Black Promises: A Dark New Adult Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  We didn’t talk about personal stuff though. Our conversation revolved around murdering Dr. Silver and all the filthy things Jarrod wanted to do to me with his single night of carnal lust. I enjoyed both subjects, even if I pretended to hate the second one, and hadn’t tried to steer him into talking about his personal life.

  Maybe I should have. I realized I didn’t know the man that I killed with very well at all.

  I closed my eyes and felt myself getting sleepy. I jolted awake with a sudden panic—the professor was still droning on—and looked at my hands. I expected them to be bloody.

  For so long I defined myself by my hatred of the man that hurt me and my brother. Whenever I had a spare moment, I daydreamed about getting my revenge, and now that it had happened, I felt an empty chasm in my chest. There was something deeply unsatisfying about setting out to murder the bastard—

  And doing it so quickly.

  But there was no other way. Jarrod was willing to help, but he wasn’t willing to rot in prison forever, and I wouldn’t ask that of him.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself. I felt panic rise up, fear and disgust lingering in my throat, and as soon as the professor ended class, I hurried outside, head spinning. I had to get some air, but even the crisp winter wind didn’t soothe the ache in my lungs.

  I pulled the burner phone from my backpack and texted him.

  Cora: We need to talk.

  He must’ve been between classes too, because he answered right away.

  Jarrod: No, nothing outside of the ordinary. After practice.

  Cora: Now. Please. I’m freaking out.

  Jarrod: Meet me at the library.

  I shoved the phone away. I knew this was stupid but I had to see him. I had to be sure that last night was real—and maybe he could tell me what the hell I was going to do from here on out.

  I really didn’t know.

  Jarrod was waiting in the lobby near the central elevators. He frowned at me and gestured with his head. I approached, but he turned his back and hit the call button. I hesitated, lingering a few feet away, and when the elevator came we got in together.

  The doors slid shut.

  He turned to me, a deep frown on his lips as he leaned close. “We shouldn’t be seen together like this.”

  My hands were shaking. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  He tilted my chin up. “Don’t apologize.”

  I was about to say more, but the elevator reached the third floor and stopped. He got out and stalked off into the stacks. I had to hurry to keep up.

  He wound his way through the shelves until we stepped into a small, secluded section. There was a single table near a large, rectangular window that overlooked the central quad. He walked to the window and looked out before turning back to me.

  “Do you come here often?” I asked. “You don’t really seem like the library type.”

  “Library’s quiet. I like quiet.” He came closer, his voice low and soft. “What’s going on?”

  As I stared into his pretty eyes, I felt like my freak-out was totally silly. I didn’t know how to tell him that we achieved the one goal I’d wanted my entire life, and now I didn’t know what the hell to do with myself.

  Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t care either way. That wasn’t his problem.

  It was all mine, mine, mine.

  “I woke up this morning and thought what happened was a dream. But it wasn’t, was it?”

  “No, freak, it wasn’t a dream.”

  “We did that. We—”

  He closed the gap between us and pressed a hand over my mouth. His palm was warm and big. He leaned down and pressed his lips close to my ear like a lover.

  “Don’t ever say it out loud where someone might hear. Do you understand?”

  I nodded sheepishly. He removed his hand, but he remained close.

  “I never thought it would happen,” I said in a rush before he could shut me up again. “I spent so long thinking and imagining, but I never wondered what I would do once it was over.”

  “You can move on.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “What do you want me to do about it? I can’t help your existential crisis.”

  That set off a pang of anger. “I’m not asking you to. I just thought—”

  “What, that I’d listen?” His lips curled. “That I’d offer you advice?” His hands grabbed my hips and pulled me against him. I sucked in a breath and resisted the urge to scream.

  He smelled like grass and aftershave. I struggled slightly, trying to pull back, but his grip was iron. His chest and muscular abdomen were like cut diamonds against my soft skin and I was flushed with desire, my cheeks pink and tingling, my lips swollen and parted.

  “I hoped you wouldn’t be a dick at least.”

  “Too bad, freak. I’m not the man you want me to be, but maybe I’m the man you need.” His smile was infuriating.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I can give you something to look forward to.” He leaned down again and for one heart-stopping instant, I thought he might kiss me. I felt irradiated, glowing bright with need, and that feeling contrasted with my anger and my disgust and my rage, all of it swirling around in the air.

  This bastard thought he owned me. I saw it in his eyes.

  And maybe he was right—maybe he did.

  “I don’t want anything else from you.”

  He tsked and cocked his head. “Come on, freak, it’s not about what you want anymore.” His fingers tightened on my hips. They were almost painful. “It’s about what I want and about what you owe.”

  “I said you could have a night. If you’re ready to cash it in—”

  “Not yet. Oh, we’re nowhere near ready for that.”

  “You can’t string me along forever.”

  “I can, freak. What are you going to do about it?” His laugh was maddening, because he was right, he was completely right, I couldn’t do a damn thing.

  If he went down, then I went down.

  Mutually assured destruction. That was the game I chose to play, and only now that it was over did I realize how dangerous my situation had become.

  I wandered into the spider’s web and there was no way out.

  “Either fuck me right here or let me go.” I stared into his eyes, mustering as much of that simmering anger as I could. I hated saying those words, but I needed to stand up to him or else he’d roll over me and keep on going until he had his fill.

  His face twisted in delight and lust. I saw it in his eyes—as soon as I said those words, his mind drifted toward what it would be like to sink his cock between my legs. I felt a tingle and knew I was dripping, that my nipples were hard, and all the little hairs on my skin stood on end, but I couldn’t let him know that I wanted to sink along his shaft and ride him, that I needed to take his cock between my lips and suck him hard, moaning the whole time.

  I needed it to feel alive again.

  God, he was right, the asshole, the monster.

  He released my hips.

  “I’m not giving you what you want that easily, baby girl.” He stepped back, looking at me with undisguised desire. “When I’m ready, you’ll come to me and beg for it. You’ll get down on your knees, your cunt dripping wet, pooling between your legs. You’ll touch yourself, so desperate and needy, and only when you’re moaning my name and begging for my cock will I finally sink myself deep inside and make you scream.”

  I sucked in a breath and turned my back, heart racing wildly.

  “You can’t do this forever,” I said, and knew I was wrong.

  “I can and I will.”

  I walked away then. I was dizzy with need—something I’d never felt before.

  Jarrod was a monster. He was the beast of Blackwoods College, one of the Four Horsemen, and he was going to devour me if I let him.

  12

  Cora

  I sat in front of the TV watching the episode of The Office about the “Fun Run
” for the thousandth time.

  Routine soothed me. It was my way of turning off the constant chattering inside my skull. Otherwise, my brain moved a thousand miles per second and I couldn’t do anything but twitch around my room bouncing off the walls. Watching reruns of the same TV show helped settle the stream of intrusive thoughts, at least enough to let me wind down after class.

  I kept thinking about that conversation with Jarrod. His hands left little dimples on my skin like it still remembered his touch. His lips were like fire, his body like heaven, and I was so afraid that I’d start to fill the aching gap in my chest with a need for him. I could feel it, hovering there at the edge of my mind, an obsession that was just as depraved and messed up as the fantasies that used to sustain me.

  But without Dr. Silver to daydream about, I needed something else.

  Jarrod was dangerous. I watched him cut the throat of a man he’d never met, all because I claimed to have been molested by him as a little girl. It was all true—I wouldn’t lie about something like that—but he still plunged the weapon into the flesh of that man’s neck based entirely on my word alone.

  I got so mad at him when he dared question my story—but god, he was so right to when the stakes were so high.

  I sucked in a deep breath and tried to steady myself. Thinking about Jarrod knocked something loose inside my chest, like just seeing his face in my mind’s eye was enough to get my knees shaking with need. I kept thinking about what he said to me, how filthy he was, how fucked up and delicious, and I wondered if he’d be just as incredible when he finally decided to take me.

  I knew he would be. That was the worst part.

  I turned at footsteps on the stairs. Sam came stampeding into the living room, slightly out of breath. Mom was at tennis and Dad was up in his office, and Sam looked wild-eyed and excited.

  He pointed at the TV. “You’ve got to put on the news.”

  “The news?” I laughed and shook my head. “What are you talking about?”

  “That chiropractor. I was about to play Madden when—” He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and switched the TV onto the cable. “Fuck it. Look at this.”

  I recognized the scene right away.

  It as Dr. Silver’s house from the bottom of his driveway. It looked like a nice, quiet winter evening, and the pretty brunette girl talked into her microphone with a clipped professionalism.

  “… releasing any details at this time. There is still an active crime scene in the woods, but Fox 17 received word that a single body was found, and it appears to be chiropractor Dannis Silver. There’s no word on what happened or how the deceased was discovered, but our sources suggest the police are looking into foul play. From Fox News 17, I’m Danica Smith.”

  The TV switched back to generic coverage about a local school board election, but I couldn’t move.

  They found him already.

  I thought I’d have at least a couple days to prepare. Today was a wash—I was still in shock and processing what happened.

  But clearly something happened, and now my timeline was all messed up.

  “Someone killed him,” Sam said quietly.

  “You don’t know that.” I stared at the TV, brain buzzing with an incredible screech as a thousand thoughts screamed past. What if they catch me? What’s going to happen to that dog? Will Jarrod be angry? And so on and so on, spiraling into a pit of uncertainty.

  “The police are investigating foul play.” Sam let out a shocked, angry laugh. It was sharp, harder than I was used to from him. Even in his depressions, Sam was a gentle guy. “Someone finally murdered the bastard.”

  I looked up at my brother and I had the sudden, vile urge to tell him the truth.

  He’d understand. Dr. Silver hurt him as much as he’d hurt me. Sam would be happy I was the one that made it happen.

  But Jarrod would never allow it, and he’d be right.

  As much as I loved Sam, my brother was too soft to carry this truth.

  I didn’t know if I was much better, but I had no choice. It happened, and I couldn’t turn back.

  “Do you still think about it?” The question came out soft and strangled.

  He grimaced and looked down at the floor. “Yeah, I do sometimes. Mostly I think about the way Mom and Dad reacted after you told them.”

  I closed my eyes. I could still see the look of disgust and surprise on my dad’s face. I could still hear my mom gently explain that sometimes doctors touched their patients in confusing ways, but that he was a medical professional, and it was okay.

  But it wasn’t okay. I insisted, told them he’d put his fingers inside of me, which was supposed to be wrong, but they told me I must be mistaken.

  The doctor would never do that.

  I looked up at Sam. “I think about it all the time, too.”

  “He’s gone now.” Sam laughed again. Still bitter and dark. I hated Dr. Silver all over again for making my sweet brother like this. “And honestly? I’m really fucking happy.”

  I laughed too. I couldn’t help myself. In some ways, I needed to hear him say that, even if he didn’t know that I was the one who went through with it, or at least was deeply involved.

  “Got what was coming to him.”

  Sam grinned at me and laughed harder. I laughed with him until we were both cracking up, rolling around on the couch, tears in our eyes. I grabbed at my guts, barely able to hold myself together, and it felt good, so damn good to laugh and laugh and laugh, hysterical and wild, a bone-deep release.

  “What’s so funny?” Dad stood in the kitchen, frowning at us.

  I looked over the back of the couch. “Dr. Silver was murdered.”

  Sam howled with laughter.

  Dad blinked and his jaw worked. “Are you joking? I can’t tell.”

  “Dead serious.” I grinned at Sam. “Get it? Dead serious?”

  “Oh my god, stop,” he said, rolling on the floor. “I’m gonna bust a gut. Holy shit.”

  “He’s dead as hell. Someone murdered the molesting fuck.” I grinned wildly at Dad. “Got what he deserved.”

  Dad stood there, looking at me like I was an entirely different person, before his hands clenched into fists.

  “You shouldn’t talk about the dead like that.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “After what he did to me—”

  “You were eight years old,” he exploded, throwing up his hands. “I thought we were done with this. You didn’t understand what was happening to you.”

  Sam’s laughter died down. He wiped the tears from his face and sat there looking at me, caught between smiling and a deep sorrow.

  I only shook my head. “No, Dad. You decided I didn’t understand, but I’m not wrong.”

  His face turned red then purple. He wanted to scream, but he was too uptight and controlled to do that.

  The back door opened. My mom came inside, whistling to herself. She wore her white and pink tennis clothes and had a sweatband around her forehead. She dropped her bag on the floor near the table then looked at my dad and looked at me.

  “What’s going on?” Mom asked. She brushed her light brown hair back and tucked the shoulder-length strands behind her ears.

  “Dannis Silver got murdered,” Sam said, snickering again.

  Mom’s mouth fell open. “What happened?”

  “We don’t know,” I said, barely controlling my fury. “But Sam and I were celebrating.”

  Mom looked confused. “Why would you celebrate?”

  Dad glared at her. “Cora brought up that conversation we had with her. Do you remember the one? When she was younger and confused.”

  Mom’s confusion worsened before her hands flew to her mouth. She looked at me, surprised. “You remember that?”

  “Of course I remember,” I said, staring at her like she was crazy. “I was eight, not an idiot.”

  “But we talked about it. We explained—”

  I cut her off with venom on my tongue. “You explained. You were wrong.�
�

  “That’s enough,” Dad said sharply. “I don’t want to hear about this again. You two, get upstairs and stop laughing about the poor man.”

  Mom stared between me and Dad with her customary quiet acquiescence. Even if she disagreed with him—which I really doubted—she wouldn’t say it out loud.

  No reason to make things worse. She didn’t want to start a fight.

  I stood and held a hand out for Sam. He took it, still convulsing slightly with mirthful aftershocks.

  “We’ll celebrate upstairs,” I said to him, forcing myself to smile despite the earth-shaking rage I felt. His expression softened when he saw how angry I felt.

  “It’s fine, we don’t have to.”

  “Come on.” I stomped to the stairs.

  “If I hear either of you celebrating this man’s death, we’ll have words.” Dad’s voice echoed after me as I headed to my room with Sam in tow.

  I pushed my door open and stormed inside. He lingered on the threshold. “You okay?”

  “After all this time, they still don’t believe me.” I whirled to face him. “What kind of people wouldn’t believe their own daughter?”

  “You know them. They’d do anything to avoid conflict.”

  “The guy’s dead. There can’t be any conflict.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I know that, but even still.”

  “It’s fucked up. You know that, right?”

  “There’s a reason I never told them.” His eyes met mine. “If I were you, I’d let it go.”

  “Can you?” I asked, trying not to let the tears that threatened to swamp me roll down my cheeks. Sam was in a bad place and he needed me to be strong for him.

  He didn’t answer right away. He stared toward the window, thinking, before shaking his head. “I’m trying.”

  “Trying isn’t the same thing. Now that he’s gone, can you move on?”

  “I don’t know. You know what’s fucked up? I’m afraid the world will never know how much of a sick bastard he was. He’s gone so they’ll all move on, but what he did will always be with me.”