn’t planned to go, but the implication that he might, if she did, hadn’t slipped her attention.

  “Aw, cute,” Trevor teased.

  “What?” Rome intoned.

  “You like her.”

  Rome stared back at him blankly. “So,” he replied. “I’ve been told it would be impossible not to. Besides, don’t you like her?”

  “Yeah, but not in the same way you do.”

  “Remind me why you’re sitting with us again?”

  “Because,” Trevor shrugged.

  “Oh, well, that explains it,” Rome said, rolling his eyes as the warning bell rang. “Sit with me at lunch?” he asked, smiling at Aria and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “We can pick out our electives together like you wanted?”

  “Sure,” she said. “That way we can talk about how your first day went, too. I’m interested to hear what you think of the core classes. Oh, and if you didn’t know, the field trip is right after lunch. Core classes end at noon, then there’s an hour for lunch, and electives and clubs would generally follow. But of course, since we have a week before electives start, that’s all just free time for now.”

  Rome nodded in understanding, catching Trevor mocking the two of them as he walked off. “Hey, you wouldn’t want to walk me to class, would you? I don’t know where anything is.” In truth, Rome had checked out all the classes on his schedule before coming down to breakfast. But she didn’t know that.

  “No, I don’t mind. Can I see your schedule?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  “Why?”

  “I was joking,” he said, handing her the folded paper.

  “…It looks like you have History first with—ooh, that’s unfortunate. Mrs. Brill is very… structured.”

  “Is that code for rigid and old-fashioned?”

  Ariahna smiled without comment. They left the cafeteria following the flow of students towards the staircases. “All gifted classes are located on the first floor,” she explained. “When you take your standard core classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, they’ll be down here on the ground floor.”

  “You should have been my tour guide. You’re infinitely more helpful than what’s-his-face.”

  “Do you mean Shawn? He’s the male RA for our dorms. I’ve never really met him, but he seems like a capable guy.”

  “Yeah, capable of boring me to death,” he grinned, following her up the stairs. They talked amicably the rest of the way and when they arrived he stopped outside the classroom to thank her.

  “Just keep your head down in her class. And remember, it will get better. She’s not as scary as she seems.” Aria reached up to adjust his loose tie, and Rome grabbed her hand to stop her.

  “If she doesn’t like the way I wear my tie, then tough luck. It’s a miracle I’m even wearing one.”

  She smiled at the comment, but her eyes were devoid of humor. “Trust me; you’ll save yourself a lot of trouble by just straightening up your tie and tucking in your shirt.”

  Rome hesitated before giving in. “Fine. But I’m doing it for you, not her.” He let go of her hand, stepping in a little closer so that she could fix his tie. He tucked in his shirt, leaving his sleeves rolled up.

  “What do you think?”

  Aria took a good look at him, smoothing his tie down over his chest. It was kind of just an excuse to touch him.

  “You know, we could skip that field trip later and hang out,” he suggested, reaching up to play with the end of one of her curls. “Just the two of us, maybe some place you know Dallas won’t be.” Rome watched her smile giddily, a blush creeping over her face. She couldn’t even meet his eyes.

  “I—that would be—um...”

  “Think about it,” he whispered.

  Rome slipped into the classroom, taking a seat in the back. The rest of the students filed in slowly as a short, surly looking woman in her fifties arranged several stacks of aged textbooks along the edge of her desk.

  Kaleb sauntered through the door as the bell rang, and Rome sunk down in his seat, trying to remain undetected. The fact that he was sitting in a room full of freshman did nothing to help disguise him. He watched Dean Oakland stride to the front of the room and whisper something to Mrs. Brill. Whatever he’d said left her loo
king like she’d been sucking on lemons.

  Rome looked away as Kaleb sat beside him. There were plenty of other spots available, but no, he had to sit right next to him. He was doing his best to focus on the teacher, or the board, or hell, even the floor. As long as he wasn’t looking at Kaleb, or acknowledging his existence, then maybe he’d get the hint and go away.

  The Dean patted Kaleb on the shoulder as he left, missing the aggravated look he shot at his back. “Nice hickey,” Kaleb whispered, turning to Rome. “Careful, you might start a trend. Soon everyone will want one.”

  Rome glanced at the leather jacket draped over his torso, frowning at his t-shirt and dark, skintight jeans. “Doubtful,” he said, loosening his tie. “Can’t you tell? You’ve got every kid in this class shaking like a leaf.”

  “It’s Mr. Navarro, correct?” Mrs. Brill asked, her aged voice sounding less than pleased.

  Rome swallowed nervously. “Yeah…?”

  “Do you think the rules do not apply to you?”

  “What rule, specifically, are you referring to?”

  “The dress code, Mr. Navarro.”

  Rome blinked at her, slowly, before checking to make sure Kaleb was still sitting beside him. “At least I know there is a dress code,” he said, gesturing to Kaleb’s attire. “If he can wear that, I should be able to loosen my freaking tie.”

  Mrs. Brill let out a large, put-upon breath. “Mr. Leonté has been given an exception by the Dean. You may take the matter up with him if you have issue with it. Until then, this is still my classroom, and you will adhere by the rules while you are in it.”

  Rome tightened his tie, staring at her defiantly as he did.

  “Now,” Mrs. Brill said, snapping her fingers sharply. The books that had been neatly stacked on her desk rematerialized on the tables, startling several students. “In front of each of you is your History textbook. Do not forget to bring it to my class. Is that clear?”

  She continued to drone on as Kaleb searched for a way to entertain himself. He snaked a hand underneath the table, smoothing it over Rome’s thigh as a grin claimed his features.

  Rome jumped, pulling back harshly on his fingers.

  “What the hell is your problem?”

  Kaleb leaned over to whisper against his ear, smiling wickedly. “…I’m like a smoker,” he explained, “and you’re a cigarette. I just want to wrap my lips around you and blow.”

  Rome scribbled his name in his book, almost breaking his pencil in half when Kaleb uttered the word, blow.

  “Open your books to chapter one,” Mrs. Brill instructed. “Before we begin, does anyone know who first started The War of Creation, and when?”

  “Emily Boyle,” Trevor said, “near the turn of the 18th century.”

  “Next time raise your hand. Does anyone know what she did to start it? No? At the time, Emily Boyle was experimenting with very ancient magic, including the practice known as necromancy. She believed that by harnessing energy from the moon and combining it with blood magic, that she could not only reanimate the dead, but restore life. Instead, what she created was the first of a new species: vampires.”

  Rome had tuned in to her explanation like a small child listening to a ghost story. Were they for real with this shit? he wondered. The look on Kaleb’s face said yes. He took a deep breath, holding back a sigh.

  This was going to be a tough subject.

  “Can anyone tell me what the first response to the vampirism crisis was?” Mrs. Brill asked. She called on Trevor, who was holding his hand up rather impatiently. He looked ready to jump out of his seat.

  “Werewolves,” he answered.

  Rome narrowed his eyes, leaning in on his elbows as he glanced over at Kaleb and then back to Trevor. He was anxious for him to elaborate.

  “The witches of the day used similar magical practices to create the first werewolves as those that were used in the creation of vampires. By merging both the soul of a man and the soul of a wolf they were able to birth a formidable and expendable army.”

  Expendable? Rome thought, quirking an eyebrow unhappily.

  “Correct,” Mrs. Brill said coolly. “You.” She pointed at Rome.

  “Me?” he questioned, his heart thundering in his chest.

  “Start reading aloud from the top of page three.”

  “…Werewolves,” he said, choking nervously on the word. “Werewolves were imbued with an instinctual hatred for vampires,” he read slowly, “and an insatiable hunger for their… flesh. They literally devoured vampires to destroy them. Werewolves were created to entice vampires with both their scent and the taste of their blood.”

  Rome paused as a hand ghosted over his groin. Kaleb was touching him. Kaleb’s hand was in his lap, and he couldn’t think.

  “Continue,” Mrs. Brill instructed. He tried to keep reading as long fingers rubbed at him through thin fabric. If his voice sounded a little husky, the teacher didn’t seem to notice.

  “The concept of lycanthropy originated from…”

  “It’s pronounced: Na’wal.”

  “…from nahuals,” Rome said, clearing his throat, “which are witches with the ability to transform into beasts. The differentiation lies in that a nahual is one soul with two aspects, while lycanthropes are the product of two souls being forced to become one, and thus forever fighting over the physical form.”

  Kaleb was rubbing his palm roughly over the growing bulge in his pants, groping him as his body temperature started to rise. He could hardly hear the very words he was reading over the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears.

  “Stop reading when I tell you to, not when you feel like it, Mr. Navarro.”

  Kaleb’s hand slipped under his waistband, fingers wrapping around his flesh as he fought back a gasp. “…I-It is believed the reason that vampires require blood to sustain themselves is… because they were created using blood magic,” he said breathily. “The sun often makes them sick and weak since the magic which animates them draws heavily from the energy of the moon. They are—” He stopped reading, staring down at the page in utter disbelief. The passage described them as: ‘a twisted perversion of life, giving birth to unnatural things.’ He couldn’t say that, not with Kaleb sitting right next to him – and definitely not while he had his hand down his pants.

  “I’m not reading that aloud,” he said resolutely, flipping his book closed and reaching down to extricate Kaleb’s hand. Surprisingly, he let him without a fight. “This is sick. I’ve heard of fighting fire with fire, but what in the hell were they thinking? You all decided to play God and then you wonder why you have a war on your hands?”

  “Why do you think it was called the Dark Ages?” Mrs. Brill said. “Mr. Navarro, I understand that these types of teachings have been kept from you, but you will refrain from such outbursts in my classroom. Your family—”

  “Yeah, I heard. My family and five others saved everyone’s asses. That doesn’t change the fact that you all created monsters to satisfy your overindulgent egos. In my opinion, witches are the twisted perversion of life, and they give birth to unnatural things.”

  “Out of my classroom, now!” Mrs. Brill shrieked. “You can report directly to the Dean’s office.”

  “Gladly,” he said, grabbing his things.

  “And where do you think you’re going, Mr. Leonté?”

  Kaleb spared the old woman a glare, drifting out of the room.

  Rome could feel him creeping along behind him like a dark cloud, or a shadow he just couldn’t shake. “What do you want from me?” he said.

  “Didn’t they just cover that?”

  Kaleb smirked, circling around his side and stepping in front of him.

  “You think this is funny?” Rome said.

  “Hilarious.”

  “Answer me this: if you’re a vampire, and there was a war between your kind and witches, which ended in wormholes to parallel universes or what the fuck ever, then how in the hell are you even standing in front of me, and in a school f
or magic no less?”

  “Is,” Kaleb corrected. Rome squinted at him in confusion. “There is a war. It never ended. It was merely thrown into Lumara. And I can only answer your question with another question. How are either of us standing here?”

  “Is that where you’re from, Lumara?”

  Kaleb shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about this. He wasn’t even sure why he’d followed him in the first place. It had seemed better than sitting through a lecture about how he was an abomination, though.

  “I’ve never been this close to a werewolf before.”

  “I’m not a—”

  “—a sweet temptation put here to destroy me? No, of course not.”

  “If you thought I was a werewolf, why would you bite me then? And what the hell was that in class?”

  “Let’s just say I’m ‘volatile and impulsive’ – my father’s words, not mine.”

  “You know, you’ve done nothing but attack me and—”

  “—bring you pleasure?” he grinned, finishing his sentence again.

  “That—what happened in there is never happening again.”

  “Weren’t you paying attention? You’re supposed to have an insatiable hunger for my flesh,” Kaleb said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Don’t you just want to devour me right now?” He backed him against a row of lockers, removing Rome’s backpack from his shoulder and dropping it by their feet as he pressed him flush to the metal.

  Rome’s eyes flashed gold.

  There was no denying what he was after that.

  His hand clamped around Kaleb’s throat, squeezing tightly and trying to make himself let go at the same time. He could taste Kaleb’s arousal in the air, feel it trickling down his spine and seeping into his bones. “You need to back away, now,” Rome whispered. He relaxed his grip, curling his fingers in slightly and biting into skin with nails.

  Kaleb shivered. Rome was so close to changing he could practically feel his wolf breathing down his neck – sense it daring him to test its restraint. “You’re an alpha,” he said, stunned. “That’s so fucking hot.” The hand around his throat tightened and the tang of blood hit the air.