“I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I will fucking fix it.” Releasing my face, he slams the door shut, making his way to the driver seat and starts the truck.
My body arches against the sensation of the engine. Groans and moans are the only noises I can make.
Hot. I’m hot . . . too hot.
I’m finally able to mutter a comprehensible word. “Hot.” He cranks up the air conditioning but it isn’t enough.
Eventually, he rolls down the window; the cool autumn breeze along with the cold air blasting from the air conditioning is enough to make my skin stop itching from the unmanageable heat.
Settling back in the seat, I muster as much energy as I can to peek my eyes open. Tanner’s hands are gripping the steering wheel to the point they are turning white.
My head rolls to the right, toward the cold air rushing into the truck. I can see blurs of colors passing by my eyes as we drive at what I can only imagine to be an obnoxious speed. Something manages to catch my attention though.
My eyes open enough to get a good view at my reflection in the side mirror.
My eyes.
My breath catches in my throat. My pupils . . . they are . . . a deep, dark crimson.
Red.
Tanner and Sadie’s story will continue in Onyx, book two of the VonRouge Series.
Sneak Peak of
Layers of Smoke
Chapter One
Sensory overload is the only way to describe the party I’m slowly winding my way through. The house is an immaculate, Spanish style oasis built into a desert mountain side. Music pulsates through the floor up my spine making my vertebrate coil with each beat. Loud voices ranging in every octave on the chart pierce my ears, while a slow burn runs from the tip of my tongue down my throat as I breathe in the pepper and oak of cigars.
The young and beautiful are out in full force tonight—girls in too short dresses displayed in every color of the rainbow, while the guys strut around in jeans and button ups. My strapless white sundress suddenly feels cheap compared to what these people wear.
A stunning blonde in a cherry red dress dances too close causing the fabric to skim across my hand.
Yep, definitely expensive.
This is definitely not the typical college party on fraternity row I’ve heard about, but the elite crowd schmoozing together.
No one appears to notice me, which is perfect since this party is not my scene. Tonight though, I will fake it till I make it. My eyes roam over the partygoers in search of my best friend.
“Addilynn! You made it!” Stephanie yells, emerging through a crowd, her bronze eyes twinkling in mischief.
Dancing and cocktails are Stephanie’s cure-all remedy to the curve balls life seems to throw. Tonight she’s on the mission to mend my broken heart and bruised ego, one glass at a time. After finding my latest boyfriend fucking the face of my math tutor, I not only became single but failed my final.
A double wam-bam thank you ma’am kind of day.
“Hi Steph.” I laugh as Stephanie’s tall, willowy frame collides with mine, engulfing me in a tight hug. She exudes confidence in the body forming, hot pink halter dress that matches the bright pink colored streaks in her long onyx hair. Her smile beams brighter than the marble flooring. Stephanie is everything I wished for in myself; confident, happy, and selfless.
“I knew you would come. I kept telling everyone that the allusive Addilynn was finally coming to party!” She grabs my hand and starts to drag me through the party. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”
“Okay.” I laugh at her demand. I try not to face plant in the nude wedges strapped to my feet.
Stephanie’s boisterous greeting seems to have gained a few interested stares but most of the party goers are too engrossed in whatever shenanigans they’re getting into to notice me.
Some people, however, do seem interested in my arrival.
Ocean blue eyes set off by buzzed dark hair catch my attention, but it’s the slight bulge on his hip, under his white dress shirt, that draws my eyes in. Squinting, I try to determine if it is what I think it is. A large sun kissed hand settles on his hip, resting on top of the bulge in a casual stance.
My eyes snap up to meet an amused smirk on the guy’s rugged face.
Guns are a common thing in the Arizona, especially now that people no longer need a concealed weapons permit. Hell, I had seen a man walking through the grocery store looking like he stepped out of a John Wayne movie the other day. However, seeing a young guy at a party with one does nothing to settle my rattling nerves.
Especially when he looks more outlaw than law abiding.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see the guy disappear through a set of double doors, shutting whatever is behind them off from the rest of the party. Something nags at me though.
I swear I’ve seen him before. Before my mind can conjure up theories, Stephanie pushes a glass of red wine into my hand.
The crowded kitchen is just as pristine as the rest of the house, state of the art appliances and sleek shiny surfaces.
“Drink up bitch!” Raising her own wine glass in the air, Stephanie yells out for everyone to listen. “Here is to getting rid of small-dick douchebags and the busted faces they fuck! And to finding a guy who is hung like a horse to ride into the sunset on.” Steph winks at me after her toast.
The girls around us all cheer, clinking their martini and wine glasses together. A laugh can’t help but escape me at Stephanie’s toast; only she can get away with something like that. With a shake of my head I take a sip of the wine, my eyes flutter shut, and I savor the taste of cherry.
Leaning on the counter, running my finger up the stem of the glass, I give myself a moment to process what happened today. It stings to be cheated on, but what hurt the worst is the time I wasted on that jackass, Ryan. Four weeks. Time I will never get back.
Thank God the relationship didn’t last longer than that.
The lies he fed me about being okay with waiting till I was ready for anything physical seem like a fucking joke now. I’m not a prude by any means, but I learned in my twenty years on this Earth that sex could be, and often is, used as a tool.
Loud laughter brings my focus back into the party. I try listening, sipping my wine, and pretending to be hooked on the latest gossip the girls around the island are going on about. Partying has never been my forte and trying to stay engaged in the conversation about who is doing who or what happened at the last party never can keep my focus.
There are a few things I took with me from my old life; the love of books and wine. Socializing was something I didn’t grasp then or now.
“Excuse me,” I interrupted, touching Stephanie’s elbow. “Steph, do you know where the restroom is?” I feel bad for interrupting her, but I need a moment alone. The crowd, the noise . . . I can feel the walls closing in on my anxiety rising with each passing second. This isn’t my scene, and if I don’t get out of this room, I’m going to end up leaving the party altogether.
The girl next to her looks at me with an odd expression. Steph giggles at my question, pointing to a hallway at the other end of the kitchen. “Duh, silly. Go down that hall and make a right.”
“Thanks?” I ask more than say at the odd exchange. “Watch my clutch, please.” With Stephanie’s quick nod, I leave the awkward moment. That other girl continues to stare at me with a confused look on her face.
She is probably questioning why I’m here in my cheap dress.
Stephanie comes from new money and lavishes in this lifestyle. I, on other hand, do not come from new money. When we met during freshman year at the local university, we looked like we would never have gotten along. My unusual, but natural light-gray hair paired with the tattoos decorating my skin stands in stark contrast to her polished raven locks and sun-soaked skin. Despite our physical differences, we subconsciously searched out something from the other. I need strength while Steph needs compassion.
Neither of us speak aloud of why we n
eed these attributes, but since we can’t possess them ourselves, we found them in each other. Our weaknesses built a solid foundation of friendship.
While I seek empty book and art stores, Steph prevails in crowds and excitement. We make it a point to nudge the other into these opposite worlds. Hence, why I agreed after a year to come to this party.
I had bid my time with agreeing to her monthly book club brunches. It isn’t exactly meet in the middle since I usually have to explain the book in the car ride over. But she gets mimosas and I have an excuse to add a book to my already full shelves.
Now tonight, I’m in her world; drinks, dancing, and guys. It’s amazing what a crappy day can push someone to do.
Sounds of the party drift away with each step I take, replaced with the muffled shuffling of my wedges. Darkness engulfs the hallway that leads toward the bathroom. Sconces twinkle star-like on the walls, providing illumination on the darkened wood floor. Turning around, I squint but can barely make out the entrance to the kitchen.
My fingers fidget with the edge of my eyelet dress as I debate whether to continue on this journey down the rabbit hole. Confused, I spin around and lose my footing. The softness of leather grazes my fingers as I feel out the wall for stability. The off balance and unexpected sensation of the leather wall shifts my mind into overdrive, all cylinders firing with “what if” scenarios.
I’m not afraid of the dark; it’s the unknown that frightens me. Like the ocean, you don’t know if a shark is swimming ten feet from you when the dark sapphire color is distorting everything. It’s a rational fear when you think about it.
My heart rate begins mimicking a hummingbird’s wings as I go further into the endless hallway. Sounds of my heavy breathing echo like the rolling of thunder in the silent hallways.
The leather on the wall is soft yet cool, velvety smooth under my palm. Willing my focus to remain on the unusual wall, I edge forward, desperately trying to rein in my rapid breathing. My fingers suddenly lose the comfort of the wall when a fork in the hallway appears—an endless abyss to the left and to the right. No sign of a bathroom or any sconces, either.
Shit. Did she say right or left? Why did I leave my clutch in the kitchen?
“I would remember her saying right. Right?” I whisper to no one. Looking to the left, I take a gamble.
Only a dozen steps down does a sliver of light appear off to the right. A door tucked away in an alcove. Relief eases the drum of blood pumping in my veins, but does nothing for my rapid breathing.
Sending a silent prayer of thanks, I wrench open the door.
An office looking room is on the other side, softly lit, with bookcases lining the walls, greets me.
Cozy.
My brain grasps what I’m seeing. Taking in the sight in front of me I can‘t help but laugh.
My sweaty hand grabs at my chest, keeping my pounding heart from leaping out of my body. Swallowing down the knot in my throat feels like nails scraping down, but the pain is a welcomed sign of relief. I’m pretty sure a few years of my life were just shaved off.
People having sex or even an actual bathroom would have been plausible to find. Guys playing poker, smoking cigars, and nursing amber liquid in glass tumblers is not what I was expecting. I can’t help but giggle at myself as I sag against the wall, needing the physical crutch after that adrenaline rollercoaster. I need to get a grip on this fear of the dark, it’s making me act crazy.
My eyes shut and I take a second to recompose myself, shaking off the invisible cloak of anxiety with a shiver.
I open my eyes to find every one of the guys has stopped whatever it was they were doing prior to my intrusion. All eyes focus on me. Heat radiates up my chest, flaming across my cheeks from the attention.
I let my eyes pass over each man in the room, primarily searching for an escape route. Blue eyes from earlier is standing across the room by a set of double doors I gather lead back out to the party. He flashes an amused smile at my entrance.
My eyes take in the men but their faces are blurring out of focus. I shouldn’t be in here.
“Are you lost, mi amor?” A rich, full-bodied voice with a slight Spanish sounding accent speaks, bringing my narrowing vision back to focus. That voice is like a magnet, making my head swivel toward the sound.
“Ummm . . .” I can’t form a recognizable word.
Five men sit at a mahogany table. The details fade in. Cards are laid out on the table. They’re playing what appears to be blackjack. A professional looking dealer sits on the opposite side. Each man is dressed impressively; dress shirts with jackets slung over chairs. They vary from shaggy hair to clean shaven but these men are all inked up. Rolled up sleeves and open collars give glimpses of art on forearms, necks, and hands. They are all handsome in their own way.
Then there is him.
He takes my breath away and I’m afraid he will never give it back.
Burnt chestnut hair long enough to brush his ears, disheveled as if has run his fingers through it frequently. Bronze skin stretches over sculpted muscles, screaming he has heritage of foreign lands. His soft looking, full lips contrast against his sharp jaw line covered by a rough five o’clock shadow growing in. It’s his eyes that capture my interest the most, though. I’ve seen golden eyes, but I have never seen eyes like his. Warm chocolate swirls into ribbons of creamy caramel, the colors battling to the surface, like good and evil fighting for dominance.
Then he blinks. His eyes become something I recognize. Scrutinizing.
“I asked you a question, mi amor. You will answer me while in my home,” his tone is demanding despite his calmly spoken words. It slithers into me like a snake, crushing my windpipe, making it difficult to form words. I wonder if his kiss would sting from venom. His words soak in through my lustful thoughts, slamming me like a semi-truck.
Oh my God, this is his house?
About the Author
Jacqueline Noir lives in Phoenix, AZ with her loving husband, three pups, and her “small human”.
She loves everything paranormal from the movies, television, books, and adventures to haunted places. When she isn't dreaming of werewolves, witches, and all things that go bump in the night, she is busy creating hot and romantic stories that bring to life all these creatures in their most alpha form.
Her stories feature kick-butt female leads, hot dominate alphas and a whole lot of wicked trouble. Her love for books has taken from being an avid reader, to a book blogger and now an author.
Her debut novella, Red, is the first in the paranormal erotic VonRouge series.
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Red (VonRouge Book 1) Page 8