Awaken: Book 1 in The Dark Paradise Chronicles

by Isadora Brown

  Dinner was long and awkward. There were a couple of times Andie let her mouth get the best of her without thinking beforehand. For instance, when she asked what Zooey did for a living, and the woman she replied with, “Oh, I’m an aspiring actress,” to which Andie quipped, as though her mouth was on autopilot, “Why does that not surprise me?” Jack shot her an unreadable look, and Andie quickly covered her tracks by adding, “You’re so obviously gorgeous that it would make sense you’d want to capitalize on that.” Jack smirked, subtly shaking his head in wry amusement.

  Once the plates were cleared away, the four got their preferred hot beverage but nobody ordered any desert. Andie was much too full and glad everybody else agreed to stay a while because she felt bloated and didn’t want to suck in her stomach so soon after eating. She also needed to try and talk Bill into showing her around the bank, but Jack had commandeered the entire conversation. When everyone was nearly finished with their drinks, Zooey had excused herself to go to the restroom while Bill took a call from his father in the lobby, leaving Jack and Andie alone.

  “So what do you think of Bernal?” Andie asked before taking a tentative sip of her coffee. “Do you think he’d be a good investment for the company?”

  “Oh, absolutely not,” Jack said, making a face as he shook his head. “Bill and I went to Harvard together before he got kicked out, and I really don’t … Well, to put it frankly, we don’t get along. There is no way I’d allow the Bernal name to have any association with my company. He was focused more on your neckline than investment talks anyway.”

  Andie’s eyes narrowed. “I guess that means you and Bernal have something in common then,” she retorted, shifting under his gaze. “You were staring at the drop-dead gorgeous, Super Duper model sitting next to you.”

  Jack’s eyes sparkled as he took a sip of his black coffee. “Is that jealousy I’m detecting in your tone, Andie?” he asked, a coy grin on his face.

  “No. Ha!” Andie said, hoping her blush wouldn’t give her away. “Jealous? Of her? I’d rather keep my extra IQ points and a sense of shame, thank you very much.”

  “Sense of shame?” Jack asked, his mouth going wide. “Showing up to a business meeting in that?”

  Though the two tried to keep their voices down, people began to overhear their conversation and turned to see who was getting the notorious billionaire so disgruntled.

  “And you call me jealous?” Andie seethed, giving him a dark look. “Why couldn’t Miranda make it? Really?”

  “It’s a good thing I did tell her I’d take care of it, isn’t it?” he said through gritted teeth. “For all I know, you two could have signed him without consulting me first. Do you know how much our stock would plummet because of a stupid mistake like that?”

  “Do you really think I’d do anything like that without talking to you first?” she asked, feeling like he had slapped her across the face.

  She watched as he visibly flinched and turn his eyes down to his coffee. Andie sighed and stood just as Bill and Zooey came back. She needed to get out of here, to focus on Keirah and forget about Jack, which meant the direct approach was best.

  “Bill, I’ve always wanted to walk around a bank afterhours,” she said, locking eyes with him. “Do you think you could hook me up?”

  An approving smile curled his lips. “Absolutely,” he said.

  “Andie.” Jack stood too, his eyes intense, pleading. The scrape of his chair against the wood echoed in her ear. “Don’t do this.”

  She almost listened to him. Almost stayed. But then Zooey grabbed Jack’s arm and it broke the spell. She clenched her jaw, the muscles popping, and with one last look at him, she turned away, allowing Bill to place his hand on the small of her back and lead her out of the restaurant.

  As Bill called them a taxi, Andie’s stomach started to turn. This was wrong. She shouldn’t be with this guy. Something about him was off. Why had his father brought him back to Onyx? Wasn’t New York where the money was? And why had Harvard kicked him out? If Jack didn’t like him, that had to mean something. Maybe she shouldn’t—

  No, Andie, she thought to herself as she slid into the cab. This isn’t about you. This is about Keirah and finding some kind of message she must have left because there is no way Keirah would have voluntarily participated in the robbery. And maybe I find nothing because the only training I'm privy to is what they do in Law & Order: SVU but at least I'll be doing something instead of just waiting around.

  Bill was talking about how his grandfather had opened the bank, how it was the most profitable institution in the city, how he was going to inherit it, and how he was going to make it so it accumulated enough wealth it caught up with Jack Phillip. Her eyes were locked on the window instead of the person next to her, and she had to strain in order to stop from rolling her eyes. But she forced a smile and nodded when she thought necessary to keep up the illusion that she was listening to him. Because it was just after nine at night, the city wasn’t as crowded as it normally was, so they got to the bank in fifteen minutes. As Bill paid the driver, Andie got out of the cab and headed up the steps to the locked doors of the sophisticated bank. It was too dark to make anything out inside but she tried. When Bill touched her back, she jumped in surprise. He chuckled while he pulled out the keys and opened the doors.

  The instant the doors opened, Andie sprang from Bill’s grasp and looked around. She still couldn’t see anything in the dark as she walked, her heels echoing on the tile floor. It was too quiet. She heard Bill shut the door and she walked further into the bank, looking for a scrap of paper, something that proved Keirah had been here. The bank had a cleaning crew. The cops probably found whatever they intended to find. She hadn't really thought this through.

  When it had been a few minutes and the lights still hadn’t flickered on, she turned, her mouth prepared to ask for him to do so when she faltered. Bill was standing close to her. Too close.

  “You know,” he said, his dark blue eyes dropping to her frame. “I remember you. From Phillip’s party. Phillip insinuated that you guys were together. But then he dated every beautiful woman he could get his hands on. When his bimbo mentioned the rumors about you and him sleeping together, I didn’t believe it. What are you, seventeen? And even though he’s only twenty-one, it wouldn’t look good to sleep with someone under the age of consent. Look at you. Look at those curves. Phillip doesn’t normally go for bombshells like you; he likes waifs. There must be something—”

  “Jack and I aren’t sleeping together,” Andie snapped. “We never have, we never will. Like you said, I’m not even his type.”

  “I know.” His eyes were clouded so she couldn’t read them.

  “I haven’t slept with him!”

  Instead of laughing or exclaiming his surprise, she watched his lips curl up and heard him murmur something like, “Perfect.” Before she could even blink, his hands were on her shoulders and he had pushed her up against a wall.

  Her heart jumped in her throat. “What the hell are you—”

  “You’re clueless, you know that?” he asked in a sharp voice before smothering her neck with kisses. She squirmed underneath him, her instinct to sock him in the face thwarted. His grip on her was firm as he spoke to her. “You don’t see the way he looks at you, do you? And if what you’re saying is true, and the two of you never fucked, then that means I have something he’s never touched. I’d be first. I’d best him.”

  Andie could barely hear him. She needed to get out of here. She should have listened to Jack. She shouldn’t have come. Her mind tried to come up with a solution, but her thoughts were too muddled. Her body tried to take over, wanted to react, but couldn’t, not now, not yet, and then—

  His right hand released her in order to rip her sleeve. He wanted easier access to her chest. It didn’t matter. Her arm was free, and while it wasn’t her dominant hand, she thrust her palm up so it hit his nose. She heard a crunch. He screamed and swore and slapped her face with the back of his hand. S
he didn't want to, but she yelped. Before she could hit him again, he grabbed her and bit her neck. She made sure not to scream this time, but a whimper slipped out of her pressed lips. His hands were all over her and telling her everything he was going to do to her. Her neck throbbed. She needed to get out of here.

  Without thinking, Andie lifted her leg up and jammed her knee into his crotch. That elicited a howl, a few insults, and the immediate release of her frame in order to clutch himself. This was her chance. She pushed off the wall and dashed to the doors, ignoring the pain, the fear, Bill’s yelling. She grabbed the door handle, and just as she was about to yank it, it opened on its own. Because her momentum was too much to stop so abruptly, she found herself pressed against a bare chest, wrapped in strong arms. She screamed and was about to start hitting her captor when she finally looked up and found herself staring into dark eyes. The top half of his face was covered by a mask, one that looked like it came from a masquerade. It, too, was black, like everything else he wore, which, if wings didn’t count, only included tight black pants and black boots.Rather impractical for fighting criminals, but he made it work.

  “You’re okay,” he whispered in a gravelly voice. “You’re okay.”

  Andie stared at the Black Wing’s face, the defined features, the high cheekbones, the thin lips, the long nose. His canines peeked out from between his lips and his eyes were dark, but not dark enough for brown. There was something familiar about him …

  “I want to go home,” she whispered. At first, she thought that maybe he didn’t hear her over Bill’s yelling, but after a moment, he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “Okay.”

  As though he were looking at something fascinating, he tilted his head and then reached out to touch the wound on her neck. She winced at the contact.

  “He bit me.” She swallowed. “I don’t know why.”

  “Once I get you home, I’ll take care of him.” He looked back at her, his eyes intense. “He won’t hurt you anymore.”

  She nodded and let him press her against his chest, moving her outside. She heard the snap of his wings as they unfurled from his body, and then they were in the air. They were really flying. Andie couldn’t help herself; she peeked out over his shoulder to get a better view of them.

  “Your wings look real,” she murmured to no one in particular. She tucked her head against his chest, letting his aroma of cologne, spice, and the night sky make her feel safe and relaxed. She was suddenly tired and couldn’t wait to sleep.

  Before she drifted off, she thought she heard him say, “They are.” But she couldn’t be sure if it was real or the beginning of a dream.

  29

  Keirah

  Do you ever miss it?”

  Keirah stopped brushing her hair and glanced at him from the compact bathroom. Noir was currently fixing his long, skinny tie, preparing to go on their second official bank robbery together. It was a week and a half after the first one, a Wednesday, and they had just finished eating breakfast. His unruly hair was already pushed back, preparing for the fedora that would sit on his head in a few minutes. Keirah was getting ready as well. Instead of something revealing, Keirah decided to go for casual. She had decided she would never wear high heels to a bank heist ever again, so Noir stole some sandals for her, which she broke in with relative ease. She wore a plain white tank top and blue jeans. Rather than wearing a wig, she straightened her hair and slipped on oversized sunglasses. If she did run into people she knew, she hoped they wouldn’t recognize her.

  Keirah still didn’t know how she felt about being Noir’s accomplice. In fact, she didn’t know how she felt about her entire situation. He had yet to actually spend any of the money he stole, and whenever Keirah brought the topic up, he either ignored her or changed the subject. Interestingly, he actually kept tallies of their takes and gave her fifty percent of their profit. She hadn’t spent her share either, so there was about seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash in the spare bedroom of the apartment. The two were conscious to stay away from the room unless he wanted to add money to their pile. She didn’t like the fact that what she was doing—what they were doing—was wrong. But she knew she couldn’t change Noir, and to be honest, she really didn’t want to.

  “Miss what?” she asked as she pulled her hair into a high ponytail.

  “Life-ah, princess,” he said, walking over to her so he stood at her side. He was still fiddling with his tie, so Keirah grabbed it and helped him fix it. He watched her intently, much like a church-goer would watch the cement floor during a prayer. “Mom, Dad, brother, sister. Your job-ah. Your home.”

  Keirah was silent for a moment and smoothed down the wrinkles before tilting her chin up so her eyes locked with his. “My sister,” she told him quietly. “I miss my sister.” She exhaled and looked down at her handiwork. Satisfied, she took a step back and cocked her head to the side. “What about you? Do you ever miss your family?”

  Noir’s gold eyes bronzed, hardening with such anger that Keirah could feel the tension brimming off of him. “I have no family,” he drawled.

  Keirah swallowed, but took a step forward. She noticed his lack of odd speech patterns. He was agitated. She also knew Noir well enough to know that when he was angry, he reacted with violence. She was playing with fire by coming closer to him, but the confidence that built inside of her wouldn’t be trifled with. Without breaking eye contact, she reached toward him until her hands cupped his cheeks. Then, before she lost her determination, she pushed onto her toes, closed her eyes, and gently kissed the right side of his cheek, brushing her lips across his scar. As she moved her face to his right, her nose brushed his. She kissed the other side the same way before rolling back to the ground and slowly opening her eyes. She dropped her hands from his face, her cheeks pink, and went to get ready. He let her pretend that nothing significant had passed between them, a gesture she was grateful for. When she was ready, the two left separately for their destination.

  Keirah couldn’t breathe. Something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. One of the henchmen Noir recruited must have had a problem with paranoia because he was currently holding Noir hostage rather than her. She had no idea what to do; she couldn’t exactly get up and attempt to reason with the man without giving herself away. She could feel sweat start to accumulate on her brow as she sat under the counters, huddled with other bank patrons, but her eyes were focused on the gun pointed at the pulse in Noir’s throat. The henchman was yelling, but nobody could make out what he was saying. Something about money, about snipers, about dying. Then he threw Noir onto the ground. He was stronger than he looked, and she flinched when she heard a crack as Noir’s head hit the tile. Keirah swallowed, clenching her teeth together. When the man pointed the gun at Noir again, she knew she had to do something. She pushed off the floor as best she could with her bound wrists, and then, as fast as she could, dashed over to where he was.

  The next few moments went in slow motion for Keirah. She leveraged her weight into Noir’s stationary frame and pushed him over just as the man fired the gun. The occupants in the bank were silent, but when she realized she was all right they started yelling. To them, she was a citizen who just saved the city’s most dangerous criminal. She was in such shock that she didn’t feel Noir push her away, jump up, and wrestle the gun easily away from the threat. In a manner of seconds, the man was dead on the bank floor, staining it with his blood, and Keirah was thrown over Noir’s shoulder. They rushed out of the building with nothing but their lives.

  It was only when they arrived safely back at the apartment that Keirah realized she was in any pain. She let out a whimper as soon as Noir placed her on the sofa. Hearing it, he turned back to face her and noticed blood dripping from her shoulder. She watched as his brow perked, and he plopped onto the coffee table in front of her, gently taking her arm in his hand to get a better look at it. He looked visibly upset at seeing her injured, causing Keirah’s stomach to flutter.

  Without a
word, he left to grab the necessary supplies to disinfect and sew up a small bullet wound. Once everything was collected, he sat down and took his time repairing her wound. As he applied alcohol to it, she hissed and made sure the tears in her eyes didn’t fall by biting her bottom lip. Once it was clean, he began to sew the wound shut. It didn’t look serious, only a graze. He must have sewed wounds up quite often because he was quick and careful. Before Keirah knew it, he was applying Neosporin to cool the wound and finished by bandaging it up.

  “You saved my, uh … well, my life,” he stated as he gazed into her eyes. It was a mere statement, with no inflection in any word except the last. It wasn’t surprised or condescending or grateful. It was just a fact. Yet the way he looked at her, so questioning, so curious, said much more than words.

  And then, without warning, he grabbed her neck and pulled her face toward him so he captured her lips with his. She felt her eyes slip shut, and as he probed her mouth with his tongue, she felt herself start to respond. Time went by, but neither took any notice of it, completely lost in their own world.

  It was only when breathing became a priority that the two were forced apart. Keirah had no idea how he did it, but when Noir spoke, he gave no hint of breathlessness.

  “You won’t say it,” he said against her lips, his eyes forcing hers onto his, “but, hum … you love me too.”

  30

  Reese

  Reese woke up with pain in her back. She hadn’t slept this badly since … well, she couldn’t remember. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep; she had stayed up past midnight in order to clean Ollo’s apartment. Surprisingly enough, once she cleared the bottles from the apartment, it wasn’t as messy as she thought it would be. If anything, the place looked empty. There weren’t any pictures or décor, nothing that signified this was his apartment. It was like he was here for only a temporary amount of time. Reese understood up to a point—who would actually want to live above a bar?—but she couldn’t help but feel sad at the fact that it didn’t seem as though he had somewhere he could belong.