Reborn Series Box Set (Books 1-3.5) Read online

  Hometown? I wish I had been there for his answer.

  “Anna Wallace.” Anna gives a little wave. “I’m a junior music education major, and I’m from Laurel, which is about an hour outside of the city.”

  “Welcome, Anna,” Jasper says, and then his dark eyes turn to me. Yes, those are the same eyes that penetrated right into my soul that night in the woods. But he looks at me like I’m just another student.

  “Hi. Siobhan Elliot. I’m a junior biology major. And I’m also from Laurel.” It comes out bubbly, not anxious. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

  “And welcome, Siobhan. So, what was I saying before?” Jasper asks to no one in particular. “Ah, yes. So, we’re covering Sumerian mythology first. Throughout the course we’ll be learning about these stories and legends in the context of the beliefs held during that time period, the customs practiced, conflicts, ways of life etcetera…”

  I can feel my phone vibrating in the depths of my purse. I take it out in what I hope is an inconspicuous way and glance down at the screen.

  It’s def. him, Anna’s texted me. I give a slight nod while keeping my attention on the conversation.

  “We’ll also be doing some interpretation and analyses of specific stories, which the English majors in the class might enjoy.” He smiles at the girl sitting to my right. The gold ring in her lower lip flashes as she gapes at him, her returning stare brimming with disbelief, like Ryan Gosling has just asked her for her phone number. Anna and I seem to be the only girls there not following his every move with eager eyes or hanging on his every word. He is an incredibly attractive man, but just like I sensed in the woods six years ago, there’s something sinister about him. His smile is just about as charming as a wolf’s.

  “As Dr. Mars explained in class, you’ll be asked to write three papers throughout the course, each focusing on a different civilization and myth of your choice.”

  There are a few nods and murmurs of acknowledgment around the table. “What’s your favorite ancient culture, Jasper?” Lip Ring finally manages to ask, rather breathlessly. “What’s your favorite myth?”

  “I enjoy Greek mythology the most,” Jasper replies. “My favorite is the story of Eros and Psyche.”

  “Why’s that?” the only guy who showed up to office hours asks. He’s on the end and cranes his head around the girl sitting next to him so Jasper sees him. The disdainful glance he gives the rest of the table suggests he actually came for the extra help, not the eye candy. “It’s just a stupid love story.”

  “Just because it has elements of romance doesn’t make it ‘stupid,’” Jasper counters smoothly. “I think that the love stories of the gods are great examples of early guilty pleasure entertainment. And their love for each other was the most desperate and consuming of all.”

  “So what is the story?” Anna wonders, looking around the group as if she’s missing something.

  “Well, Psyche was a beautiful mortal who attracted the ire of Aphrodite—the goddess of love and beauty, as I’m sure you know. Aphrodite was insanely jealous of Psyche’s beauty and sent her son Eros to make Psyche fall in love with an ugly beast. Eros fell in love with her instead.

  “By day, Eros made himself known to Psyche only as a honeyed, seductive voice. At night they made love, Eros camouflaged in darkness, still never revealing his face. Even so, she ran away with him to Olympus without protest.” Every eye is transfixed on him as if under a spell. Even Anna and I have grown subdued, enraptured. This is the sexiest history lesson I’ve ever had.

  “Although she loved Eros, Psyche missed her family terribly, so he invited them to visit his palace. Just like Aphrodite, they were always jealous of Psyche’s natural beauty and now even more so of her grand new home. They said her dark prince was really a hideous monster and convinced her to spy on Eros. That night Psyche found his secret bedchamber, but when she held her lantern up to his face, she saw not a monster, but the face of a handsome, glorious god. Eros considered this a betrayal of trust and banished her from Olympus, leaving her to wander the Earth, desperately searching for him.”

  When he hesitates, disrupting the flow of his tale with a dramatic pause, I blink a few times and emerge from my trance. I realize he’s looking at me, and only at me. His eyes glisten like pools of water under a night sky, but otherwise his expression is hard to read. He finishes the story, never once breaking eye contact with me.

  “Eventually, Psyche asks Aphrodite for help, and she successfully completes a series of difficult tasks. Her reward is immortality, and she and Eros reunite and marry.”

  “Aw! I think that’s romantic!” Lip Ring cries.

  He finally diverts his gaze away from me. “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “I don’t think it’s romantic.” I sound a little more disgusted than I had intended to. Jasper’s head snaps up again.

  “Why’s that?” he asks. Annoyance simmers just beneath his even, casual tone.

  “She went through all of that hardship to get a guy who abandoned her back? That’s really unfair.”

  “She betrayed him.”

  “Because she wanted to find out who the man she loved really was? Okay, so maybe he was angry. He could have gotten over it. Leaving her just seems petty and cruel.” I can’t even believe I’m saying this. Yesterday morning I was cowering in my seat, the mere sight of Jasper unraveling me. Now I’m sitting here arguing with him. My heart rate picks up again, giving a few raps of warning, but it’s not enough to stop the word vomit. “And he would only come to her as a disembodied voice? Why? Didn’t anyone ever tell him that’s creepy?”

  “Maybe he just wanted someone to love him, for him,” Jasper snaps, grinding his teeth. His retort startles me and my peers into silence, the atmosphere over the table thickening like a storm cloud. Jasper’s eyes sweep the table. They’re wide as though he’s just realized his outburst. He clears his throat to collect himself. “I guess I never thought about it that way,” he concedes, his tone soft, slow and thoughtful this time. “So…would anyone else like to share a favorite myth?”

  A few people jump in with their favorite stories, although none of them captivate the group like Jasper did. Closer to eight, Anna whispers to me, “Do you want to talk after this? We can go to my place. I’ll give you a ride back later.”

  “Um, sure,” I mumble back.

  Scattered “thank you’s” and squeaking chairs make me realize that everybody is getting ready to leave.

  “I’m going to get some tea,” Anna tells me. I nod and wait for her at the table. I think that everyone has left until I look up and see Jasper Hart standing up but lingering by the table.

  I smile up at him. “Thanks for your help tonight,” I say to fill the silence. “I hope you didn’t mind the little debate.”

  “Not at all. I hope you bring that spirit with you to class,” he insists. His uncertain frown, however, suggests he’s hoping I keep my mouth shut. “You and Anna are looking well.” He winks at me and then turns on his heel and walks briskly away before I can come up with something to say.

  “Ready to go?” Anna asks me, jiggling her car keys in one hand, her paper cup of tea in the other. I’m still staring, dumbfounded, at the spot Jasper has just vacated.

  Chapter 5

  “He remembers us,” I whisper.

  “What?” Anna says, sitting down again beside me.

  “Just now, before he left, he said, ‘You and Anna are looking well.’”

  Anna’s hazel eyes grow wide. “That’s really creepy. Who the hell is this guy?”

  I shake my head. “Well, let’s go.” We leave the library, and then walk across campus to the parking garage to get her pickup.

  Consumed by our own thoughts, we sit in silence on the drive to the house she shares with her brother and his bandmates. It’s an older-looking, two-story house in a residential area where a lot of students rent. All of the houses are similar in structure with concrete porches and off-white siding. The streetlights are dim, and the street
is quiet. It feels a little sketchy, but it’s fairly close to campus so I imagine it can’t be that bad.

  Anna pulls into the driveway and turns the car off. We get out, and I follow her inside. She flips on the living room light and drops her purse and keys on the dark wood table next to the door. We walk through the living room to get to the kitchen. The plush, faded orange couch, brown coffee table and old TV are familiar—they all came from the Wallaces’ family room in the basement. Their old green card table and fold out chairs are in the kitchen.

  “I made chocolate chip cookies last night,” Anna says. “I hope the boys didn’t eat them all yet.” Their fridge is almost empty except for a carton of milk, eggs, a half of a loaf of bread and a six-pack of beer, so it doesn’t take her long to emerge victorious with a plastic container still stuffed with cookies.

  “Milk?”

  I nod, so she pours me a glass and opens the cookies on the table.

  “Is Jimmy here?” I ask casually though a mouthful of cookie.

  “No. I think they have a gig tonight.” She studies me over her tea.

  “Are you still in love with him?” she asks me.

  “What?” A few crumbs spray out of my mouth. “With who?”

  She gives me a knowing look. “Jim. Are you still in love with my brother?”

  “Was I ever in love with your brother?” When I realize how cold I sound, I continue, “You guys were my best friends. I cared about both of you, a lot.” I still do.

  “Cut the crap, Siobhan. I know how you felt about him in high school,” Anna says. “That’s why I was so angry at you when you humiliated him like you did. I mean, it would have pissed me off anyway, but I was even angrier because I didn’t understand how you could do that to him when you were in love with him.

  “And now, whenever I say his name, you get this look on your face. You probably don’t realize it.”

  “What look would that be?” She’s only mentioned him a few times, but when she does I have to fight down the memories that come creeping into the back of my mind, threatening to flood me again with despair, regret and longing. Does all of that show on my face?

  She hesitates. “Wistful,” she decides.

  I look down at my half eaten cookie to avoid her prying eyes. “I don’t know,” I reply softly. “I don’t think so. I think just talking to you again has brought all of these memories back—some of them are awful, and I wished they’d never happened. But most of them are happy. I guess I’m just feeling nostalgic.”

  And with that realization, I let memories of high school seep into my mind, memories of everything that went wrong after the bonfire, after our encounter with Jasper Hart.

  ***

  It was a few Saturdays later when I wandered over to the Wallaces’ to wait for Anna to get home so that we could go to the mall. Although Anna wasn’t back from the eye doctor yet, Jimmy was supposed to be home, so I rang their doorbell and waited. When I heard what sounded like the shriek of microphone feedback through a speaker, I realized he must be getting ready to practice in their garage. I went around the side of the house to the backyard, trampling brown grass and fallen leaves.

  The front door to the garage was open. I could hear Jimmy shuffling around inside, adjusting the speakers then strumming a few chords on his electric guitar. I paused under the fading green-to-gold leaves of their maple tree, nervous about going inside. The three of us had been inseparable when we were kids, all the way through middle school. Now it was usually just me and Anna. I couldn’t remember the last time Jimmy and I had hung out without her.

  It didn’t help that I had a huge crush on him. I knew that Jimmy and I would never happen. He was just nice to me because I was his sister’s friend, but I knew what his friends thought of me and the other cheerleaders. We were ditzy. Shallow. And most of the squad thought Jimmy and his friends were losers. It was all so stupid. Anna and I stayed out of it. No walls for me. I liked everyone.

  Jimmy was absorbed in playing and singing when I finally got the guts to walk the rest of the way to the garage. This time I lingered in the doorway so I wouldn’t interrupt him, but where he could see me if he looked up. I had no idea what song he was playing—probably something profound and influential from the seventies. I loved listening to his soulful baritone voice. I closed my eyes and got so lost in it that I didn’t realize when he stopped playing.

  “Siobhan,” Jimmy said in a tone that told me he had been trying to get my attention. My eyes flew open to find him still cradling his guitar and chuckling. Usually, his lips were set in a stubborn but sort of endearing pout, but now he was treating me to a rare, full-blown smile. He was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. Back then his brown hair was long, down to his shoulders, and fell into his hazel eyes. I thought he was so cool.

  “That was amazing,” I exclaimed as though that hadn’t just been the most awkward moment ever. “What song was that?”

  He probably thought I was clueless, but he answered me anyway. “‘Comfortably Numb.’ It’s a Pink Floyd song.”

  I had no idea who Pink Floyd was, but I didn’t admit that. After another uncomfortable silence, I said, “I’m just waiting for Anna to get back. We’re going shopping.”

  Jimmy nodded, lifted the guitar strap over his shoulder and set the guitar on its stand. “Let’s go inside.” He cocked his head in the direction of the house. “I can get you something to drink.”

  “We have,” Jimmy said, peering into their refrigerator a minute later, “Coke, iced tea, milk and beer,” he added, turning and winking at me.

  I gave a short laugh. “An iced tea sounds great.” He handed me a can and got one for himself, and we headed downstairs to the basement.

  I can’t remember how it started, but somehow we got a conversation flowing. Soon we were talking and laughing like we were thirteen again, like nothing had ever changed. We sunk lower and lower into the orange plush couch while keeping to our respective sides. During a lull in the conversation, I blurted out, “So, do you have a girlfriend?”

  I already figured he didn’t. Our high school was small, and my friends and I always made it our business to know who was going out. So I wasn’t surprised when he shook his head no.

  “What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked me. “I bet you do—it’s one of those gorillas on the football team.”

  I threw one of the ugly orange pillows at him, but I was laughing. “No. I’m not dating any of the ‘gorillas’ on the football team, or anybody else for that matter.”

  Jimmy raised his eyebrows. “That’s hard to believe. What about Anna Banana?” he continued. “Does she have a secret beau I don’t know about? I’ll kick his ass.”

  “Beau?” I repeated, still giggling. “Who says that? Do you belong to some secret yacht club I don’t know about?” I teased. “And why is it hard to believe I don’t have a boyfriend—I’m sorry, a beau?”

  Jimmy’s laughter subsided at my question, and he regarded me uncertainly. “Seriously? You’re beautiful, Siobhan,” he said, suddenly serious, “and you’re a really good person.”

  “Oh,” I mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. “Well, thanks. That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.” Any boy.

  “Do you like anyone?” Just as abruptly, he was back to being silly. He rested his chin on his fist, leaned in closer to me and persisted in a shrill voice, “Come on, Siobhan. Spill the beans.”

  I put my face in my hands and groaned. “Oh, my God, this is really what you think girls act like.” He batted his eyelashes at me in response.

  “There is someone I like,” I finally admitted, uncovering my face, “but I know he doesn’t like me back.”

  “Who? How do you know he doesn’t like you back?”

  I sighed. His kidding around was starting to grind on my nerves. “Because he’s smart, and talented, and has a band,” I said through gritted teeth, “and to him I’m probably just a stupid cheerleader.” I got up from the couch and stomped over to the s
tairs.

  “Siobhan, wait!” he called after me. I felt his hand on my arm and turned around reluctantly.

  “What?” My face was probably tomato red. I pursed my lips to hold back the embarrassed tears collecting in my eyes.

  Jimmy just stared at me for a few seconds. Then, he took my face in his hands and leaned down to kiss me.

  During the next few weeks after our first kiss, Jimmy and I kissed some more. A lot more. On my couch when my parents were out having a date night. On the couch in his basement when his parents were out and Anna was babysitting next door. Under the bleachers before he had marching band practice and I had cheering practice. Somehow we managed to keep our relationship a secret. I don’t know why we snuck around. Anna would have been happy for us. I think we both thought the other didn’t want anyone to know. I want to believe I didn’t care what my other friends thought, but maybe a small part of me did.

  Despite the sneaking around, it was perfect. Jimmy had asked me to Homecoming, so it wouldn’t have been a secret for much longer, anyway. Until that Friday night when Jimmy and I were alone again in his basement and everything changed.

  With me on my back, my head crushed into one of the couch pillows, Jimmy was stretched out beside me and slightly over me, his lips eagerly exploring mine. He pulled me closer to him, lightly skimming his fingers up and down my body. His hand paused on my inner thigh, close to where I was already warm with anticipation for something I had yet to experience.

  “Is this okay?” he mumbled against my lips as he massaged slow circles between my thighs.

  “Yes,” I gasped. Waves of heat and excitement rolled over me.

  After carefully unzipping my jeans, his hand dipped underneath them, underneath my underwear. God, his fingers felt good there. I thought I was going to dissolve into the couch. But as his hand brought me closer and closer to the brink, I felt a familiar burning somewhere else.

  I guess it’s a good thing I had already discovered my wings—the curse from my Dark Angel. After that first time in the woods, they exploded out of my back again during a nightmare. The pain coupled with my own screaming woke me up, and my parents. Even in the few seconds it took for them to rush to my bedside, the wings were already reabsorbed. I burrowed under the sheets to hide the sweaty flannel strips of my nightshirt from them. Another time my history teacher made fun of an answer “someone” had put on our exam in front of the entire class. I bolted from the classroom, tears streaking down my face, and dove into one of the stalls in the girls’ restroom. I had just enough time to yank my pretty pink lace top over my head before they erupted. Later I got detention for disrupting class.