The Dark Paradise Trilogy Box Set

by Heather C. Myers

  After throwing open the door, he searched every crevice of the house: the living room, the bathroom, the money room where the cash was left untouched. When he walked into the bedroom, he already knew she was gone. His eyes took in everything they possibly could and came to a halt when they reached the piano. Crimson tainted two pure ivory keys. He took a step toward it, knowing exactly what it was but needing to see it up close anyway. He took his finger and swiped the majority of blood, looking at it through a slitted gaze. He touched his fingers to both cheeks so her blood stained not only the piano but his scars as well.

  He would get her back no matter what the cost.

  Keirah woke up to a stabbing pain in the back of her head. Every pulse, every throb, was more painful than the last and she couldn’t suppress a groan that vibrated across her lips. It hurt to open her eyes, but she knew she had to. She had to see where she was. Before she did anything, a familiar scent wafted through her nose and calmed her with inner-peace. Noir’s shirt was still on her form and gave her the strength to crack open her eyes. A chuckle caused every hair on her body to stand at attention, and though she tried to focus on the silhouette in front of her, her vision was too blurry to do so.

  “So you’re the girl that has ruined everything,” a familiar voice drawled. He was loud, causing her head to throb more violently, and she whimpered, curling her body in the fetal position. “Noir had one job, just one thing that was required of him: to corrupt Onyx City. Yet it seems you have corrupted him. But that’s okay, see, because I was sent here to teach him a lesson. He’ll be here. I’m counting on his attraction to you to lure him in. Maybe he doesn’t really care, though. Maybe he won’t come. You know, you could tell me where he is. I don’t want him to miss what I’m going to do to you.”

  Keirah managed to look at Kane—though he became three figures rather than one—and croaked out, “I won’t tell you anything.”

  “I was afraid you might say that,” he said with mock-disappointment. “However, I have ways of making people talk to me, even if my natural charm can’t. You think you’re in pain now? Just wait until I’m through with you.”

  Keirah swallowed but her determination was firm.

  “Go fuck yourself,” she managed to get out before blacking out again.

  33

  It didn’t surprise Reese in the slightest that Ollo pretended nothing had happened between them the next day during training. Andie hadn’t been in class that morning and it wasn’t until Reese got to training that she had an idea why that was.

  “Well, darl,” he said when she walked into the basement of Bacchus’s Brewery. No one even gave her a second glance, even though she was clearly a teenager in a seedy bar without any form of parental supervision. Maybe Ollo had enough sway over management that it didn’t matter. “Grab your bow. It’s going to be a long night.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” she asked, dropping her bag off to the side.

  “Didn’t catch the news today?” he asked, popping his gum.

  “I was only in school.”

  He gave her a dry look, and she had to turn and grab her bow in order to hide her amused grin. “Noir robbed a bank yesterday,” he explained. “Almost got sent to Purgatory by one of his own men.”

  “Yeah,” Reese said, nodding her head. “A girl saved him.”

  “Not just a girl,” Ollo corrected. “The girl. Your friend’s sister, the one he took. She saved him.”

  “Keirah saved him?” Reese felt her entire body tense. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” His hard eyes emphasized his point.

  “But … why?” It didn’t make any sense to her. Why would Keirah save the life of a man who kidnapped her, stabbed her, kidnapped her again, and was holding her hostage? Ollo had to be mistaken. There was no other explanation. Unless … She furrowed her brow. “Stockholm Syndrome?”

  He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck with his open palm. “Something like that.” He glanced at her sideways. “Maybe something more.”

  “Something more?” Reese nearly dropped her bow. “There is no way Keirah is actually in love with this guy.”

  “Love isn’t something I know much about, darl,” he said. She could tell by his inflections that he was getting annoyed with her and her eyes sparkled. She wasn’t sure why, but she found it amusing to piss him off; although, he was decidedly crankier since he quit drinking cold turkey. “All I know is that it happened and that’s all that matters.”

  “So what does it mean?” Reese asked as she grabbed a bow.

  “It means the war is coming sooner than we thought,” Ollo explained. “Whether Noir wants to admit it or not, he’s drawn to Keirah and that’s distracting him from his goal. I’m almost positive he’s going to meet Kane to figure out what he’s doing here, and that meeting will decide when the battle begins.”

  “How?”

  He furrowed his brow, rubbing his temple as though a painful headache was coming on. His chewing became incessant. “I don’t know.” He locked eyes with hers. “Why so many questions?”

  “I think I have a right to know everything about this war I’m getting myself into,” she drawled, raising a challenging brow.

  “All I know is that there’s a catalyst, a sacrifice, that officially starts the war,” he said, dropping his hand from his neck only to run his fingers through his tresses.

  “And you think that might be Keirah?” Any trace of amusement vanished from her face and worry quickly replaced it.

  “Don’t know.” He popped another bubble. “All I know is that along with these visions, you’re supposed to be the best archer any side could have, and right now, you’re a crap shot. Let’s go, darl. Start shooting. It’s going to be a long night.”

  Reese rolled her eyes but did as she was told. Keirah was potentially a sacrifice that started this war? She didn’t know if that was true or what being a sacrifice meant, but she would make sure she was ready. Just in case.

  It took Ollo placing his hand on Reese’s shoulder as she prepared to lock another arrow into place when she finally noticed her fingers were bleeding.

  “Darl,” he whispered. “Stop.” He dropped his hand so his fingers coiled around her elbow and led her to a single crate.

  “Sit down,” he instructed in a gentle voice. “And stay there for a minute, would you?” Before she could reply, he headed up the stairs and out the door.

  Reese started feeling the stinging in her fingers, and she realized her mind had gone on autopilot as she shot the arrows over and over and over again. She still hadn’t hit the damn bull’s eye. She’d been going at this for the past two weeks and she still hadn’t hit the bull’s eye. Ollo said she was supposed to be the best. What a joke. How was she supposed to protect her family when she couldn’t even hit a target? How was she supposed to protect Keirah? She didn’t know when she started crying, but it was before Ollo returned with Band-Aids and Neosporin. He pulled out a handkerchief and, since her hands were otherwise indisposed, began wiping the tears from her face.

  She was surprised at how gentle he was. She sniffled but felt herself calm down as he dried her tears. Her eyes closed as leaned into his touch. She could feel him tense, and she knew he was uncomfortable. That was why it meant so much to her when he didn’t pull away.

  “Why are you crying, darl?” he asked in a low voice. He must be close because she could feel his breath on her face. It smelled predominantly minty, but there was a slight taint of alcohol, something Reese doubted would ever go away. She felt the majority of his palm brush her long bangs away from her face as best as he could. She opened her eyes and just stared at him, taking in the soft angles of his face. He wasn’t that bad looking, really. Not when he looked like he actually cared about something.

  Her, she realized. He cared about her.

  “How am I supposed to do this?” she asked. “Maybe you’ve got the wrong girl. I mean, I’m supposed to be good, right? But I’m not. So maybe—”

&
nbsp; “Shut up, darl.” He didn’t pull away. “Just stop. You’re thinking about this too much.” He dropped his hands and began to focus on taking care of her hands. “We’re all born with something. You’re born with visions that probably make no sense to you. You’re born with the ability to shoot an arrow at whatever or whomever you want. You have to practice. You have to do it again and again until you’re the best, and then you have to keep doing it to continue to be the best. And you can’t do that in two weeks.” When he finished with her hands, he placed his index finger under her chin and made sure she locked eyes with him. “You are the right girl, Reese. I believe that much.”

  Before Reese could stop it, tears began streaming down her cheeks and she launched herself into his arms. Despite the surprise, he caught her with ease. She heard him murmur, “I didn’t say that to make you cry again”, but he pulled her close to him and tucked her head under his chin and began rocking her back and forth.

  She closed her eyes and pressed her face into his chest, getting lost in his warmth, his scent of smoky pine. She could fall asleep right here, right now. In fact, she probably would have if a thought hadn’t crossed her mind.

  “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” she mumbled.

  “I, uh—”

  “You should come home with me,” she told him. “You shouldn’t be alone on Thanksgiving.”

  “How do you know I’d be alone?” His voice betrayed his discomfort. All at once, he became silent, leaving her hanging for so long that she was certain he was going to say no. “I need to pick up that shirt you stole from me anyway.”

  “I did not steal—”

  She was interrupted by his blinding smile and she felt her own lips tug up.

  “Ah, there’s that smile,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Now, would you stop crying already? You’re ruining my shirt.”

  When Reese told her parents she’d be bringing a boy home for Thanksgiving, they—especially her mother—were ecstatic. In fact, it helped distract her from the bandages wrapped around her daughter’s fingers and focused her attention on planning the perfect outfit for Reese. Edina insisted on a dress, but Reese was adamant about her choice of attire and won out in the end—only because Edina had given Carmen the week off and she had to learn how to cook an entire Thanksgiving meal for her family.

  By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, Reese was as nervous as her mother, yet she didn’t know why. Her outfit, a tight, high-waisted grey pencil skirt with a dark blue boyfriend shirt tucked in, was perfect; her hair, straightened and pushed back with a simple black headband, was perfect; her makeup, black mascara and pink lip gloss, was perfect. There was no reason to be nervous, and yet, here she was, pacing the room like she was waiting for a boy to pick her up for her first date. She was glad her father took her brother golfing for the morning or else they’d be making fun of her right now.

  The doorbell rang and Reese’s heart jumped in her throat. She expected to head down the stairs, but her mother, knowing who it was, called out that she would answer it. Reese’s feet stayed rooted in place and she pressed her ear to the door in hopes of hearing what was going on. They were too far down to overhear any conversation, but she heard his familiar footsteps. Before she knew it, he was knocking on her door.

  Swallowing, she rubbed her palms on her skirt. They were cool and damp, and she had no idea why she was sweating. When she opened the door, she was instantly greeted with those blue-brown eyes. She nearly laughed at herself. This was Ollo for goodness sake; there was no reason to be so weird about everything. She stepped outside in order to let him in, taking in his pressed, three-piece suit. It was a dark charcoal color with a sky blue collared shirt unbuttoned to the beginning of his chest underneath a vest and tucked into pressed slacks. His pocket watch hung from his vest and was placed in the vest’s pocket. His brown hair was pulled away from his face in a half ponytail while the remaining tresses hung freely, caressing the top of his shoulders. She grinned when she saw that he still had his scruff. He looked younger, much younger, and she found herself staring longer than she should have.

  “You came,” she murmured as she shut the door.

  “I said I would.” His voice sounded more raw now that he was sober. He wasn’t even chewing gum. His eyes surveyed the room, staying silent for a moment. Reese’s butterflies began to flutter in her stomach. When his eyes found hers, the butterflies forgot to fly and dropped. “I thought there’d be more pink.”

  “I only woke up in August,” she said. “Give me some time.”

  There was an awkward feeling between them and Reese still wasn’t sure as to why. Was it because he was in her room? Because he had dressed up? Because when she mentioned waking up, his eyes dropped to her lips and the sudden desire to have him walk over and kiss her with everything he had throttled her entire being without warning? Because she was licking her bottom lip, just in case? Because his eyes widened when he noticed it? Because they were alone together in her bedroom with the door shut and her mom too far downstairs to hear them?

  His eyes finally released hers. She could breathe again.

  “I was surprised your mom just sent me up,” he drawled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

  “She trusts me,” she replied. Suddenly, Reese’s eyes filled with tears and she blinked furiously, trying to will them away. How she could think about kissing Ollo—Ollo—when she had her family to worry about. She was being selfish.

  “Are you going to cry again, darl?” he asked, raising a worried brow. “I bought this suit specifically for today.”

  She chuckled despite herself, rubbing her eyes as best she could without ruining her makeup—hank God for waterproof mascara.

  “How can we do this?” she asked, taking a seat next to him. Their shoulders slightly brushed.

  “Do what?” he asked, playfully pushing into her shoulder.

  “This.” She looked at her room, still so bare. This wasn’t like her at all. Normally, her room would be trimmed in pink with pictures of Jim Carrey hanging on her walls. But her room was still white, empty, boring. “How can we celebrate a holiday when we know this war is coming? It’s pretending. I feel like I’m lying to my family.”

  “You think too much about the future and too little about the present,” he told her and surprised her by placing his hand over hers. It was bigger than hers, rough against her soft skin like he had worked hard for a long time, and warm. “Enjoy today with your family, darl. Let yourself have this moment of ignorant bliss because it’s highly likely you won’t get many of these in the future. Be seventeen years old for once.”

  She placed her head on his shoulder, nodding her head. “Thank you,” she breathed out.

  He didn’t reply but interlocked his fingers with hers and squeezed.

  The room was silent for a long moment, the awkwardness fading away. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, a small smile on her face. “You smell good,” she said. “What is that?”

  “Peppermint,” he replied. She could hear the smirk in his voice. “Shouldn’t we head downstairs before your father comes home and decides he wants to kill me for being alone with you in your room?”

  “Daddy wouldn’t kill you,” Reese assured him as the two stood up. “He’d hire someone to do it for him.”

  34

  Thanksgiving morning, Andie forced herself to wake up earlier than she normally would have and headed down the stairs in order to attempt cooking a Thanksgiving lunch for Jack and Beverly. When Jack had told the two he would be foregoing a photo shoot in order to spend the holiday at home, Andie pitched the idea of cooking the meal to Beverly as a surprise for him.She went to the store after work yesterday in order to pick up the necessary ingredients, paying for them herself. Since Beverly was just as nocturnal as her nephew, Andie wanted to have the food prepared by the time they woke up.

  Once the turkey was stuffed and in the oven, the table set and ready, once the fresh salad was tossed and the cold sides wrapped in cellopha
ne and carefully placed in the fridge while the hot sides simmered on the stove, she decided to get changed into something nicer than pajamas. She was surprised at how smoothly everything was going in the kitchen, though she was nowhere near aficionado status. In fact, maybe cooking wasn’t as bad as she originally thought. Maybe if she cooked more, she might not only enjoy it, but actually be good at it.

  It took her twenty minutes to change into a red sun dress with floral printing and pin her bangs back with bobby pins. She put on light makeup before heading down the stairs. Jack’s tall frame bent over the stove caused her to freeze and her heart tried to choke her throat. He was dressed nicely, and when he turned, somehow knowing that she was there watching him, her breath vanished. He looked just as beautiful as he was, which wasn’t all that surprising, and yet her body still reacted to him as though it was the first time she had ever seen him. This feeling was nothing new. It had been happening way more frequently now that she was technically living with him, and she had an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach that this was only going to get worse.

  She more than liked him, but for now, Andie was unwilling to say love. It wasn’t denial, per se, but saying the word made it true and she wasn’t ready for that confrontation just yet.

  However, it was getting much more difficult to separate herself from the word when he looked the way he did and when his eyes were looking at her the way they were right now. Like she was the only thing that was important to him in this moment. He wore a dark blue v-neck sweater with a white long-sleeved shirt underneath rolled up to the elbows—the same one he wore that fateful day they met—and brown slacks. His hair was combed back from his face which brought out the contrasting features, but it was done in such a way that Andie’s fingers itched to mess the brown locks up.