Darker Than Love

by Charmaine Pauls

  My heart stampedes like a runaway bull as we make our way to the small chapel where visitors and patients go to pray. The chapel was Adami’s idea. I was adamant about bringing Mina there in a wheelchair, but my girl didn’t want to hear about it. She insisted on walking in by herself, gunshot wound or not. She’s a tough princess.

  Hanna and the priest are already there. Hanna hugs me when I kiss her cheek. Since neither Ilya nor I had thought about flowers, Anton picked some in the garden—cornflowers and white violets tied with a blue ribbon one of the nurses provided.

  I take my place at the small altar with Anton and Ilya flanking me. When Adami opens the door, I turn to face my bride.

  Dressed in a short, white, A-line dress with a whimsical boa feather collar, Mina looks like a vision, the sum of my dreams come true. She’s perfect, down to her white clinic slippers. My throat goes dry, my chest feeling like it’s about to burst from the emotions inside. Ilya wouldn’t let me see the dress before this. I have to admit, he did great. Even if he forgot shoes for Mina, too. Not that it matters what she wears. A potato sack would’ve been perfect.

  Anton rushes forward and hands Mina the makeshift bouquet before offering his arm to lead her down the aisle. As she walks toward me, straight and proud despite her injury, my past and future fall away. All that has been and will be turns inconsequential in the enormity of the moment, the moment in which she freely chooses to become mine.

  I give up on containing my emotions. What I feel is too much for any man to conceal. I let it flow, let her smile light up my life and give meaning to my existence. I let her invade my soul and take my heart prisoner. She’s sublime. Beautiful. Sheer perfection.

  The priest says what priests say at wedding ceremonies, but I hardly hear the words. I’m too aware of Mina’s small body and how good it feels where our sides touch. I’m too aware of her smell and the warmth of her skin when I grip her delicate hand and slide the ring over her finger. The ruby is red like the blood she shed for me, red like my love for her.

  “I do,” she says, and my world turns just right.

  She’s mine.

  For the rest of our lives.

  Epilogue: Mina

  Prague, 3 Years Later

  The view over Prague is magnificent. The restaurant is on the hill next to the castle, showcasing the domed copper rooftops that dominate the cityscape like a scene straight from a fairy tale. The only sight more beautiful than the one below is the man sitting across from me.

  Yan brushes back his dark hair with a big, masculine hand. The gesture is innocent, but when I remember what those hands are capable of, a spark lights in my belly. The way his jacket fits his broad shoulders kindles that spark into a flame. His eyes are alight with the knowledge of what he does to me, and the fire in those jade-green depths is a promise of what will happen later at our apartment.

  I appreciate that he kept the place. It holds memories for me. Fond ones.

  When the waiter has poured the champagne, Yan clinks his glass against mine. “To three years.”

  “Three years,” I echo.

  Three years in remission. It hasn’t always been easy, but true to his word, Yan was there for me. He told me I was strong when I was physically weak. He told me I was beautiful when I lost all my hair. He fed and bathed me. He held and comforted me. We celebrated the small milestones together. Then the bigger ones. He fought and rejoiced with me. He held me when I had my nightmares. He still does, although these days they’re less frequent. He didn’t spare any expenses with the medical care at our Mozambican home. He hired a whole team to take care of Hanna and me, to cook and clean and nurse us. He never left my side. Not once. He was my rock when Hanna quietly passed away in her sleep last year. The hole her absence left still hurts, but sharing my grief with Yan makes it more bearable.

  Leaning over the table, he grips a lock of my shoulder-length hair and lets it slide through his fingers. It’s a seductive touch, one that makes me press my knees together under the table to still the ache between my legs.

  “I like the dress,” he says in a low voice, brushing a finger along the curve of my neck to my shoulder. Goosebumps follow in the wake of his touch.

  He should like it. He bought it. The dress is very feminine, a lace-over-silk creation that falls mid-thigh.

  I give him a heated look. “I like us.”

  “Do you now?” His timbre is rough, lustful.

  “We said we were going sightseeing this afternoon,” I remind him with a smile. So far, we haven’t seen much more than the inside of his bedroom. Our bedroom.

  My phone vibrates on the tabletop. I glance at the screen. Unlisted number. A second later, Yan’s phone vibrates.

  Holding each other’s eyes, we sip our champagne. This is supposed to be a sentimental holiday to celebrate my third year of being healthy. We’re not supposed to work. But I see the temptation in his gaze.

  I narrow my eyes in a dare. Kicking off a shoe, I trail my toes up his leg. He stiffens, swallows visibly, and catches my foot before I reach my destination. Placing my foot in his lap, he massages it gently even as his attention sharpens. He’s watching me like a hawk, calling the bluff of my failed distraction.

  Another moment of silent challenge passes.

  When I reach for my phone, lightning fast, he moves too. We’re both unlocking our screens, our fingers tapping fast.

  I hit send. “It’s mine.”

  He drags a heated gaze over me. “Not if I beat you to it.”

  “You won’t dare.”

  He raises a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

  “You did the job in Poland.”

  “You did the one in Angola.”

  My smile is seductive. “Ladies first.”

  “Oh, but my princess is only a lady when it suits her.” He strokes a thumb over the arch of my foot. “We could do the job together, split it fifty-fifty.”

  “Three million each?” I pout. “I had my heart set on six.”

  “What’s mine is yours anyway, Minochka.” His smile is pure sex.

  “If you put it like that, how can I resist?”

  He checks his watch. “If we hurry, we can catch a flight and make it to the meeting point in time.”

  “Should we get the check?”

  Pushing to his feet, he pulls out my chair. “Only if we go Dutch.”

  Holding hands, we hurry outside into the magnificent sunlight that bounces off the Vltava River. The sound of our shoes falls on the cobblestone street, a happy rhythm that echoes in the beat of my heart. My breathing spikes with the excitement that always comes with a job.

  I feel the pull of danger.

  I feel alive.

  Yan tugs on my hand, changing direction toward an alley. “Shortcut.”

  Laughing, high on life and happiness, I follow him down the narrow, shadowed passage. The breath leaves my body when Yan grabs me around the waist and pushes my back against the rough wall.

  He cages me in between his arms, trapping me with the weight of his hips. “I think we can spare a minute.”

  “We’re going to miss the flight,” I say, already reaching for his belt.

  He slides a palm up the inside of my leg, over the thigh holster with my knife and pistol, instantly making me wet. “We’ll take our own plane.”

  “In that case…” Taking the pistol from the back of his waistband, I drop to my knees and carefully lay the weapon at his feet.

  “Fuck, Mina.” He catches my head between his hands, his eyes ablaze with need and love. “I can’t get over you. Ever.”

  Unzipping his pants, I stare up at his face. “Then don’t.”

  He threads his fingers through my hair, pulling just enough to make my feminine parts clench. “You’re fucking dangerous.”

  I am. And so is he. My need for him is all-consuming. Complete. I don’t care where we are or what time it is.

  “Do it,” he says through gritted teeth, already impatient.

  So I do. I give him
what he wants, and he lets me. He lets me disarm him. He lets me make him vulnerable. He lets me conquer him before spinning us around and conquering me right back.

  Together, we find light within the darkness, and warmth in the cold pastures of our hearts.

  The End

  Thank you for reading! If you would consider leaving a review, it would be greatly appreciated.

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  * * *

  Dark & Contemporary Romance by Anna Zaires:

  The Twist Me Trilogy – Nora & Julian’s dark, twisted love story

  The Capture Me Trilogy – Lucas & Yulia’s breathtaking enemies-to-lovers romance

  The Tormentor Mine Series – Peter & Sara’s intense captive romance, where we first meet Yan & his crew

  Wall Street Titan – a sizzling contemporary romcom featuring a billionaire and a cat lady

  Dark & Contemporary Romance by Charmaine Pauls:

  Beauty in the Broken – a dark forced marriage romance about revenge and salvation

  The Loan Shark Duet – a dark mafia romance with a Beauty and The Beast theme

  The Age Between Us Duet – an older-woman/younger-man romance that will melt your e-reader

  Catch Me Twice — a heartbreaking second chance romance about betrayal and redemption

  Sci-Fi Romance by Anna Zaires:

  The Mia & Korum Trilogy – an epic sci-fi romance with the ultimate alpha male

  The Krinar Captive – Emily & Zaron’s captive romance, set just before the Krinar Invasion

  The Krinar Exposé – Anna’s scorching hot collaboration with Hettie Ivers, featuring Amy & Vair—and their sex club games

  The Krinar World stories – Sci-fi romance stories by other authors, set in the Krinar world

  Sci-Fi Romance by Charmaine Pauls:

  The Krinar Experiment – alpha alien kidnapping at its hottest, set in Anna Zaires’s Krinar world

  The Krinar’s Informant – an alpha alien captive romance, set in Anna Zaires’s Krinar world

  Sci-fi and Fantasy Collaborations by Anna Zaires and her husband, Dima Zales:

  The Girl Who Sees – the thrilling tale of Sasha Urban, a stage illusionist who discovers unexpected secret powers

  Mind Dimensions – the action-packed urban fantasy adventures of Darren, who can stop time and read minds

  Upgrade – the mind-blowing technothriller featuring venture capitalist Mike Cohen, whose Brainocyte technology will forever change the world

  The Last Humans – the futuristic sci-fi/dystopian story of Theo, who lives in a world where nothing is as it seems

  The Sorcery Code – the epic fantasy adventures of sorcerer Blaise and his creation, the beautiful and powerful Gala

  And now, please turn the page for a little taste of Dubious by Charmaine Pauls and Tormentor Mine by Anna Zaires.

  Excerpt from Dubious by Charmaine Pauls

  I’m a loan shark. Breaking people is in my blood. The Haynes’s were supposed to be a straightforward job. Go in and pull the trigger twice. One bullet for Charlie, one for his sister. But when I saw Valentina, I wanted her. Only, in our world, those who owe us don’t get second chances. No way in hell will my mother let her live. So I devised a plan to keep her.

  * * *

  It’s depraved.

  It’s immoral.

  It’s dubious.

  * * *

  It’s perfect.

  Just like her.

  The knock on the door startles me, even if I expected it. I can’t move. I should’ve taken Charlie and run last night. No, they would’ve found us. Then it would’ve been worse. You can’t outrun The Breaker.

  Another knock falls, harder this time. The sound is hollow on the false wood.

  “Stand up straight.” Don’t show your fear, I want to say, but Charlie won’t understand.

  No third knock comes.

  The door breaks inward, pressed wood splintering with a dry, brittle sound. Three men file through the frame to make my worst nightmare come true. They’re carrying guns. Dark complexions, Portuguese, except for the one in the middle. He’s South African. He moves with a limp, his right leg stiff. Gabriel is even uglier up close. In the daylight, the blue of his eyes look frozen. They hold the warmth of an iceberg as his gaze does a merry-go-round of the room, gauging the situation to the minutest details with a single glance.

  He knows we’re unprotected. He knows we’re frightened, and he likes it. He feeds off it. His chest swells, stretching the jacket over his broad shoulders. He taps the gun against his thigh while his free hand closes and opens around empty air.

  Tap, tap. Tap, tap.

  Those hands. My God, they’re enormous. The skin is dark and rough with strong veins and a light coat of black hair. Those are hands not afraid of getting dirty. They’re hands that can wrap around a neck and crush a windpipe with a squeeze.

  I swallow and lift my gaze to his face. He’s no longer taking stock of the room. He’s assessing me. His eyes run over my body as if he’s looking for sins in my soul. It feels as if he cuts me open and lets my secrets pour out. He makes me feel exposed. Vulnerable. His presence is so intense, we’re communicating with the energy alone that vibrates around us. His stare reaches deep inside of me and filters through my private thoughts to see the truth, that his cruel self-assurance stirs both hate and awe. It’s the awe he takes, as if it’s his right to explore my intimate feelings, but he does so probingly, tenderly almost, executing the invasive act with respect.

  Then he loses interest. As soon as he’s sucked me dry, I cease to exist. I’m the carpet he wipes his feet on. His expression turns bored as he fixes his attention on Charlie.

  Taking back some power, I say, “What do you want?”

  His lips twitch. He knows I’m bluffing. “You know why I’m here.”

  His voice is deep. The rasp of that dark tone resonates with authority and something more disturbing––sensuality. He speaks evenly, articulating every word. Somehow, the musical quality and controlled volume of his voice make the statement sound ten times more threatening than if he’d shouted it. Under different circumstances I would’ve been enchanted by the rich timbre. All I feel now is fear, and it’s reflected on Charlie’s face. I hate that I can’t take it away for him.

  “I’ll only ask you once,” Gabriel says, “and I want a simply yes or no answer.” Tap, tap. Tap, tap. “Do you have my money?”

  Spatters of words dribble from Charlie’s lips. “I–I do–don’t li–like them. Not ni–nice me–men.”

  The man on the left, the one with the lime green eyes, lifts his gun and aims at Charlie’s feet. It happens too fast. Before I can charge, his finger tightens on the trigger. The silencer dampens the shot. I wait for the damage, blood to color the white of Charlie’s tennis shoe, but instead there’s a wail, and Puff falls over.

  Oh, no. Please. No. Dear God. No, no, no.

  It has to be a horror movie, but the hole between Puff’s eyes is very real. So is the blood running onto the linoleum. The lifeless body on the floor unfurls a rage in me. He was only a defenseless animal. The unfairness, the cruelty, and my own helplessness are fuel on my shocked senses.

  In a fit of blind fury, I storm the man with the gun. “You sorry excuse of a man!”

  He ducks, easily grabbing both my wrists in one hand. When he aims the gun at my head, Gabriel says, his beautiful voice vibrating like a tight-pulled guitar string, “Let her go.”

  The man obliges, giving me a shove that makes me stumble. The minute I’m free, I go for Gabriel, punching my fists in his stomach and on his chest. The more he stands there and takes my hammering, my assault having no effect on him, the closer I come to tears.

  Gabriel lets me carry on, to make a fool of myself, no doubt, but I can’t help it. I go on until my energy is spent, and I have to stop in painful defeat. Going down on my knees, I feel P
uff’s tiny chest. His heartbeat is gone. I want to hug him to my body, but Charlie is huddled in the corner, ripping at his hair.

  Ignoring the men, I straighten and cup Charlie’s hands, pulling them away from his head. “Remember what I said about being brave?”

  “Bra–brave.”

  So much hatred for Gabriel and his cronies fills me that my heart is as black as a burnt-out volcano. There’s no space for anything good in there. I know I shouldn’t give in to the darkness of the sensations coursing through my soul, but it’s as if the blackness is an ink stain that bleeds over the edges of a page. I embrace the anger. If I don’t, fear will consume me.

  Gabriel gives me a strangely compassionate look. “You owe me an answer.”

  “Look around you.” I motion at our flat. “Does it look like we can afford that kind of money? You’re a twisted man for giving a mentally disabled person a loan.”

  His eyes narrow and crinkle in the corners. “You have no idea how twisted I’m willing to get.” Gabriel grasps Charlie by the collar of his T-shirt, dragging him closer. “For the record, if you didn’t want your brother to make debt, you should’ve declared him incompetent and revoked his financial signing power.”

  “Leave him alone!”

  I grab Gabriel’s arm and hang on it with my full weight, but it makes no difference. I’m dangling on him like a piece of washing on a line. He swats me away, sending me flying to the ground, and presses the barrel of his pistol against my brother’s soft temple where a vein pulses with an innocent life not yet lived.

  “Va–Val!”

  He cocks the safety. “Yes or no?”

  “Yes!” Using the wall at my back for support, I scramble to my feet. “I’ll pay it.”