The Dark Elite (The Dark Elite 1)

“I don’t… know.” I shake my head, running my fingertips over the dress—the wedding dress.

Pop!

Blood splatters over my hands and stains the soft white of the dress. I look up, hand closing over my mouth in horror at the sight of my dad—the back of his head blown off, splattered against the wall, eyes frozen in terror. Suddenly, we’re not around the table anymore, but at the church, and my veil is grasped in his hands as he falls to the ground, clutching his side.

I scream, but the noise is caught in my throat as a hand reaches out and drags me away from the scene, pulling me into protection. Someone large and powerful shields me with his body as he leads us away from the danger, pulling us into a room that’s safe.

But no. It’s not safe. I’ll never be safe here.

The room around me is the room I hate. The room I know all too well already, with the bare, water-stained walls and the ancient-looking wooden dresser set against one wall.

The room I’m held captive in.

I’m trapped on the bed again—only this time, my arms aren’t bound. I should be able to run for freedom, but I can’t move. The air feels like it’s on fire. It’s a thousand degrees in here, and I’m drenched in sweat, trying to pull away from the sheets and clothes sticking to my body.

The door creaks open, bringing with it a gentle waft of cool air and the one man I never wanted to see again.

Hale.

He moves across the barren bedroom and sits at the foot of the bed, watching me like a predator would watch his prey.

Waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

To devour.

To destroy.

His eyes flicker with lust as he drags his gaze over me, contemplating.

“I always liked you in this dress,” he says as he reaches for my ankle, dragging me closer to him. I’m in the red dress again—or maybe my wedding dress has just been soaked completely through with blood. “After that dinner… after your birthday, I couldn’t stop thinking about you in it. ”

His hand roams higher up my leg, stopping at the back of my knee and caressing the inside of my leg. The warmth of his fingers is contrasted by the shivers that follow in their wake, and my body feels alive to his touch.

“You’ve always haunted me, Grace.” He frowns, watching his hand as it strokes my skin. “Everything about you was so…”

As his fingers brush my inner thigh, I want to pull away, scream to myself to wake up because this is all a dream, I know it is.

But it feels just as real as the last time he touched me.

Hale’s hungry gaze moves up my body, and he crawls up onto the mattress to settle between my legs. His fingers skim over the crotch of my panties, and he smiles when he feels the wet heat of my arousal already soaking through the fabric. But this smile is different from the one he wore earlier, when he made me come to punish Zaid.

That smile was cold and hard as a block of ice.

This smile?

It’s all heat. All warmth and satisfaction. As if finding me wet and ready for him is the greatest gift he’s ever been given.

As if he likes seeing me this way.

“I thought you hated me,” I murmur, trying to find the hatred inside myself even as I speak. “I thought you said I was a liar.”

Hale looks up at me, his light touch still teasing my core. He slides a finger down the fabric, rubbing my folds through the thin barrier and drawing a breathy sigh from my lips.

“Are you?” There’s something almost like vulnerability in his eyes as he stares down at me. “Is this a lie?”

He strokes me again, and my inner walls clench as more wetness seeps from me. “No.”

Hale smiles broadly. Then, so fast I’m not prepared for it, he grabs the fabric of my panties in both hands and shreds the flimsy garment from my body, shoving my dress up around my waist. I gasp as cool air hits my pussy, and the gasp turns into a yelp when Hale buries his face between my legs.