The Dawn of Darkness: A Paranormal Romance Read online

  “You can go wherever you want. Just pretend we’re not here,” Rowan says, trying to soothe the situation.

  “So you want me to pretend like two strangers aren’t following me around?” she questions.

  “Exactly.” Rowan grins.

  “Like a stalker?”

  Her inquiry wipes the grin off Rowan’s face, and Gage cracks up laughing.

  “We just want to make sure you get home safely,” Rowan explains.

  “Two strange men want to find out where I live after I was just attacked in an alley where one of them pulled a gun on me and the other asked if the cannibal tried to eat me.” Amelia raises a questioning eyebrow with a do-you-see-the-problem expression.

  “She’s got a point.” The grin spread across Gage’s face can melt the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. “And I apologize for the-uh incident from earlier. Safety precaution. Comes with the job.”

  “So you’re cops?” she asks.

  “If I said yes, would that make you feel better?” Rowan queries.

  “I would feel better if I could kick someone in the balls. Maybe shove my thumb in an eye socket too,” she admits.

  Such violence. We will get along perfectly.

  “Every time she says it, my nuts—.” Rowan hits Gage in the shoulder, silently mouthing shut up.

  She stops abruptly. I turn my back to them and pretend to be interested in the carousel of postcards in front of a shop.

  “You’re good to work?” Gage asks with concern.

  They’ve stopped in front of a restaurant. Hiding behind the carousel, I notice the Stake N’ Bake polo shirt she’s wearing.

  “I don’t have a choice. It’s Friday and I depend on my tips,” her voice is slightly trembling. Surveying the Boulevard under the lamplight, she wraps her arms around herself, looking for danger.

  She’s a survivor. More aware of her surroundings.

  The brothers recognize the anxious expression on her face. They’ve seen it thousands of times on plenty of victims the supernatural world preys on.

  “Rowan can come by when you’re off to walk you home.” Gage offers his brother’s services without asking him. Rowan snaps his wide eyes to his brother and then Amelia. Her gaze is averted, but she doesn’t decline the offer.

  The dissipating fear rises the longer the silence grows between them. Her anxiety increases and falls like she’s contemplating the offer, unsure if she should take it.

  Rowan doesn’t wait for her to agree to the arrangement. “When do you get off?”

  “One in the morning,” she murmurs and expects him to blow her off because of the late hour.

  Good to know.

  “I’ll come by at 12:30. Where’s your phone?” Rowan asks and takes the phone from her. He programs his number in it. “Call me if you get off early.” The dimple in his left cheek deepens and I frown at her growing excitement.

  She hesitates, and I hope she’s polite enough to reject the offer. Inconveniencing others is something humans think about. Or a handout. Kindness almost always gets rejected.

  “I’ll see you later?” She nods awkwardly and gives them a wave through the glass doors when she peers over her shoulder and finds them still standing there.

  Gage grins and messes up Rowan’s hair in a teasing manner. “Who’s the best wingman in the world? I love it when a pretty girl needs a rescue.”

  “This doesn’t mean she’s interested in me.” Rowan scowls and tries to salvage his styled, dark brown hair.

  “Of course she’s interested, she gave you her phone.”

  “Only because you said I’d do it! And then she didn’t have a choice.”

  “Girls always have a choice. You’re just used to hearing the word no.” Gage chuckles, throwing his arm around his little brother.

  They stroll down the street and get lost in a hoard of people. I meander up to the Steak N’ Bake glass doors and inhale. Her scent is still strong and my throat burns for a drink of the sample I had earlier.

  She’s off-limits. But should she lose interest in the hunter…she could disappear without notice. The thought of stealing her away from Rowan gives me something to look forward to. My amused smirk changes to concern when I enter the restaurant.

  “Welcome to Steak N’ Bake. How many?” The hostess greets me with a dazzling smile. Her eyes carefully assess me and lust emanates from her. An empty saddle surrounded by hay to my right is set up as a photo prop for parents with kids.

  “Maybe you can help me. Someone dropped their keys outside, and I’m positive I saw her come in here.” I hold up my keys. The lie easily slips right off my tongue. “Where would she be?

  “Oh-um.” The hostess looks around. “She’s probably in the back. Her shift started. I can’t leave my post, but you can leave them with me, and I’ll give them to her.”

  Instead of declining her offer, I change the subject. “How’s the food here?”

  “Pretty good if you like steak and potatoes.”

  “Should I give it a shot since I’m already here?”

  “It never hurts to try something new.”

  “Lead the way.”

  She grabs a menu and takes off to the right, toward the tables. “Or you can sit at the bar.”

  Faux fence siding is plastered against the wall with murals of the countryside above it to make patrons feel like their dining on a homestead. The area she puts me in has Longhorn skulls, elaborate belt buckles, and antique farm tools. The mural depicts a rodeo with a cowboy riding a bucking bull.

  “The table in the corner is fine. Don’t forget to tell your friend about her keys.” I remind her. She places the menu on the table and turns to leave, but I’m right in front of her, reading her nametag. I lean forward to make the conversation intimate. “When do you get off tonight?”

  Blushing, Roderica leans against the table shyly. “Eleven, unless we get a huge rush, then I usually help close up.”

  “Maybe I should stick around.” My eyes trace her collarbone.

  She cocks her head seductively. “Maybe you should.”

  I take my seat and watch her saunter off to the entrance, swishing her hips. Two minutes later, a waiter tries to take my order and I explain to him I’m waiting for a certain waitress. He agrees to send her over after I give him a description.

  Amelia wanders around, taking orders for a while, probably hoping I’ll give the keys to the hostess and leave. The male waiter checks on me again, and when I say she hasn’t been by yet, there’s a grimace he tries to hide with a tight smile.

  I see her coming and hide behind the menu. My fangs slip out and contract when her scent reaches me. I ignore her presence until she finally says, “Excuse me.”

  Pretending to be startled, I peer over the menu and grin sheepishly. Holding up my keys, I exclaim, “You might need these later.”

  “I hate to be the one to tell you, but those aren’t mine,” she claims politely and clasps her hands. Each finger has a ring on it. She removed all the make-up from her face and appears younger. Her brown eyes are still red from crying, but she’s pretending to be brave. Anxiety is leaping off her.

  Her sixth sense to recognize danger is subpar. The demon within me wants to remind her we’ve already met—the pretty face she’s observing hid in the shadows her human eyes cannot penetrate.

  Disappointment surges underneath my puzzled expression. A defeated sigh emerges. “So I followed the wrong person and now someone out there is stranded.”

  She places a hand on my shoulder and then looks at it like someone else is controlling her movements. But she doesn’t remove it. “It’s the thought that counts?” she says, trying to console me.

  Don’t fight it. Let it happen. Vampires naturally attract humans. But the allure allows us to pull them into dark corners where they usually will not go with strangers. Its power wraps invisible tendrils around her, making her succumb to my every need. I just have to keep her close a little longer.

  Sliding my fingers across my
forehead to appear frazzled, I lean forward in mock disbelief. “I guess I should go see if anyone is out there searching for keys.”

  “Or you could eat,” she suggests, removing her hand from my shoulder and grabbing a notepad to take my order. There’s a glimmer of desire in her eyes. Women always love the hero. “I doubt you’ll find them now. They might not even know their keys are missing.”

  “I feel awful.”

  “When I feel bad, the dessert menu makes up for it.”

  A small, pitiful grin makes an appearance. “Nothing says winner like a man eating desert by himself,” I mutter sarcastically for only her to hear.

  “Trust me, anyone here would be glad to join you. Even the married customers,” she blurts out before she can stop herself.

  The lure vampires hold over humans is twisting her thoughts to benefit. Soon she won’t remember Rowan’s name and I’ll be free to finish what I started.

  I give her my best nervous chuckle. “You are very kind, even though I don’t think that’s remotely true.”

  “What’ll it be? I’m not letting you leave on an empty stomach feeling sorry for yourself.” She gives me a sweet smile and steps closer to gaze at the dessert menu with me. Desperation to keep me here is eating away at her uneasiness.

  When I don’t pick one after a few minutes, she points at the monster brownie option and brushes her arm against me. My stomach churns at the thought of sticking it in my mouth, so I focus on her wrist instead. “That looks good. Bring me that—uh—eh—,” I pretend to search for her nametag, “Amelia.”

  “Excellent choice—what should I call you besides the handsome, mysterious stranger in the corner?”

  “You can always call me the handsome, mysterious stranger in the corner.” My mouth tips up in a devilish grin. “But for future reference, you can call Gabriel.”

  She breaks eye contact first, turning around with a nervous giggle. By the end of the night, she’ll beg me to take her home. I stretch out my legs and let the allure do all the work. It takes five minutes for a hand to slide over my shoulder, but it’s not who I expect.

  Roderica settles in front of me at the table with a sensual quirk of her lips. Her mind is more malleable than Amelia’s, and she’s willing to fight for my attention. Every slight movement she makes draws my eyes to her chest.

  Lazily leaning over the table, my gaze travels along her neck until I meet her eyes. I’m very interested in keeping her with me. But not for the blood in her veins.

  Tension slowly wedges itself into every bone in my body. I glance back at the entrance where she should be. It came from the front. My gaze flickers to all the dark corners where shadows are ignored because safety lies inside the building.

  Protection only lies within the light.

  If I’m going to abandon my plan, I want to be absolutely sure the shadows have come out to play.

  Inhaling deeply, I try to catch another whiff of the lingering scent. A smell that doesn’t belong to her.

  An odor that belongs to something far worse than a hunter.

  Chapter 2

  Rowan

  G age swipes the phone out of my hand and stares at the screen. “What is so fascinating about your phone tonight?”

  I let him have it because I’ve been checking the time. Probably a little too much if he’s noticed—hoping Amelia might feel the need to text me.

  He gives it back to me. “You owe me a beer.”

  “For what?” I ask incredulously.

  “Getting Amelia’s number for you,” Gage emphasizes her name in a high-pitched voice. “I would also like to hear, Gage, what would I do without you? Girls are so complicated, if it wasn’t for you, I’d be lonely for the rest of my life.”

  “Are you done?” I shake my head.

  “Singing my own praises?” Gage’s brown eyes glint with mischief. “Never.”

  “Are you coming with me tonight?” I query.

  “What for?” Gage asks, confused. His face lights up in understanding and he teases, “Does whittle brother need his big, bad brother’s help?” He throws an arm over my shoulders and whispers, “Most girls only want one thing. But Amelia is special. The only thing she wants is to kick someone in the balls.” He cracks up laughing.

  Sometimes I really really hate my brother.

  He doesn’t understand how hard it is to pick up women when he’s around. Everyone turns their head when he walks past them. It’s not his fault. Being half Incubus isn’t something he asked for. And I can’t mention it because he hates that part of himself. If he could rip it out and send it back to hell, it’d be done.

  But since he can’t, he tries to make up for his demon side by saving one person at a time.

  “You’re in a good mood for letting a vampire escape,” I say, bringing his mood down.

  “We were having such a good time. And you just had to go there. Why?” Gage holds out his hands in an exaggerated, hurt gesture, feigning offense. “I hope she kicks you in the balls so you know how I feel right now.”

  “Can we move on from my balls? I feel like it’s an obsession you shouldn’t have,” I say mockingly.

  “What can I say?” Gage shrugs. “Someone has to look out for them. Or they’d never see any action.”

  “I’ll show you some action with my fist,” I threaten with no conviction, pushing Gage’s arm off my shoulders. Around the corner, a demolished heap of metal and wood make up a dangerous maze. It’s one of the few times I wonder about modern medicine and if I have my tetanus shot.

  “Help me find a way onto the roof,” Gage says, weaving through the jagged metal and splintered wood.

  “Get el Cucuy up there.”

  Gage scowls. “If we depend on him now, what will happen when he dies?”

  “Are you going to kill him? Because he won’t die easily.”

  Shadows dance in my periphery, slithering and warping around me—odd occurrences too blurry to make out if it’s my imagination. Automatically shifting my gaze, I already know it’s gone. If something was there at all.

  My world is full of creepy, silent wonders, and dark flashes of a world that’s not supposed to exist.

  “The only way you’re getting up there is if you break into the building and take the stairs up to the roof. Call el Cucuy. Let him do it,” I protest, watching him pace the entire alley, wasting time. “I’d really like to catch the bloodsucker before Amelia gets off work, so when I say, he can’t hurt you, it’s not a lie.”

  Gage gazes at the roof. “I almost had him, I should have jumped.” The frustration is laced through every word.

  “And you’d be dead or left to hang there. In which case, you’d still have to call el Cucuy,” I point out.

  “Stop calling him that. You need to call him the General in public. Or we’ll have another incident with an angry mother because we freaked out her kids. You ran off while I was scolded in front of everyone,” Gage says bitterly.

  I scoff. “You got her number afterward.”

  “Hot moms need love too.”

  “She had a wedding ring!”

  “She took the phone out of my hand. What was I supposed to do?”

  “It’s your phone!” I throw up my hands in defeat. It’s pointless arguing with him when women throw themselves at his feet.

  “What am I going to do about this undeniably handsome, extremely good-looking, proportional face?” Gage asks dramatically with his arms out, pleading with the night sky.

  “Put a bag over it.”

  He flicks me off. “General.”

  An outline of a dark figure appears next to him and shimmers into existence. The black clothes are see-through and blur like a mirage in the desert. The General solidifies next to Gage, and he kneels. “Master.” The word is spit with contempt and reverence and boredom.

  It’s not a secret the General hates being anchored to this world through Gage. A shadow hitman usually works for the elite demons. Unless the master is murdered—in this case by a hunter—t
hen the underworld’s rarest and deadliest pet transfers to the killer.

  El Cucuy is surprisingly hateful to all things non-demon.

  “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” Gage asks, annoyed. “And the kneeling needs to stop.”

  “It is hard to ignore an old tradition.” The General stands up, his head still bowed. Different shades of black clothing cover him from head to toe. Down to the gloves on his hands. An odd way to dress in the unbearable heat, but I’m not sure it affects him. His face isn’t covered, but it’s hidden deep inside the drooping hood.

  “If you make it a command, you’ll make it easier on him,” I insist.

  “The human is correct,” the General agrees.

  Gage frowns. “I hate doing that. It makes me feel like a slave owner.”

  “He probably does it to annoy you,” I point out.

  “The human is correct,” the General reiterates.

  “Seriously?” Gage inquires. “I’m the nicest master ever. People would kill to call me master. I have a few ladies I can call right now…”

  Gage’s charming jokes are wasted on the General. He had little to do with humans before he was thrust on Gage. Understanding sarcasm and emotions are at the bottom of his to-do list…if he has one.

  “You know he doesn’t understand you’re joking, right?” I remind Gage.

  “The human is correct,” the General repeats.

  “So you be his master,” Gage says resigned.

  “He does not possess the ability to be a master,” the General restates the same information we’ve heard over a hundred times—only this time he doesn’t say it with disdain.

  El Cucuy can only be controlled by a demon. And to his dismay—half demon. According to the underworld, humans are pathetic little creatures born to serve. I’ve never understood his hatred toward me because technically he was born to serve too. I tried explaining it to him, but he disappeared in the middle of my lecture.

  “There’s a vamp I need you to find,” Gage commands.

  The General perks up—or lifts his head to pay attention. “Scent?”

  “Up on the roof.” Gage looks up, and the General is already there, crouching at the edge of the building.