Awaken: Book 1 of the Dark Paradise Trilogy Read online

  Awaken

  Book 1 of The Dark Paradise Trilogy

  Isadora Brown

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Catalyst: Book 2 of The Dark Paradise Trilogy

  Did You Like Awaken?

  Newsletter Information

  Also by Isadora Brown

  Also by Isadora Brown

  Also by Isadora Brown

  Also by Isadora Brown

  Also by Isadora Brown

  Prologue

  He knew the moment she arrived in Onyx. She was special. She was different. She was the Key.

  Not that she knew it.

  In fact, she didn’t know anything. Her parents brought her here because Onyx had some of the best doctors in the country. For the past year she had been in a coma. In fact, she’d be turning seventeen in a manner of minutes; at least, according to the pocket watch he borrowed from the Ferry.

  He slipped the watch into the pocket of his brown slacks and turned his attention back to her. As clichéd as it sounded, he hadn’t seen anyone more angelic in his entire life, and he’d been around for a long time.

  His lips curled into a smirk. It was time.

  He was going to wake her up.

  Strolling over to her, his eyes took in her sleeping form. It was nearly midnight and the full moon’s soft glow seeped through the window and cast an ethereal aura around her. In all honesty, he hadn’t known she’d be this beautiful. It would make his job much easier.

  He had thirty seconds.

  His eyes sculpted her face: the hollow, high cheekbones, the short bridge of her upturned nose, the pale, almost sickly face, her pointed chin, and the blonde waves that invaded her forehead and tumbled past her shoulders to the middle of her chest. The silky strands glowed, as though someone was washing and conditioning her hair for her, even though hair upkeep wasn’t important for someone in her state.

  Ten seconds.

  He couldn’t see the color of her eyes, her height, or the shape of her body, but he could wait. He had been waiting for a long time; a few more days wasn’t going to make a difference.

  Five seconds.

  Her lips were full. Whoever was washing her hair was putting lip balm on her lips. They were shaped like a bow, the angles more rounded than sharp. It fit her.

  Three …

  He bent his head, licking his lips in preparation.

  Two …

  His hair fell into his face, but he paid it no mind before pressing his lips to hers.

  All it takes is a kiss, as they say.

  Though he knew it was dangerous if she caught him standing there, he stayed until her eyes snapped open so he could see the color, a stormy grey. It was another unexpected thing about her. They were feisty, completely unlike the fragile features that composed the symmetry of her face. It was nice to be surprised again.

  Before she could make him out, decipher the reality of his presence, he was gone. His job was done. Now all he had to do was wait for the pieces to fall into place.

  1

  To put it mildly, Andie was pissed.

  Her strawberry blonde hair decided to go frizzy the one day she needed to look professional for an interview, and it was especially noticeable since she decided to cut it to her chin over the summer. As she was getting her usual hot chocolate with extra whipped cream from Starbucks, some jerk completely spilled his hot black coffee all over her only white collared blouse. By the time she reached Phillip Enterprises for her interview, she already knew she wasn’t going to get the internship due to her frazzled appearance, but she had to suffer through it thanks to her high school business class requirements. She needed some sort of internship by the end of the week or else she’d fail the class. She was already stressed out, due to her mother’s constant reminders of how important it was that she got this internship, how the money from Andie’s work at the Spirit Museum and Keirah’s job at the bank just wasn’t cutting it anymore, and that taking care of family was more important than getting a good education. Well, her mother would certainly be disappointed. No doubt she’d remind her how desperately they were struggling ever since their father left and how she was depending on Andie to help out. “Couldn’t you just do a little more?” Her mother would plead. “It will go such a long way.”

  The interviewer, by the way, was not Jack Phillip like she was told it would be, but some old guy. Apparently Phillip couldn’t be bothered to interview a high school junior clamoring for the lone internship his company offered, even though he was only a few years older than she was. He began the interview with the dumbest question she had ever heard: “Did you know you have a stain on your shirt?”

  The pressure she felt pooled over. “Yes, I did. I wanted to stand out from my peers by arriving to a very important interview with a big-ass stain on my very nice, very expensive shirt.”

  Because of that particular retort, security had to be called because what’s a party without rent-a-cops? In a commendable fifteen seconds, Andie found herself walking the streets of Onyx, running her shaky fingers through her brow-length bangs. This was a new feeling for her, being absolutely furious. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. Her fingers itched to call Carey, but she was heading over to Carey’s house now. And anyway, it wasn’t likely she could even formulate words at the moment. Her head was starting to pound and as a result she wasn’t up to par with her well-honed pedestrian dodging skills. She ran into someone, someone built, because instead of knocking him over, she fell down rather ungracefully on her backside.

  “This is just typical,” she hissed through gritted teeth. Before she knew it, someone grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  She cast her eyes up, ready to tell the person to watch where he was going, when she came in contact with a pair of jade-green eyes. He was tall, probably six feet, and dressed casually—something uncharacteristic for him since he was rarely seen in anything but one of those designer suits he owned. His thick, chestnut brown hair was not slicked back from his face the way he normally wore it, but fell loosely, framing his long face. His thin lips, notorious for frowning and making out with his flavor of the week, were pursed, and he looked at her with a quizzical brow, probably due to the furious look she was giving him.

  “Of course,” she muttered. “Who do I happen to run into on this already horrible day? You.”

  They were standing on the bustling sidewalk, the passersby none the wiser that there was a celebrity in their mist. Andie could tell he was getting uncomfortable, but she didn’t care.

  “I’ve had the worst day because of you,” she snapped, p
oking him in the chest. He was wearing a royal blue V-neck sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The material was soft under her fingertip. “I went to your building to be interviewed for your internship and obviously didn’t get the job because the interviewer—who wasn’t you by the way, like I was led to believe—asked the stupidest question and ugh!” She threw her arms up in frustration.

  Phillip blinked once, twice, and cordially said in his usual low, soft spoken voice, “Do you think it might have to do with your attitude? Because, certainly, my staff—who I do train personally, though it isn’t any of your business—would never hire someone as rude, brash, and obnoxious as you. And they certainly don’t need me to tell them otherwise. You, on the other hand, would need more supervision than I could afford to hire. Want some advice? Watch your mouth.”

  Her mouth dropped open as fast as if he had reached over and slapped her across the face. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was PMSing. Maybe she was having some sort of breakdown because of all the pressure and expectations she just failed to meet. She was being completely unprofessional, but in the heat of the moment, it didn’t matter. His words had no time to sink in. Before she realized what she was doing, she grabbed her water bottle from her oversized bag, unscrewed the cap, and dumped it on him. Being only five foot six, Andie couldn’t pour it over him like she wanted to, but at least she got him wet. His demeanor darkened and his jade green eyes took on an edge.

  Phillip’s sudden change in demeanor didn’t intimidate the seventeen-year-old. “Don’t act like you know me,” she said. “Do you think I’m naturally a bitch?”

  Before she could follow up, he answered with one firm nod. “Yes.”

  Once again, her mouth dropped open, and before she could finish, he began to walk away. She would be damned if she let him get away with the last word, so she quickly positioned herself directly in front of him, preventing him from walking any further. “Maybe you’re right and my attitude could use some fine-tuning,” she admitted. “It’s no excuse for my behavior, but I’ve had the worst day. And look at you, walking the streets without a care in the world. Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Phillip, but we weren’t all born into wealth and privilege; we all can’t walk the streets when we want to get away from our problems. We have to work for money and good grades, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? Your life was pretty much made for you before you were born.” Her pale eyes hardened into emeralds. “Instead of doing any good, you walk around like you’re better than us. Let me tell you something: just because you have more money than everyone else doesn’t make you a better person, it just makes you an asshole.” With that, she ran her fingers through her frizzy tresses once more before sidestepping him and disappearing in the crowd.

  It was a blur to Carey’s home—a townhouse tucked in Onyx Garden, a gated community—and she had to press in the key code three times before her fingers got the numbers correct. From there, it was a two minute walk to the blue and white classic American-style home. Andie walked up to the door and all but pounded on it.

  “Geesh, Andie,” Carey said as she opened the door. “What’s your—” She stopped midsentence, her quick brown eyes taking in her friend’s appearance. “You look like shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wanna talk about it over chocolate chip cookies?” Carey led Andie through the foyer to the marble-topped kitchen. “My mom made a fresh batch before she had to scurry off to confirm a really important job tomorrow. You know, the one we’re waitressing for?” She winked as she took a seat on the barstool.

  Andie headed for the cabinet, preparing for a glass of milk. She took a seat across from Carey and remained silent while she took a bite of the still-warm cookie. It melted on her tongue. She had no idea how, but homemade chocolate chip cookies always made her problems disappear. Now she could talk.

  “Oh my God,” Carey said, reaching up to touch the back of her neck. Her pixie-cut, dark blonde hair and soft facial features made her look like a fairy and her dimples just added to the allure, giving mischievousness to her adorable façade. “You did what?”

  “I know, I know,” Andie said, wincing like a puppy being scolded. “I shouldn’t have gone off on him. It just happened. Look, in all likelihood, I’ll never see the guy again. I’m planning to chalk the whole incident up to PMS, learn to not take my problems out on rich douchebags, and forget about the whole thing, okay? I just hope the guy hasn’t blacklisted me. Oh my gosh, do you think he can fire me from the Spirit Museum? I mean, he technically doesn’t own it, but he donates so much that I bet if he called them—”

  “Dude, Andie, calm down,” Carey said, grabbing Andie’s wrist to emphasize her point. “You’ll be fine. It’ll all work out.”

  Andie’s eyes narrowed on Carey’s sucked-in cheeks. Carey only sucked in her cheeks when she wasn’t telling Andie something, something important. “What, Carey?” she asked. “What did you do?”

  “Okay, the thing is when you hear what happens next, you’ll be slapping your knees due to how funny life is,” she explained, her voice getting breathier the faster she spoke. “You know the waitressing job tomorrow night? The catering job my mom is confirming right now that you already agreed to waitress with me? Well, that job is at Phillip’s party tomorrow night.”

  Andie’s mouth dropped open. “That’s just great,” she muttered. “Not that I don’t appreciate the job, Care, because I do. I definitely need the money, but I’m pretty sure once he sees my face, he’ll kick me out of his house for sure.” She paused, sighing, and with in a nicer tone, asked, “There’s no way I can get out of this?”

  Carey pressed her lips together and looked at the smooth surface of the marble countertop. That was a no.

  “Fine.” Andie felt her stomach sink into a pool on the black and white tile floor. “What time tomorrow night?”

  2

  Keirah glanced at the clock on her desk. It was just after one o’clock on a Thursday afternoon, which meant Dr. Hawkins wouldn’t be back for another half hour even though lunch technically ended at one, the time Keirah came in. It was also the time Andie would be at her interview with Jack Phillip. To be completely honest, it was little embarrassing that her younger sister was in her business class—a class that was supposed to be restricted to seniors. For whatever reason, everyone liked Andie, so she managed to talk the school counselor, Mrs. Kate, into letting her take the class early. This meant Keirah had to deal with Andie and her overabundant ambition every Friday when the class met up to turn in their weekly progress reports and discuss the business environment.

  Keirah had never been popular before this—she was artistic rather than social—but she was tolerated because she was quiet and demurely pretty. Now, she was all but excommunicated from the senior class, not only due to Andie’s presence in a senior-only class, but because Andie had landed a coveted interview at Phillip Enterprises. Keirah loved her little sister, but it was times like this that made her wish Andie wasn’t so … perfect.

  She tilted her head down, her fingers fiddling her with bangs while her freehand began to doodle the Onyx skyline on a scrap piece of paper. She was so immersed in her task that she didn’t hear the door open, didn’t hear three pairs of feet walk in—one pair with clinking chains attached to his ankles—until someone cleared their throat directly above her.

  Her brown eyes locked with a warm albeit tired pair of blue eyes. She recognized him instantly. He gave her a soft smile. “Hello,” he said. “I’m Commissioner Jarrett. I have an appointment with Dr. Hawkins.”

  Keirah furrowed her brow. “Are you sure?” Dr. Hawkins reminded Keirah at least three times every week not to schedule any appointments until 1:30. Keirah might have been new, but she had been interning here for the past three weeks and was competent enough to understand what no appointments meant. Maybe this was all Becky’s doing, the other intern more interested in nail polish and Facebook status updates than getting good grades in class. However, when she checked the comput
er, there was no appointment listed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at the commissioner. “I don’t have an appointment scheduled. Would you like me to call her?”

  “There wouldn’t be record of the appointment,” he told her, his voice gentle. “It’s last minute. When do you think she’ll be back?”

  “1:30.”

  Commissioner Jarrett turned to the uniformed officer, their voices hushed murmurs. All Keirah heard was “press conference” and “watch the prisoner,” but that was probably because her eyes locked onto said prisoner. Keirah was normally careful to avoid any contact with the clients; all serious criminal offenders who had problems came to see Dr. Hawkins. She was the best in the field, internationally acclaimed. Her clients’ recidivism rates were on the decline, a feat unto itself. It was one of the reasons Keirah wanted to intern with her. She was a world-renowned criminal psychologist and Keirah wanted to follow in her footsteps. However, her interactions with criminals were minimal at best. While she had turned eighteen over the summer, she was still in high school which meant she had to be protected. Besides observing them walking to and from the room, Keirah never saw them. She was forbidden to talk to them, and while they leered down at her, they never addressed her in any way.

  But this was different. He was different. No one knew his real name or where he came from. No one knew why the right side of his face was so hideously burned. It looked as though someone pressed a heated iron on his skin and held it there until his face sizzled, leaving him permanently disfigured. Scariest of all, no one knew why he did what he did. He didn’t target a specific demographic, he had no known motive, he didn’t care about money or love. As far as the public knew, he couldn’t actually feel anything. It was probably why he would be seeing Dr. Hawkins. The Onyx media dubbed him Noir. He was like a villain from a black and white movie, especially with his chosen attire. It was hard to believe he was real.