Catalyst: Book 2 in The Dark Paradise Chronicles

by Isadora Brown

  Keirah felt useless as she stood there while Noir and another man began tying up one of the guards while Right Hand and his partner headed into the bank’s vault. Her eyes were focused on Noir before flitting around to make sure nobody snuck up on him.

  One of the security guards reached for his weapon, but an accomplice slapped him across the face with the butt of his pistol and he fell to the ground, seemingly unconscious. With that, the henchman moved on, leaving the security guard as he was.

  Though it felt like an eternity, the robbery took less than five minutes. She saw Right Hand and his partner emerge from the vault with four heavy bags slung over each of their shoulders. They disappeared outside, placing the bags in the van before heading back and grabbing some more.

  Noir was circling, taunting. He had yet to say something, but he didn’t have to.

  A movement caused Keirah to glance over at the unconscious security guard. Except he wasn’t unconscious anymore, and the more Keirah thought about it, the more she realized he probably never was. She watched as he slowly reached for his gun before aiming it at Noir’s back.

  No one paid any attention to her.

  It took only a minute, but Keirah didn’t even realize she had thought about it. In fact, the move was so instinctual she didn’t think she had done it. But the Glock in her left hand, pointed at the security guard, a smooth haze of smoke coming out from the muzzle.

  She hadn’t killed him, but he was so surprised to have been shot in the first place that he didn’t seem to realize the bullet had torn through his collarbone and gone into the wall behind him.

  She was surprised by how calm she was, but then again, she was beginning to realize she wouldn’t hesitate when her lover’s life was threatened. She understood now, that feeling. She probably wouldn’t have even cared if she had killed him.

  No one fucked with Noir.

  “Who are you?” the man asked, after a howl of the pain.

  She didn’t even recognize her own voice. It was too calm after what had transpired.

  “Bombshell.”

  “You don’t have to do this.” The low gravelly voice caught her by surprise. She looked up, and there was Black Wing, in all of his dangerous glory, kneeling on the bannister of the second story bank building, his eyes so dark—she couldn’t tell what color—they were piercing straight through her. “You can still get out. I can help you. Let me help you.”

  She could still get out. She didn’t have to give everything up. She had helped Noir, and now she could leave. But….

  But she didn’t want to.

  “I know what I’m doing,” she replied, locking eyes with him. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anybody’s help.”

  It was an hour after the initial robbery. The henchmen were still counting and wrapping up the money on the third floor of the manor in a room adjacent to the one Noir shared with Keirah. Due to the fact that this bank was known for housing the money of politicians, actors, and even some of the mafia—both spiritual and Russian—they had gotten quite a bundle. In essence, they were rich. If Noir wanted to run away to Mexico, or even further down to South America, there was nothing stopping him. He could be royalty there with the money he now had.

  But money wasn’t everything, and he didn’t want to leave Onyx. At least not yet.

  Noir had decided long ago that he would only leave this place if it turned out that it wasn’t fun anymore. And for the time he’d occupied the city, Onyx had been fun. The fact that he now had Keirah by his side opened up a whole world of possibilities fun as well.

  Currently, Noir and Keirah were lounging on the first floor living room, sprawled out on the couch while watching television. Keirah was still dressed up in her outfit, because Noir seemed to enjoy it on her. It didn’t appear he was too keen on having her change out of it, at least.

  “May I ask you a question?” Keirah asked, turning her body so she was facing her lover. He cocked his head in her direction before locking eyes with her and perking his brow, indicating that she may. “If you’re not interested in money, then why do you steal it?”

  Noir turned, regarding her with his full attention while pressing his tongue against one of his canine teeth and making a sucking noise against it. When he had finished, he clamped his teeth together and pushed his lips out, giving her a dark smile. “Why, darling, because I, uh, can,” he said, and that was it. He said no more on the matter, felt no reason to elaborate.

  Keirah knew Noir well enough to know he wouldn’t continue on to explain whatever credo he lived by. His philosophy was simple; the explanations that were the simplest were usually his answer for everything.

  “This just in,” a pretty brunette reporter said from behind a desk as an urgent newsflash began.. “Onyx National Bank has been robbed! Horace Leechman, the bank's president who insisted it was impossible to break into it, now has to eat his words thanks to Noir and his accomplices. We are still receiving details about the case, but it is rumored they took eighty percent of the money and bonds located in the actual bank, which could total up to nearly one million dollars. No word yet on how so much money could be moved and carried so quickly, but sources are indicating that there is a great possibility it could be an inside job.

  “Black Wing made it to the scene and managed to get a hold of two goons, but Noir and his mysterious partner managed to escape.

  “As we all know, Noir somehow escaped from Underwood Mental Institution only a couple of days ago, taking familiar hostage, Keirah Shepherd, along with him after snapping the neck of his guard. There have been whisperings that Noir and Keirah had planned to escape together, and to protect her innocence, they made it appear as though she was merely a hostage. However, Commissioner Jarrett insists that is not the case. However, as we’ll soon show you, there is another accomplice involved in this particular robbery, and surprisingly enough, she is a female. What woman would knowingly team up with a madman?”

  Footage of Keirah in the bank while it was being robbed suddenly played on-screen.

  “Calling herself Bombshell, the woman appears to be eighteen to twenty-three years in age with brown eyes. Another key distinguishing mark is a ‘J’ that looks much like a mark on her left cheek. As of yet, she has yet to be identified, and we have no idea what the ‘J’ stands for. As you can see, she wears a skimpy 1930s style dress, and is thought to be armed and dangerous.

  “Noir has never taken on a partner. We are not sure if there will be acontinuation of the partnership or if this was just a one-time pairing. However, it is imperative that you remain safe.

  “For now, we are going to run the full surveillance tape in hopes we can identify those involved. If children are around, you may want to send them in another room….”

  Noir turned to look at the woman who was currently resting her eyes. She did look quite exhausted, but something about seeing themselves on television together…. He shifted his body until he was on top of her and he tilted his head downwards until his lips reached her neck.

  “Look,” he told her against the column of her throat. Keirah’s eyes snapped open and she looked him square in the eyes. “Look at us.”

  It was then that Keirah realized he must be talking about the news, so she shifted her head to get a better look at the television. It was then that Noir traced soft kisses across her jawline and all but attacked her lips with his own. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in his direction while simultaneously sitting up so that she was on his lap, facing him.

  Keirah immediately felt his hardness press against her thigh, as though the fact that they were on television together, breaking the law, exhilarated him. She didn’t care what it was, but she responded passionately to the fact his mouth had yet to leave hers. Noir gently pulled the dress down slightly so her breasts spilled out of their confines before placing his bare hand on one and breaking apart from her.

  She gasped at the sensation and could do nothing more than lose her fingers in his thick hair,
arch her back, and press his head as close as she could against her breasts. Her body moved on its own, as it slowly began to rock against him, despite the fact that they were fully clothed.

  It didn’t take long for Noir to get Keirah ready and such a physical act, but he always liked to check to ensure that she was ready for him. He lifted his hand from her breast and dropped it onto her upper thigh. Slowly he pushed it up until it was underneath the skirt of her dress. Noir took hold of her hips so he could ultimately control her pace, but God, he loved looking at her. The way her hair tumbled down messily, how she was wearing the dress while her breasts hung out as she was straddling him.

  God, she was beautiful.

  It wasn’t long before she peaked, shattering the tension around him. She bit her bottom lip as though to stifle the moan slightly, but even when she had finished, Noir wasn’t ready to stop.

  Without warning, he flipped her down so that he was lying on top of her but their bodies were still connected. He continued to thrust deeper into her, but his hand reached up and took a hold of her face, turning it so she could see the television. He wanted her to watch them while he was fucking her.

  So she did.

  Her arms tightened around Noir’s neck as she felt her tension build once again, and her breathing became hitched.

  Noir could feel her tighten around him, but still he persisted. He particularly enjoyed the sensation of climaxing with Keirah because it fed his ego and made her happy. And she was pretty good at holding on.

  He had taught her well.

  Still he kept going, grunting and groaning as he did so. It wasn’t until he heard, he watched, her shoot the security guard did he finally release himself, at the moment she let go as well.

  Noir pulled Keirah as tightly as he could against him, riding each wave of pleasure together until they were both still and panting.

  After a moment, Noir stood, putting himself away before adjusting Keirah’s dress so she was decent. He knelt down and picked her up, bridal style, heading for their bedroom.

  It didn’t take long before the two fell asleep together. It had been quite an exhausting day.

  Reese

  “Why are you here?”

  There was no warmth in Ollo’s tone as he cooked a rabbit over the fire he’d started. He refused Daphne’s offer of help and made the fire himself. He skinned the rabbit, cleaned it, and cooked it by himself as well. He tried to avoid all contact as much as possible, which was why he gave himself the task of cooking. His eyes kept flitting to the trees, waiting for Reese to emerge, bringing him someone real to focus on. However, the need to know why this person was here in the first place seemed to be more pressing than anything else.

  “I came to see her.” She smiled. Even when they were together, he absolutely hated her smile. It was arrogant and mischievous and lacked the warmth smiles usually held. Even now, she looked pretty—beautiful, even—on the outside, but she was empty on the inside. Not because she was stupid—far from it; in fact she was a master manipulator—but because she lacked feeling. Compassion. Heart. She was a stone-cold bitch, and the sex wasn’t even that great.

  “You saw her at the New Year’s party,” he pointed out. “Why are you here?”

  “I had to test her,” she said simply, shrugging her slender shoulders. She wore a simple maroon tank top and black yoga pants. Her hair was clipped back so it splayed out in messy array. “I had to see if she has what it takes to save us all.”

  “She does,” he insisted, his eyes flickering with the crackling flames before him.

  “She is no Pythia,” Daphne murmured, her tone harsh. “She does not recognize her strength.” A pause, then, “I also had to see the way you look at her.” Her hazel-gold eyes glanced down at her booted feet, and for the first time in a very long time, he noticed a flicker of emotion dance over her delicate features before she looked back in his eyes. He was caught off-guard by how vulnerable she looked right then. “You’re in love with her.”

  He didn’t even attempt to deny it. How could he, when the truth was plain to see on his face? How he had yearned to clutch her the way he had last night for every night onward. She had the softest skin and smelled like orchids. He was so completely in love with her that his poor, pathetic heart swelled at the mere mention of her name. Her eyes were his new favorite color; the feel of her sleeping beside him was his own personal piece of Heaven. Why would he deny something true? It wasn’t as though he was ashamed of her the way he was of Daphne, and he wasn’t ashamed of himself, as he had been with Pythia. It felt right being in love with Reese. To deny that in any way would be nothing short of an insult.

  “You disgust me,” she spat suddenly. Even in anger, she was beautiful. Hollow, but beautiful. She sprang up from the log she had been using as a seat and started to pace. “Reese is a girl. A child. How could you be in love with her when you have a woman directly in front of you?”

  “I will never love you,” Ollo told her, his voice firm, his eyes unwavering. “You cannot blame Reese for that either, Daphne. I just do not have those feelings for you, and I know I never will.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she let out a frustrated howl that echoed throughout the woodlands. “But why?” she growled. “Why her? Why not me?”

  “Because somebody else was made to love you,” he explained. His nostrils twitched and he glanced down at the meal he had been cooking and decided it was finished. “And instead of pursuing him or her, you’ve wasted time coming after me.” He took the rabbit off the fire with the skewers and placed it on the plate. He glanced back at the trees, waiting for Reese. Where was she? “Which again begs the question: why are you here?”

  “I—”

  “No.” He stood up. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say anymore. I appreciate the test you orchestrated for Reese, because she is far from perfect. She’s growing into the savior she must become. But I know your intentions were selfish. You care more about yourself than this impending war, and I guarantee that will be your downfall. And I will not feel sorry for you whatsoever. So get out. Get away from here. I don’t want you around Reese or around me. So leave. Go do something productive. Now.”

  “She’ll never love you like I do,” she said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Ollo said with a shrug. “Love does not require reciprocation. Being around her, being in her life is enough for me.” He narrowed his eyes. “Now leave. Don’t make me tell you again.”

  “This isn’t over, Ollo,” Daphne said as she began to stalk away from the campsite. “Mark my words, you have not seen the last of me.”

  “Maybe in my nightmares,” Ollo mumbled to himself.

  A splashing sound caught his ear, then a familiar giggle. Reese was in the nearby clearing, probably rinsing off. Maybe he should wait until she was finished and fully clothed before he went to go find her.

  But then again, maybe she needed a towel. Maybe she forgot one. He could bring one to her. And make sure she was safe.

  Before he could logically counter that thought with one that respected her privacy or giving her time to herself, he was off to grab a towel and ensure Reese was still one hundred percent safe.

  Sex.

  Reese couldn’t stop thinking about sex. With Ollo.

  And in her defense, it wasn’t all her fault. She clung the towel Ollo had just handed her to her frame and proceeded to follow him over to her clothes. Her vision became blurry until it turned black. She was having another vision. She could read the signs easily enough, having had two already. But this one was longer, much more detailed, so different than the other two. Silky soft warm sheets. Egyptian cotton. Her bare back. And then it began to play out like the scene of a movie, like a dream. Except it was a dream that featured her. In essence, she was watching herself. But she wasn’t alone.

  His hands clutched her hips so tightly she was certain she would bruise, but she couldn’t care less at the moment. She didn’t care about anything right now.

  His
lips feasted on the column of her throat and his fingers pulled her hair the way they might tug roots from the ground.

  Her heart was beating rapidly, but she clung to him desperately as she breathed in fresh air. She wasn’t nervous. It was as though she had done this before with this person…. She had no idea who he was, but his touch was familiar and his body was godlike. She swallowed as she continued to stare. She felt like a voyeur, but she couldn’t be a voyeur if she was watching herself, right?

  “Reese.”

  Her name. On his lips. She got goose bumps all over and closed her eyes of her own accord. She knew that voice.

  When she opened her eyes, she was back in the Onyx National Park, woozy and hungry. Her face was red as she hastily dried herself off and threw on her dirty clothes. She didn’t want to think of that vision, and even if she did, she couldn’t. She had to consciously put one foot in front of the other in order to make it back to the campground. Which took some time, because she never had been very good with direction, and the woodlands looked all the same to her. If Ollo hadn’t found her, she still would have been circling by herself, actively trying not to think about sex with Ollo.

  “I see direction isn’t your strong suit,” Ollo said with that boyish grin. “That’s something we definitely have to work on.” He continued to look at Reese with those murky eyes and found that for whatever reason, she could not meet his stare. Reese. The sassiest girl he knew was somehow unable to look at him. There had to be a reason why that was. “What is it, darl?”

  Reese’s head snapped up at Ollo’s probing question. Could he be nosier? Or maybe she was just that easy to read? She gave herself some time to think about it. She had two options: either she could tell him that absolutely nothing was wrong and give him an excuse about cramps, or she could lie and ask him questions about the vision, since there was no way she would ever straight up tell him the truth. The only thing that made her pause was the fact that she knew he would know she was lying. He knew her that well. Plus, when her face turned red at the thought of what she was really concealing as it inevitably would, he would know it was something embarrassing and continue to pester her until she eventually gave in and told him the truth just to get him to stop.