Harleigh_Dark Paranormal Romance

by Nikki Landis

  Volatile Vixens #1

  A Dark Paranormal Romance

  Copyright © 2018 Nikki Landis

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by iPublishGlobal

  Cover by Victoria Cooper Art

  *May contain triggers, recommended 18+*

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  ~ A Note from Harleigh ~

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Character Key

  Playlist:

  Also by Nikki Landis

  About the Author

  Dedication

  I’ve always loved Harley Quinn and the Joker. It’s a great storyline in addition to the crazy relationship and love they carry for one another. This project is my own interpretation, a unique story and twist on the tale and I’ve had a lot of fun creating a world I hope you, as the reader, will enjoy.

  Thank you to my beta and ARC readers who always support my work and are so enthusiastic about my novels and eager to give feedback. Without you, I wouldn’t have near as much fun.

  Thank you to my Harley Sisters – Daryn and Crimson. Mad love! We’ve been so excited about this series since I first thought of it. Crimson, you’re my bae. I have to say a special thank you to my PA, my darling friend Siobhan. Words aren’t enough girl. You complete me. Claire, you’ve been a godsend in my group and in my life. Thank you for sacrificing so much of your time and effort in supporting me. To Kathy and Denise – you’ve been in my corner since the moment we met. Love you to pieces.

  To my fans and readers – thank you! Every day I’m humbled and touched that you enjoy my books and continue to support me. This novel is especially close to my heart and I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing it. I’ll leave you with a quote from Harleigh’s playlist since it sums up my life from the past couple of months perfectly.

  “Living with the Villain, Pacing in my Mind.”

  – Wild Fire

  ~ A Note from Harleigh ~

  “This isn’t a story of happily ever after, sweet romance, and innocent childlike trust. There’s nothing easy or safe about its contents, but rather a bulldozing, disjointed nightmare that seems to worm its way into more than one tortured soul, a ravenous beast fed upon by the lies and deceit of others.

  It’s raw. Twisted.

  Dark.

  Brutal and unforgiving.

  But it’s mine. All mine.

  If you want to walk in the darkness, live a few hours in my unstable and maniacal shoes . . .

  Then you’ll have to take a walk on the wild side,

  But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  – Harleigh

  Prologue

  It all comes down to this moment. One fraction of a second in time that will dominate my thoughts and actions for years to come. As I stare down my enemy I realize that my entire life has been in preparation to annihilate the sick and twisted villain before me. He’s taken so much from my family and friends. He’s stolen from each of us – valuable pieces of our black hearts that we’ll never be able to get back.

  In a moment of ruthless decision I surge forward and attack. Maybe this is folly. Maybe it’s always been my destiny. Who knows?

  As the chaos erupts around me I lock eyes with true evil and recognize the twisted darkness and creeping shadows are a part of me, interwoven, as integral as the blood vessels and tendons that connect throughout my body. Destroying this tortured soul will also destroy a piece of myself. I sense my own defeat even as I embrace the knowledge that I’ll pay the price.

  With a giggle I rush headfirst into the danger,

  And embrace the madness . . .

  Chapter 1

  I’m obsessed with Harley Quinn. I love everything about her story and her character, her strength and her beauty, her wild and reckless soul. She’s sort of an obsession. Yeah, don’t roll your eyes. Everyone thinks superheroes are cool . . . but what about the villains?

  In my free time I read everything I can find on her and I watch my favorite scenes from her movies, video game cut scenes, and comic books just so I can relive every moment. I’m a serious YouTuber. Crazy, right?

  I know, it’s strange. Weird. Borderline unhealthy. Before you judge me, you should seriously check out Harley Quinn. Yes, I think if you took the time to do a little research you would understand my obsession. She friggin rocks.

  Why not idolize her? She’s definitely the total package.

  Let’s not debate this. Trust me, she’s amazing.

  I have a confession. I dyed my blonde hair to look like Harley. I wear mine exactly like hers, my eye makeup is dark, and I work out constantly so I’m in top physical condition. You know, so one day, when I’m confronted by my enemy, I can totally kick major ass like Harley.

  No, I’m not delusional. Yes, I made an amazing hammer like the ones she uses. I practice at a shooting range twice a week, carry a gun regularly in my cross body bag, and can wield pepper spray like nobody’s business. Disaster readiness 101.

  Makes sense to me.

  I love yoga. Yeah, I threw that in there. I like to relax and breathe, so it kind of makes sense to go to yoga class. If Batman shows up, I might ditch yoga, but not much chance of me missing it otherwise.

  Except for the Joker. Oh my God. The Joker. Did you know Harley is like crazy in love with the Joker? They have this amazing relationship together, a timeless love that survives the chaos and brutality of life around them. It’s intense but a tragically beautiful story. Anyway, if the Joker showed up in yoga I would be out of there so fast my best friend Ivey would probably freak out.

  Wouldn’t that be awesome? I would love to find a guy that was so in to me he fought the entire world for the chance to be by my side. Side note: I’ve dated some serious douchebags. More than my fair share so I’ve given up on bars. They suck. So do guys who pick up girls at bars. The sex is awful and I don’t like to wake up next to some prick who can’t remember my name.

  Tonight, apparently, I have to break my own rule. Ivey is insisting we go to a local club to celebrate with a group of friends. I want to say no. I’d rather go to the shooting range or the gym. At least if I worked up a sweat, it would serve a purpose.

  I glance at the clock. It’s nearly eight. Ivey will be here soon. In the mirror in my apartment I glance at my reflection. I’m going full Harley tonight. Black fishnet tights, black lace up boots that reach almost to my knees, little royal purple booty shorts, and a tight white tank top with giant metallic lip
s on the front that shows off a little too much cleavage, along with a bomber jacket.

  The jacket is really the best part. I found it at a thrift shop. I think it’s some kind of seventies cast-off. The material is silky. A mixture of metallic black, bright white, and shimmering royal purple.

  I know I look hot. The wink in the mirror proves it, even if it’s only me. I’m confident, perhaps a little egotistical and smug but I don’t worry about it. That’s alright. I am who I am. I don’t apologize for it and I don’t give a shit who doesn’t like it.

  I think it’s stupid to impress other people. Why pretend to be someone you aren’t? If you don’t like me or my attitude, piss off. I’m not going to change who I am to make anybody happy, especially some guy. I’m entirely too independent. Maybe if I actually cared about other people’s opinions I would make some kind of effort. But I don’t.

  Screw the world. What has society ever done for me?

  Ivey thinks I’m hysterical. She’s the only one I really care about, besides my older brother Devon. We’re the only kids born to Havanah and Charles Quinlan. My parents live in the country. They’re older. Hippies. Free thinkers. My mother had Devon at forty and me at forty-five. I think that’s why I am the way I am. My parents were the kind that let you do what you want. We kind of raised ourselves.

  I see nothing wrong with this mindset. My childhood was awesome.

  Alright, maybe not awesome. I like to live in my delusion but the reality is that Dev and I were difficult children and we had a lot of . . . moments. My parents indulged us but the truth is I was haunted by vague memories and nightmares.

  These thoughts of mine are interrupted when the doorbell rings. I answer, fully expecting to see Ivey.

  “Hey Leigh,” my brother Devon pushes his way through, followed by another guy that I dismiss quickly without looking at him.

  “Dev, what are you doing?” I half whine, feeling irritated. He always shows up to check on me at the absolute worst time. It’s like he has “Leigh is gonna get into trouble radar.” Annoying as fuck.

  He spins around, leaning against the doorframe to my small kitchen, and smiles. “It’s your twenty fifth birthday, so . . .” His words fade away as he looks over me, frowning. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  My chin rises up a notch. This attitude is all too familiar. Why does he always treat me like I am twelve? “I’m going out.”

  “Not like that.” He shakes his head, gesturing to my outfit. “If you think I’m letting you go . . .” His voice trails off as his eyes grow large. “Dude, are you checking out my sister’s ass?”

  “What?” I gasp, my hands on my hips. “Dev, are you retarded?”

  The loud chuckle behind me catches my attention. I turn around, noticing my brother’s friend for the first time. All I see is a wide muscular chest in front of me clothed in a tight black t-shirt with Dead Ringer, one of my favorite local punk bands, splattered across the front. Dark jeans (ripped and baggy, hanging low on his hips, but not in that saggy ‘I’m a douchebag’ way), a long chain attached to a wallet in his back pocket, and tall black combat boots. A long black trench coat falls to the floor with silver zipper accents.

  God, he’s dressed to kill.

  I might end up his next victim. The thought makes me shiver.

  “Hey, princess, my eyes are up here,” he laughs again and I resist the urge to tremble at the deep and sexy way his words run over me like warm rich honey. Yum.

  With arms crossed over my chest, more in annoyance than defense, I glance up. “Who are you?”

  Amber colored eyes meet mine, the exact same color as a nice aged scotch or fine whiskey. I might have thought they were fake, like those contacts you can get to change eye color, but these were real. They kind of shimmered as he slowly looked over me, like he was taking in every detail of my body and committing it to memory. They were dark brown around the edge, deep, almost cavernous in depth. The amber color mixed through like a splash of that warm liquor and almost made him seem inhuman.

  Damn, I was attracted to him instantly.

  “Derek.” He leans down, intimate, and whispers close to my ear. “You can call me whatever you want baby.”

  This time I visibly shiver and he grins, not the full grin of humor, but a sultry and seductive smile that makes my knees weak. “Ha, nice to meet you . . . Derek.” I turn back to my brother. “You have to leave. Ivey is picking me up any minute.”

  “Like hell I am. We’re going with you.” My overprotective brother at it again. I never have any fun when he’s around.

  Rolling my eyes at him, I saunter forward as the buzzer rings. The shrill tone bursts repeatedly in four consecutive blasts and echoes throughout my apartment. Ivey is downstairs, impatient. “Hey babe,” I answer over the speaker, “I’ll be right down.”

  “No prob. Get your cute ass down here, quick.”

  Laughing, I walk to my front door, open it, and wait in the hall for Devon and Derek. The scowl on my brother’s face confirms he won’t let me go alone tonight.

  “Nothing is happening to you on your birthday. Derek? You game?”

  He shrugs. “Sure.” His eyes meet mine. “I can watch out for Harleigh.”

  Devon grumbles under his breath. “You might regret that when you see how much trouble she can get herself into. Trust me.”

  “I resent that comment.” It’s impossible to say that without following it up by sticking out my tongue at him. “Get out of my apartment before I leave you behind.”

  They follow me out into the hall, I shut the door and lock it, tossing the key into my purse.

  “Do you have mace in there?” Devon is staring at the little bag strung across my torso.

  “No, but I have my little Bodyguard. Smith & Wesson have my back. Satisfied?” I shoot him a glare and walk to the elevator, impatience driving me to press the down button repeatedly. Devon is already getting on my nerves and it’s only been ten minutes.

  “Yeah, don’t forget it’s there.”

  Oh that was the worst remark to make. “Devon!” I’m screeching as the doors open and we step inside, shoving my finger into his chest to make my point. “I’m not that careless anymore, ok? Nothing like that is going to happen again.”

  Devon raises his hands in the air, a mixed look of frustration and concern etched on his face. “You’re too small and vulnerable Leigh. You know how I feel about it. Besides, this obsession with Harley Quinn is going to get you killed.”

  “What?” Pissed, I want to yell at him for bringing this up. Why say that to me?

  A hand lands on my shoulder. Glancing up, Derek’s jaw seems tight, almost angry. “Were you assaulted?”

  “Yes,” I admit, “but not seriously injured.”

  “What happened?” he demands, his voice cold.

  Jumping at his tone, I wonder why he appears so bothered. “I was mugged last year.”

  “Sorry princess,” he pulls me into a hug, which completely surprises me, and kind of creeps me out a little. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Hey, lay off my sister man.” Devon shoves him a little, laughing, but I think he’s serious.

  Derek smiles. “Like you said, she’s too cute and vulnerable.”

  “Ugh, God, you’re as bad as he is. See if I don’t ditch both of you by the end of the night!” Darting out of the elevator and straight for the front entrance of my building and the glass doors that lead to freedom, I call out the promise, knowing it’ll irritate Dev.

  Ignoring the comment Devon makes behind me, I wave to Ivey. “Damn, those shorts. Really?”

  “Now you know why I was staring at her ass,” Derek comments dryly.

  “Holy shit, don’t let her out of your sight tonight. She’s gonna get plastered just to piss me off and I don’t want some drunk dude taking advantage of her.”

  “Not going to happen.” Derek’s promise is made through clenched teeth. As I glance back at him, I catch his expression.

  Great. Did I just
gain a second overprotective older brother?

  Showing my annoyance, I roll my eyes at Ivey and she laughs, her gaze darting between Devon and Derek. She gets it, she’s met my brother many times before. This is why I love Ivey; no plan is needed because it’s already set. She winks in my direction and I know we’re on the same wavelength. Linking my arm, she leads me out to the waiting cab.

  The guys are straggling behind us and we seize the opportunity to ditch them, giggling. Hopping in and pulling the door shut, I motion the driver on, waving to the guys as we pull away from the curb and Ivey flips them both the bird. Devon curses and raises his hand to hail another cab as Derek laughs, winking at me. They’ll meet us there, probably at the entrance, but not before I prove that I won’t be ordered around.

  Sitting back, a smile plastered on my face, I enjoy the moment.

  Tonight was sure to be fun.

  Chapter 2

  The club is packed. Sweaty and gyrating bodies cover the entire dance floor as I move my hips to the music, listening to an all-girl punk band playing live tonight. Dead Ringer is set to play next weekend but this band is just as good. Ivey is jumping up and down with me, throwing her head back as she downs another shot. She can hold her liquor way better than me. With my low tolerance I was already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol coursing through my veins.

  I’m giggling as a hand meets my lower back, catching my attention. “Hey princess.”

  Derek. I’ve already memorized his sultry deep voice.

  Spinning in a circle, my arms thrown wide, I blurt out the first thought in my head. “Isn’t this the best night ever!?”

  He laughs. “Sure.”

  Dancing, I saunter my way a little closer, raising my hands in the air until they meet his chiseled chest. “Don’t you dance?”

  He’s standing perfectly still. No movement. A slow grin spreads across his handsome face. “This isn’t the place where I do my best dancing.”