Awaken The Dark Paradise Chronicles 1

by Isadora Brown

  The man had never found himself with conflicting emotions before. He was always incredibly sure of himself, sure of his decisions, and never looked back once they were made. He had no regrets and nothing he had to amend. Now … even he could not deny that what had taken place between him and Keirah changed something inside of him, and he wasn’t sure what that was. He had so many questions, all of them worrisome: would she continue to stay with him throughout his criminal career? Would she wake up in the next few hours regretting what had taken place? Would she want to leave? Did he want her to leave?

  No. Of course not.

  But …

  He hated to admit it, but Kane was right. Keirah was a liability. Noir found it rather odd that he actually cared for somebody's welfare other than his own. He never had, and probably never would again. He knew from the minute he laid eyes on her, sitting behind that desk at Hawkins’ practice, that something about her was off, not quite right. Now here he was, wandering the streets of the Zone in the middle of the night, wondering what to do and how he was feeling. He remembered when he first told her he loved her, and now he was afraid there might actually be validity behind the words. There was never a moment in his life when he had felt more connected than he had felt with her a few hours ago. He had never opened up to anybody in that way previously, and the emotions that came afterward frightened him to no end. He didn't want to feel all of these things, and yet, deep down, he knew he couldn't—wouldn’t—turn her away. Nothing would hurt him more than if something or someone actually hurt her. Of course, he would never admit it out loud, but he felt it nonetheless. His enemies - his own demons - would always have that to hold against him.

  Maybe it wouldn't be so bad as long as he got to hold her against him.

  At this moment, he had to figure out if she was worth his life, while wondering if she felt that he was worth hers. To be completely uncaring as a criminal was something he had achieved with ease. He didn't have to worry about anybody; his life was in his hands, and it was an easy tool to bargain with. But just the thought of anyone looking at her the wrong way caused his blood to boil, and he gritted his teeth. He couldn't be a good villain and love somebody at the same time, could he?

  When Keirah awoke the next morning, she immediately noticed Noir’s absence. Before she could stop herself, a tiny frown caused her lips to turn down into a subtle pout. After blinking a couple of times to get used to the light seeping through the blinds, she yawned and stretched. She threw her legs over the side of the bed, bracing herself for the cold, and stood. She padded over to the dresser and immediately felt the soreness between her thighs. Keirah blushed just thinking about it, but a smile touched her lips as she grabbed one of Noir’s collared shirts and threw it over her body. It went a few inches past her derrière, but she slipped on a pair of boy shorts so she wouldn’t accidentally flash anyone that might be present without her knowledge.

  When her eyes flitted over to the piano, she walked over to it and sat on the bench. Her mind went back to the beautiful composition he played for her and she hoped that maybe when he returned from wherever he was, he might play for her again. Her thoughts drifted over the previous night and though she had every reason to regret what happened, she didn’t.

  She loved him. She knew it wasn’t the typical fairytale love, but it was a type of love, and just because it wasn’t normal didn’t mean it ranked any less than anyone else’s definition of the word. She loved him.

  It was so much easier to believe now.

  And she knew that in some form, he cared about her too.

  Keirah yawned once again as she heard the door to the apartment open. A bright smile encompassed her face at the knowledge of his return, and she stood up and headed into the living room so she could greet him. However, instead of seeing the svelte form of her lover, Keirah found three unfamiliar men all dressed in black with pink rosebuds attached to the left side of their lapels. They wore black and white face paint and golf caps. To Keirah, they looked like mimes. Her brows shot up at the exact moment her heart stopped; she knew something was wrong. Where was Noir? And who were these men?

  The man in the middle grinned at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Keirah swallowed and unconsciously felt herself back up. They responded by splitting up and heading toward her. One went left, one went right, and the one in the middle came at her directly. There was little chance she could escape. Her knees shook as she dashed back to the bedroom, but before she could slam the door shut, the man in the middle managed to get inside.

  She had no idea what to do. She wasn’t sure where Noir was, she wasn’t sure if he was all right, and she wasn’t sure what these men wanted. All she knew was that they were coming for her and they didn’t appear to be friendly.

  The man leapt over the bed to grab her, but she managed to dodge him. She knew this was a losing battle, but she refused to go down without a fight. When he lunged at her again, she curled her fingers into a fist and packed as much power as she could into her punch. He didn’t seem to expect her to throw a hit and actually staggered back, gripping his cheek. Keirah wasn’t sure what to do next. All she could feel was the searing pain that erupted in her hand. The two other men walked into the room just as the one in the middle tackled her to the floor. He underestimated himself, and instead of hitting the ground, her head snapped back and hit the piano.

  Everything went black.

  It was roughly 8:30 in the morning when Noir decided to return from his walk. He was still conflicted about his unnecessary and unwanted feelings for Keirah, which was odd since he had a solution to pretty much every problem. Even he couldn’t deny that whatever he felt for her was something significant, and though he was far from being a romantic, he didn’t exactly want to let that feeling go. He hadn’t grown bored of her in the couple of months that he had known her; rather, he grew more intrigued with her the more time he spent with her. To him, her eyes told him something new every day, and he loved peering into them. He loved touching her. He never knew a woman’s skin could feel so smooth. He loved talking to her and listening to her opinions. She was a mess of contradictions, which he found compelling, and she had yet to reprimand him for his deviant ways. She had a pureness in her heart that he doubted he could taint. A very small smile touched his lips as he headed back down the familiar streets, going unrecognized by passersby, and realized that at that moment, he was happy. And it was because of her.

  Happiness, he knew, was a dangerous emotion. It was easier to take away than sadness or anger, and for a small moment, he let himself revel in it. Nobody had ever made him happy before. He knew he didn’t have to change for her, and he didn’t want her to change at all. He loved every inch of her skin, every wave in her hair, every mark on her body. He didn't want to change her quiet demeanor, the way she seemed to take in her surroundings with a tilt of her head, the way she acted free when she was in his arms.

  He smacked his lips with his tongue, a chuckle passing through them.

  “Well, well, don’t you seem happy,” a voice said from behind Noir’s left side.

  Noir halted in his tracks and glanced sideways at his new companion, giving him an expectant look. He really had no time for chit-chat, wanting nothing more than to return home and crawl back into bed with his princess. Any distractions that prevented him from doing such a thing could easily be fatal for the person who dared keep him from her.

  The man looked oddly familiar, and it took a long moment before Noir remembered where he had seen him before. He worked for Kane. For whatever reason, Kane liked his men to dress like mimes. Noir arched his brow as a new thought took hold of his conscious. What in the hell was he doing in this part of the Zone? In fact, the way the man was staring caused anger to override his happiness. Something was wrong.

  “What the, hum … fuck are you doing here?” Noir asked.

  “I would be happy, too,” the man said, too quickly to be confident, “if I woke up next to that bombshell every morning. A little thin for m
y taste, but man, what a pair of legs, huh?”

  Before Noir could stop himself, he grabbed onto the black collar of the man’s shirt and easily lifted him off the ground.

  “You had, ah, better be carefulllll about who you are, um, referring to,” he said, his voice still somewhat calm, his eyes flashing gold. People began to notice the scuffle, but nobody attempted to break it up. Not in the Zone. “Especially if you want to keep that mug of yours so, uh, attractive.”

  Despite his fear, the man managed a nervous chuckle. “Oh, but see, I know who I’m referring to,” he told him. “Do you? Do you know where that lovely lady of yours is right now? Are you sure you know where she is, because I can guarantee you, one hundred percent, she isn’t there. She’s gone.”

  The blood coursing through Noir’s body went cold. Keirah was gone. Kane took her away from him. He had to get her back. Now. She was his, and for that reason, he knew Kane wanted her. With a push of his arms, he lobbed the man into oncoming traffic without a backward glance and made his way back to his apartment with a quickness no one knew he possessed.

  After throwing open the door, he searched every crevice of the house: the living room, the bathroom, the money room, where the cash had been 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, bringing inner peace. Noir’s shirt was still on her body 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.

  “So you’re the girl who has ruined everything,” a familiar voice drawled. He was loud, causing her head to throb more violently, and she whimpered, curling her body into 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 was 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

  Reese

  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.

  “Well, darl,” he said when she walked into the basement of Bacchus’ 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 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 now 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; 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, quickly replaced by worry.

  “Don’t know.” He popped another bubble. “All I know is that along with these visions, you’re supposed to be the best archer either 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 nock 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 Oll
o returned with Band-Aids and Neosporin. He pulled out a handkerchief and, since her hands were 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 she 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 hint 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—”