Awaken The Dark Paradise Chronicles 1 Read online

  His jade green eyes sparkled at her before he finally departed, leaving her stomach to a tizzy and creating goosebumps on her forearms. She couldn’t tell if it was nerves at starting a new job or something else entirely.

  8

  Keirah

  I still can’t believe you got the internship,” Keirah said over breakfast Monday morning.

  “You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Andie said after a rather big bite of Reese’s Puff Cereal. Her pale green eyes glanced around the kitchen where the dining table was placed, as though to make sure their mother was still in her room. “You know we need the money.”

  “I’m not complaining.” Keirah abruptly stood up and grabbed her plate, crumbs of cinnamon toast scattered on its surface. And then, to herself, “You just get everything handed to you on a silver platter is all.”

  Keirah tried not to get bitter when it came to Andie, but there were moments—like this one—when she just couldn’t help it. To her, it seemed like Andie got anything she wanted without really working for it.

  By the time she reached Dr. Hawkins’ office, all thoughts of Andie vanished. Her heart began to pound, excitement coursing through her and a twinge of nervousness causing her heart to jump every few seconds. When one o’clock rolled around, she headed to the back room, nodding once at Officer Hiro before letting herself in.

  Noir was sitting in the same position before. As she took her seat, she noticed that he was twitching in a subtle but deliberate way, like he was trying to keep himself awake... a sign that he really was human, not some demon whose sole purpose on earth was to cause destruction, chaos, and heartbreak like the media portrayed him. She almost felt sorry for him, but immediately suppressed the thought. How could she feel pity for a merciless madman?

  “So we gonna sit here in silence, princess?” Noir asked in his silky tone, his head snapping up so he was gazing at Keirah. “’Cause, uh … if we are, I should probably go now. I don’t want to, hm … waste my time or anything like that.”

  Dr. Hawkins was already writing.

  “Because I’m sure you have people expecting you in your cell,” Keirah said before she could stop herself. She held her breath, waiting for Hawkins to reprimand her for how unprofessional she was being, but besides a grin from the man in front of her, her statement elicited no response.

  “Actually, my dear, I ammm-ah,” he replied, raising his brow so his scar twitched. It was then that Keirah noticed his arms. Every time the villain said something, his arms would move like he would be gesturing had his wrists not been shackled together. His eyes twitched shut and then reopened, shifting sideways before looking back into hers once again, a delightful smile on his face. “Would you like to play a game, princess?”

  Keirah’s brow rose and she glanced over at Hawkins, hoping for some guidance. However, the doctor continued to all but ignore her, leaving the decision completely up to her. Should she dare to play a game with him? Keirah rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and then followed suit with her cheek in her palm. Maybe she might figure out something useful if she indulged him.

  “What game would we play?” she asked.

  His smile widened at her decision to humor him, and his tongue slipped out of his mouth, slithering over the cracked skin of his lips before snapping back into his mouth. “Well-ah,” he began, his eyes twitching once again. “It’s much like the game, uh, truth or dare but since I can’t do anything, hum … fun in these here cuffs-” he reached his arms up to prove his point - “it will just be truth.” He blinked and smacked his lips together, curling them into a smirk as he waited for her answer.

  Keirah thought for a moment. This would be an excellent way to get information out of him, but she would be expected to provide information about herself in return. If worst came to worst, she reasoned, she could lie.

  His smirk deepened. “And no lies,” he said. “If you lie I get to ask a very, hum … personal question.” His tone darkened substantially. “Very pers-ah-nal.” He twitched his brow, this time on purpose, indicating that though this was a game, he was serious about the rules.

  “Okay.” She nodded her head.

  “Good,” Noir drawled, his smirk reappearing on his face. He cleared his throat and sat up straight before saying, “Tell me, ah, your full name.”

  “Keirah Elen Shepherd,” she stated, crossing her legs. She quirked a brow. “And yours?”

  “Ah, are ya, are ya trying to trick me, dearie?” he asked, letting out a giggle. His shoulders jumped in amusement. “I am known only as Noir. I have no other aliases.” His fingers flexed as he explained himself, trying to follow along with his words but failing because they were trapped. “Just Noir. Just Noir.” His eyes blinked and he regarded her with a serious expression.

  “Fine,” she relented.

  He grinned, baring his yellow teeth. Keirah wondered if it had been a conscious decision to stop brushing his teeth or if he simply forgot to do it. She tucked the thought away, hoping to remember it when they got past basic questions.

  “When is your birthday?” he asked.

  “February 28th,” she replied. “And yours?”

  “January 6th.”

  The next question took more time for him to come up with than Keirah anticipated. Her heart began to beat in time to the ticking of the wall clock as she gently gnawed her bottom lip.

  “What, my dear, is your fa-vor-it color, hmm?” His lips pressed together as the corners of his chops pulled up.

  Keirah smiled at the question. “Green,” she murmured. “Green is my favorite color.”

  “Ah,” Noir said, sitting up straighter. “I commend you on your choice, princess.” He leaned forward at a forty-five degree angle and his eyelids lowered so his eyes were nearly slits. “Ya see,” he said, as though this was a most fascinating subject to him, “my favorite color is red, as I’m sure you remember.” He let out a quick laugh before regarding her seriously once again. “See, red and green almost belong together, yanno what I mean? They go together. Like Christmas! Green and red. Red and green. A match made in Hell, if, hum … they’ll have you.” His eyes twitched again, and without realizing it, Keirah swallowed. Noir leaned back against the couch, regarding her through his hooded eyes. “So I guess this means we were made for each other.”

  “So you think that because my favorite color happens to go with your favorite color, it means we’re meant to be together?” she asked him doubtfully, furrowing her brow as she spoke.

  Noir regarded her almost lazily. “Is that your question?” he asked her, his tone matching his features.

  Keirah stopped herself from immediately replying. Was that her question? Biting the inside of her bottom lip, she nodded. “Yes,” she told him. “It is.”

  “Well then,” he began, shifting his shoulders and inhaling sharply. “Red and green don’t always go together.” This only confused Keirah but he didn’t seem to care. “See, there can be awful combinations of the two. Pale red and lime green? Not gonna work. However,” he drawled, his hazel eyes sparkling, “when the perfect combination is brought together in a hum … intimate embrace, well … ya can’t argue with that, can ya?” He pushed his brow up, emphasizing his question.

  “Is that your question?” she retorted. This caused Noir to toss his head back and let out a bark of laughter. She doubted that she would ever get used to it, no matter how many days she spent with him.

  “Of course not, pet,” he told her, shaking his head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I already know the answer to the question. Why would I ask you a question I already know the answer to? Silly girl!” He shook his head condescendingly, but she wasn’t offended. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, looking at him expectantly, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Oh, my turn, right?” he asked after a long moment of silence passed between the two. She clenched her jaw at his rhetorical question, causing him to laugh once again. “Oh all right, ya spoil sport,” he chided. “Did you
ever hear how virtuous the mistress patience was?” Another glare from her caused him to burst out into more giggles. “Okay, okay. My question … hmm …” He seemed to be thinking long and hard for a moment before finally saying, “Do you have, uh, hmmm … how should I phrase this? Do you have a significant otherrr?”

  “A what?” Keirah asked sharply, her eyes widening and her posture tensing.

  Her reaction caused Noir to laugh once again. Keirah watched as he did so. He was dramatic: he would toss his head back, drop his mouth open, and just laugh. His shoulders jumped and his chest pulsed. It would have been a fine attribute had it been given to any other man. On him, it just looked maniacal.

  “Hoh, I’m sorry dear, do I, uh, do I have to rephrase the question?” Noir asked. He arched a brow, tilting his head to the side as his eyes twitched shut. Upon opening them, he smacked his lips and leaned toward her. “Do you have a boyfriend, a fiancé, a husband?” His eyes lost all trace of amusement as he barked out the second syllable of husband. “Someone you might love, care for … someone you might get intimate with?” His brow snapped up, wrinkles creasing against his forehead as he regarded her with a condescending smile.

  “No,” she replied honestly, shaking her head. “I don’t have a significant other.”

  “Ya, uh, better not be pulling a fast one on me, princess,” Noir warned in his usual amused way. “’Cause if you are, I’m going to have to kill him.”

  Keirah knew even without looking at him, he was telling the truth. It wasn’t as if she wore a sign around her neck that said, Don’t Date Me, but she was focused on graduating with good grades in order to maintain her GPA, snag a scholarship, and head on over to her first choice school, the University of Onyx. However, as focused as she was, she wouldn’t mind having someone to love.

  “Watcha thinkin’ about, dear?” Noir asked, leaning back against the couch.

  Keirah looked at him and noticed that smirk, the one that said he knew exactly what she had been thinking but wanted her to humor him.

  “What I’m going to ask you,” she snapped.

  Another cackle came from the prisoner. “Oh-hoh!” he exclaimed. “You know what, princess? I like you. You’re not really that afraid of me. Well, hum … you probably are and just mask it, of course. But, uh, I like that. When I escape, I’m going to find you and hum … take you … Well, I’ll take you with me.” He spoke like he was talking about the weather rather than escaping from a super-max mental ward. She swallowed.

  “Have you ever fallen in love before?” she wondered aloud. She was surprised she actually vocalized her musing, but it was something she had always wanted to know. Was he capable of feeling?

  Instead of snapping at her or laughing wildly, he regarded her with a cool look and asked, “What is your definition of love, sweets?”

  Keirah paused. It was a good question, and she thought long and hard before answering. “Being completely enraptured with someone; you’re consumed with them day and night, even if they aren’t there. You can hear their voice in your head when they haven’t spoken. You feel good just knowing they’re alive because in some way or another, you know they complete you.”

  “Ah,” Noir said, an odd smile on his face. “You mean obsessed. I have always wondered, hm … where do you draw the line concerning love and, uh, obsession? What if it equals the very same?” His brow perked as his voice traveled up. “Because-ah, if they do equal one and the same, then yes, I have been in love.” He ran his tongue over his chapped lips before answering her question. “I love stabbing my henchmen with knitting needles for no reason at all. Because I can. I love destroying houses and buildings by way of explosion. I la-ove the Black Wing. And I am growing increasingly addicted to you, my pet.”

  Keirah knew she should be afraid of what he just confessed to her. If anyone else had been in her position, they probably would be. But the way his voice dripped with velvet, the way he looked at her with those dark eyes, caused something to tremor through her veins.

  “My turn,” he said, flashing his yellow chops. “Tell me, princess, and tell me true: what do you feel are, hum … my finer attributes?”

  This caused Keirah to straighten. She was going to have to point out his attractive features? Well, it’s obviously not going to be very hard since you’re oddly attracted to him, a voice taunted from the back of her mind. She immediately hushed it. This was inappropriate. It had to be. This was going to take thought and precision. He couldn’t know she was attracted to him, yet he had to believe that she was being honest.

  “Well,” she said after a long moment. “You’re tall.” She was surprised he didn’t offer her some smart-aleck comment, but merely looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “And … you have broad shoulders.”

  “I ah, I see we are favorable toward the alpha male features,” Noir said, a knowing smile on his face.

  “Your scar,” she continued before she could stop herself. His eyes twitched at the mention of it, but she knew she had his full attention. “Your scars make you look masculine, dangerous. They give your face a story.”

  What scared Keirah the most was that everything she said was true.

  9

  Reese

  After Reese changed for soccer in the locker room, she headed down to the field, water bottle in hand and ball at her feet. Since the season hadn’t officially started, there was no need for her to put on shin guards and tube socks, but there would be lots of running and light drills so her hair was gathered up in a high ponytail and a pair of her old cleats was on her feet.

  Before the accident, Reese played on the varsity team of her old high school as a midfielder. It was the hardest position on the team, except for possibly the goalie, due to the amount of running that was required. It meant she played both offense and defense, so she not only had to be fast, she also had to be strong. Reese knew she would have to work her ass off in order to get the position here, especially at varsity level. She didn’t care, though. She just wanted to play soccer again.

  When she reached the field, she noticed Gabe standing with a group of guys all dressed in gear that suggested they, too, would be running and doing drills with the team. He towered over everyone else, which made Reese feel even smaller than she already was. Somehow, as though he knew he was being watched, he locked his steely blue eyes with hers. Suppressing a groan, Reese forced herself to maintain eye contact and remain exactly where she was, even when his lips curled into a smirk and he proceeded to saunter over to her. He was definitely the best-looking person on the field—the best-looking person she had ever seen—but there was something off about him, something that made the hairs on her body stand erect and her stomach churn.

  “I didn’t know you played soccer,” he said in his low voice.

  Reese swallowed, placing the tip of her cleat on the top of the soccer ball. “You don’t know a lot about me,” she pointed out.

  “I’d like to change that.” He cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll pick you up at seven tonight.”

  Reese furrowed her brow. “Excuse me?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. “I didn’t agree to anything, especially since you never asked my permission to take me out.”

  “Permission?” He had the gall to look confused. “Permission for what, exactly?”

  “Who do you think you are?” she asked, wrinkling her brow and taking a step toward him, soccer ball temporarily forgotten. She had to crane her head back in order to maintain eye contact, but she barely noticed. “Just because you think you’re God’s gift doesn’t mean you don’t have to ask me out on a date. You think I’m just going to fall over myself because you showed some kind of interest in me, and rearrange my life because you’ve told me we’re going out? I don’t think so. I met plenty of guys like you back in Beverly Hills. You’re all the same. And you know what? I’m not interested.”

  A crowd had gathered, and after Reese finished her rant, a collective gasp could be heard. The girls started t
o whisper among themselves while the guys started laughing or letting out strings of juvenile ooohs. Gabe’s eyes flashed. For a moment, Reese was actually frightened of him and what he might do to her for humiliating him in front of his friends and followers, but a whistle was blown and the crowd started to disperse. Gabe was the last person to leave the group, but only after he stared her into a paralysis. It was only when he turned and headed to the opposite field with the other guys that Reese finally able to move again.

  The workout wasn’t as bad as Reese initially thought it would be, but after the first lap of jogging around the field, she knew she was out of shape and would have to push herself harder if she wanted to not only make the team, but get playing time as well. Besides the two laps, they had to run a third, dribbling their soccer ball. Reese tried to look in front of her as she dribbled, something she had been able to do before. However, she found herself looking down more than usual. The drills reinstated a little bit of her confidence despite that; at least passing and shooting were like riding a bike. She still had that look-to-the-left-shoot-to-the-right powerhouse kick that always made it into the back of the net.

  By the time the girls were dismissed for the day, Reese was tired and sore, but eager to come back tomorrow and do it all over again. She loved the sport as much as she loved her plaid skirts and the color pink, and she was determined to get back into the swing of things and be better than she had been.

  After a quick but thorough shower, Reese headed over to her designated locker where her clothes were waiting for her. As she pulled on her knee-length tights, a cough caused her to pause. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a girl she recognized as one of the two goalies. She was a senior, with straight, shoulder-length blonde hair, a round face, and big, brown eyes. She was wearing an orange cardigan and a matching spaghetti strapped tank top with boot-cut low rise jeans and a pair of old sneakers. Her hair was still damp from the shower, but was pulled back from her face with barrettes decorated with bright flowers. If Reese had to describe the girl’s fashion sense, it would be practical but feminine. And cute. Definitely cute.