DarkInnocence Read online

  Dark Innocence

  Madeline Pryce

  Hannah Grey will do anything to escape the tortured memories haunting her. Every breath brings back the pain, the fear and the unbearable knowledge that she’ll never be the once-perfect girl everyone thought her to be. When the self-destructive fog of drugs, alcohol and meaningless sex starts to clear, Dante, a lion shifter sexier than sin itself, emerges through the darkness ready to rescue her for the second time in so many weeks.

  In the safety of Dante’s embrace, Hannah allows herself to become the woman she’s always wanted to be—smart, sexy, capable and empowered. His every touch electrifies. His hot, hungry kisses set her senses ablaze. As Dante masters her body, Hannah finally finds the strength to master her fears.

  Perfection shatters as threats from a mysterious vampire escalate from anonymous phone calls to violent encounters. When Hannah’s enemies unite, placing both her and Dante in mortal peril, she’s going to need her newfound strength to face the coming darkness and save the man she loves.

  A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Dark Innocence

  Madeline Pryce

  Chapter One

  The sweaty man—whose name I didn’t bother asking—convulsed on top of me as if he were having some kind of seizure. Self-disgust numbed the tortured memories I struggled to haze with self-medication. When the pills hadn’t made me forget the pain I so desperately tried to run from, I’d picked some random frat-boy. Drunk, high and on the verge of unconsciousness, I gazed dully at the off-white stucco ceiling and waited for him to finish.

  Thud. Thud. Thud. The headboard knocked the wall in time with his thrusting. The noise drowned out the vibrating music from the kegger downstairs. I wished I could hear the lyrics, even if the music was crap. I needed something to focus on other than the wall banging.

  Cursed with an eidetic memory, every sound, smell, sight, taste and touch worked in tandem to burn a scene into my mind I would never forget. At this very second, I really wished I could repress how far I’d let myself fall in order to pull myself free from the asylum that haunted my every breath.

  “God, Hannah, your pussy is grade A.” This was grunted, panted and groaned between words.

  His hot, sticky breath covered my ear in a layer of moisture, and induced vomit. Or maybe the impending puke was my body’s way of purging the toxins. Nope. It was the musky scent of sex—the slapping of his pelvis hitting the backs of my thighs. My skin chilled. The sound transported me to the abandoned hospital, made me think of bloodstained feet hitting the dirty, torn-up floor with every frantic step. The mildewed scent from then mixed with the sweet, lingering aroma of marijuana now and my head spun.

  The staccato beat of the bed drilling the wall sped up and anchored me to the present. Even though I hated it here, I was grateful for the brief respite. He grabbed my thigh, shoved it higher and thrust roughly against me. No matter how fast or how hard the driving force of this guy’s cock pounding into me, I felt nothing. It was a sensation I was aware of, but didn’t experience through my full-body numbness. There was zero arousal or sexual response.

  What kind of pills had I swallowed earlier?

  The frat-boy shuddered. “I could fuck you all night.”

  I seriously hoped he wasn’t serious. My high was quickly wearing off and the disgust, the only thing that gave me escape, was fading. Through the drug-induced fog memories were sharpening into a knife.

  Darkness closed around me and the tiny peaks and valleys on the ceiling vanished. Cold snaked up my spine and froze my skin. Agony sliced through me, one slow cut at a time—shallow, just sliding over the surface, before digging deeper. The blade moved through dermis then epidermis to muscle, through tendon to bone. Each layer separated, opened me to the darkness, the evil saturating the walls I couldn’t escape in my mind. A low, keening cry tore free. The rusty scent of blood, the glow of electric-blue eyes, and tinkling laughter overtook my senses.

  Snap. I remembered the sound of my bones breaking and all over again felt the quick, horrific snaps. Phantom pain engulfed my fingers and my healed hand curled into a claw. My flesh tightened with goose bumps despite the hot, heaving mass atop me.

  In my mind, warm blood rolled off my arms, legs, dripping to the dusty floor. Splat. Splat. Splat.

  I shook my head back and forth. Too bad it didn’t help push away the images—the ones I did anything to suppress—flashing before my closed lids. My breath came in quick, short bursts. Tears stung the backs of my eyes and I bit my lip to keep from crying.

  “That’s it baby, come for me. Cream all over my cock.” This was howled loud enough for all his Zeta Psi frat buddies to hear.

  My anonymous fuck misunderstood the beginnings of my panic attack for orgasm. Asshole. A real man like Dante—the person who’d helped rescue me when I’d been kidnapped and tortured six weeks ago—would understand what was happening to me.

  Too bad I’d never get to find out for sure. Dante, who resembled a walking sex god, was fifteen years older than me. The man dated perfect supermodels who had their shit together. I’d drifted far, far away from the perfect, doe-eyed, innocent-angel routine I’d been stereotyped into from the time I could walk.

  God, what would Dante think of me if he knew what I was doing? My disgust solidified and I had a moment of clarity. What was I doing to myself? Sex wasn’t working, not like I thought it would. When I tried to push the jerk off me, he grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head with one strong hand.

  From one breath to the next, my mind took over. I was strapped naked to the cold medical table, leather bindings cutting into my wrists and ankles to keep me immobile. Ice-cold air drifted over my pebbled skin. It had been the fear more than the temperature that racked my body with uncontrolled tremors. Laughter surrounded me in the yawning darkness. My heart’s rhythm tripped, the beat tripling as endorphins flooded my nervous system. The first cut hadn’t been the deepest. No. There’d been a story in my torture, a slow teasing start, a drawn-out middle and a painful climax. After I’d been let go and given the illusion of freedom, the real fun had begun.

  Panic, for long miserable moments, churned my stomach. The warmth from his slick palm touching my bare skin infused me with heat and finally pushed back the horror.

  “Let me go,” I growled.

  He released my arms and I sucked in a deep breath. The sweet scent of marijuana masked the stale taste and odor of liquor. He cupped my breast, squeezed. When I didn’t stop him, he tweaked my nipple through the sweater and bra I’d refused to shed. Fucking was all I wanted, not full-body, skin-to-skin contact.

  The painful throb helped soothe some twisted craving I now had since the former vampire queen, Lizbeth Tepes, had gotten a hold of me. As much as I hated being rutted, I hated being alone even more. I hated being cold. I hated being in the dark. I drew in another breath, this one a little easier to swallow.

  I decided against my better—albeit impaired—judgment to see this through.

  “Harder,” I said in a distant, dull voice.

  Not once during this twenty-minute ordeal did I bother to look away from the ceiling. If I looked at the man on top of me, I might see her—Lizbeth—hovering over my body with a rusted scalpel in her hand and my blood dripping from her chin.

  He shoved his wet, slimy tongue into my mouth so I could taste firsthand the stale beer on his breath. I gagged and turned my head to the side until his questing tongue found my ear. Not much better. I lay lifeless beneath him with my legs spread wide, skirt up around my waist. The only movement of my body was a consequence of his jerky, uneven jackhammering.

  “Yes, yes, yes. I’m gonna come, baby, come in your tight pussy so hard I’m gonna see stars.”

&nbs
p; Yes, please do that then get off me.

  A few seconds later, he finished his one-man race and rolled to the side. The second I was free, I sprung off the bed and smoothed my skirt down to cover my naked ass. A wave of dizziness spun through me, churned back up the nausea, and I swayed.

  Liquor. Pills. Pot. A great combination for someone who desperately wanted to forget. Too bad nothing erased the memories trapped inside my head. Nothing.

  I swiped my purse, shoes and panties—the only article of clothing I’d let him remove—from a carpet covered with dirty shirts, boxers, jeans and textbooks.

  My temporary bedmate sat up and ran a hand through his shaggy dark-brown hair. His red-rimmed eyes were both glassy and slumberous. When I looked at him and saw two noses and two mouths blurring together I knew I was more fucked-up than I’d thought.

  “It’s three in the mornin’, where you going? Stay the night with me.” He pulled off the used condom and dropped it to the floor beside the bed. Classy.

  “I don’t think so.” I wrestled my tangled blonde hair into a messy bun, turned and stumbled for the door in a moderately straight line.

  “Come on, Hannah, don’t be like that. At least leave me your digits, we had a good time, right?”

  My response was to slam his bedroom door on my way out into the trash-littered hallway of Zeta house. A wave of sound, heat and smoke hit me full force, amplifying the almost crippling self-loathing I felt. All these people had probably heard what’s-his-face screwing my brains out.

  Oh how the mighty have fallen.

  Panties tucked into my purse, heels in hand, I held my head high and plastered a fake, self-satisfied smile on my face. The post-sex makeup smeared across my face and shadows of fatigue under my eyes probably ruined the image I was going for, but for once, I didn’t care. Even though every step further dampened my elusive high, the narrow hallway spun. Under my bare feet, the floor shifted. Kaleidoscopes of blurry colors outlined the lights. Now that I wasn’t lying on my back, my brain went pleasantly foggy.

  Later, I would barely remember the beige walls decorated in blues and purples, or the large oak trophy cabinet I nearly got knocked out by when I stumbled into it. I wouldn’t recall that one person was throwing up in a corner of the hall while someone else was pissing in the other. I pushed through the throng of people waiting for the bathroom and managed to make it down the stairs.

  The girls I staggered by gave me dirty looks and turned their backs. The rejection hardly stung these days. A month and half ago, these same trendy co-eds with their bottles of Bud Light would have trailed behind me, trying to get my attention. I gave as wide a birth as I could to the men and the lustful gleam in their eyes. The only difference there was that now they dared cup their crotches.

  For years I’d strived to be the best, the prettiest and the most popular. I’d reigned queen at the top of the social ladder. A position I’d never wanted. I’ve disliked every friend and boyfriend I’d ever had. Pre- and post-torture, I was alone despite the people surrounding me.

  What I’d craved was normalcy, the storybook tale of girl meets stockbroker and has two-point-five kids complete with a white-picket fence. I had done anything I could to escape the secret, shadowy world of darkness I lived in. Most humans were ignorant of what really lurked in the dead of night—vampires, demons and shape shifters.

  Now I didn’t know if I should be relieved the façade of being perfect was demolished, or regretful that I’d never live the normal life I’d thought I’d wanted.

  “Jaxon, Bradely and Guy, now Wade. When am I gonna get a turn, baby doll?” a blue-eyed, sandy-blond-haired gut dressed in a letterman’s jacket asked.

  Ignoring the snickers and the comments that followed such as, “slut” and “whore”, I pushed my way through the partiers. As I went, I plucked a random red Solo cup from a frat-boy I was pretty sure I’d gone upstairs with last weekend and downed the contents. Liquor burned my throat. I welcomed the heat when I stepped out into the frigid night air.

  I’d never again equate cold with things like temperature, snow and winter. Everything circled back to the asylum—the halls I’d run through, the table I was tortured on and the touch of the vampire who’d stolen everything from me. Tonight proved I was never going to be me—whoever that was—again. Unfathomable sadness weighed down my every step and made it hard to move.

  Stars danced in front of my eyes and I wondered how long I had before I passed out. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and made my way, barely, across the damp, uneven grass to my car. Damn. I probably wasn’t going to be able to drive home like this.

  The piercing shrill of my cell honed in on the dull ache in the back of my head and smashed it with a hammer. I dug through my purse to silence the damn thing. I briefly glanced at the RESTRICTED text flashing on the screen before I answered.

  “Hello?” I slurred and leaned against my car for support.

  Deep, even breathing sounded through the phone.

  “Hel-lo, anyone there?” I asked, tucking my cell between my shoulder and ear before rooting around in my bag for car keys. Plastic prescription bottles knocked together, change rattled, and then there, finally, at the bottom, I felt the jagged teeth of keys.

  A deep, muffled voice echoed from the phone. “I see you, Hannah.”

  My blood froze at the use of my name. I didn’t recognize the caller as anyone I knew or would willingly give out my number to. I snapped my head up and I looked around at the people smoking cigarettes on their white, wooden patios and drinking beer in lawn chairs. Greek row was in full swing, each large, looming house lit up and exploding with music, laughter, and in some cases, breaking glass. No one was looking at me.

  “Who is this?” I asked.

  Laughter rumbled. “You don’t know me, not yet. But you will.”

  I struggled to insert key into lock, scratched the crap out of my car in the process, and managed to get the door open. “How’d you get this number?”

  “Soon I’m going to taste you and then you’ll be mine. Soon, lover.” The caller hung up.

  I collapsed into the driver’s seat and locked the door. The dark cocooned me, brought me back to the black halls I’d gotten lost in when Lizbeth had chased me through one decrepit ward after another. My fear ratcheted and petrified my limbs.

  I fought through the paralysis and turned on the overhead light. I stared at my phone for at least five minutes while I tried to slow my pounding heart. Each breath came out in a cloud of white, and because I was still high, the puffs of moisture danced and pulsed with color. For a second, I lost myself in the hallucination and forgot about the weirdo who’d called me. Stupid. I shook my head and thumbed through the alerts on my cell. There were six missed calls, all from the same blocked number.

  Some moron had probably written my number in the men’s bathroom, an action I probably deserved after the last few weeks of self-destructive behavior. I scrolled through my contacts, stopping at the E’s even though I didn’t want to. Directly above my sister, Ella, was Eli, short for Elijah.

  Something in my chest tightened. Regret. Guilt. Anger. You name it, and the emotion was there, in my heart, festering. For a short time, I’d thought maybe I could fall in love with Elijah McGregor. He saw me as no one else did. He’d kissed me as no one else had. When our lips met, the world faded under the soft glide of his tongue.

  Then everything had gone to hell. Literally.

  It was my fault we’d been attacked that day at school. My fault he’d been mauled by scary wolves. My fault he was now one of the scary wolves. My fault I wasn’t good enough for him anymore, not since the drugs and the nameless men whose faces were starting to haunt me right alongside Lizbeth. After his assault, Eli didn’t look at me, he didn’t talk to me, and he sure as hell didn’t acknowledge me. Hard to do considering we lived in the same house.

  Before I accidently drunk dialed him, I exited out of the contacts and went for the recent calls list and hit a button.<
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  “Talk to me darlin’.” Dante’s deep, rumbling voice vibrated through me.

  For another brief moment I was back in the abandoned psyche hospital, bleeding and broken, Dante’s large hands struggling with the straps cutting into my skin. You’re safe now, darlin’, I got ya. The safety of being curled in his big, strong arms was unparalleled to anything else I’d ever felt, even Eli’s mind-melting kiss.

  I sniffled and wiped my suddenly dripping nose with the back of my hand. I said into the phone, “I’m too effed-up to drive.”

  He sighed and a long beat of silence followed. “This is the fourth time this month.”

  His words, dripping with disappointment, cut through me. “I’m sorry.” I shook my head as if he could see me. “I shouldn’t have called. It’s late. Early. Whatever. You’re probably busy. I’ll take a taxi—”

  “You should always call me,” he interrupted.

  The underlying growl in his voice set the butterflies in my belly a flutter.

  “Same place?” he asked.

  Tears burned the back of my eyes as the drugs pushed out of my system and humiliation took its place. I was coming down from my high and hitting the ground harder than normal. “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there in ten, wait in your car with your doors locked. This shit stops tonight. You feel me, babe?”

  His authority penetrated my fog.

  “I feel you,” I whispered.

  For the second time that night, I was hung up on. True to his word, Dante’s brand-new silver truck rolled to a stop next to my tiny sedan and I hit the button to unlock the doors. I wondered briefly if he’d had to ditch a date to come pick me up. God, I was probably ruining his life. Since rescuing me all those weeks ago I’d become somewhat of a parasite. No one, not even my tough as nails, demon- and vampire-hunting sister, made me feel safer than my gentle lion. Too bad he wasn’t my anything.

  Speaking of lions… Dante was out of his truck and ripping open my car door before I could convince my body to move. I looked up at him and the halo of golden curls surrounding his handsome, square face. Stubble outlined his mouth and cheeks, made me want to rub my chin across the prickles.