Cursed Angels
“Am I seeing you tonight?” he asks, his tone low and husky in my ear, sending heat directly to my pussy. My clit throbs at the memory of us fucking last night.
I meet his question with one of my own. “Why? You going to miss me when I’m gone?” His mouth lifts in a smirk at my question.
“I think you’re going to be the one on the phone to me every night you’re gone with your hand in those pretty panties.” The rumble of his voice is low, gravelly with need, which has my body aching for more.
I wish so badly for him to slam me against this door and have his way with me right here, but I can’t because I’m going to be late getting on the road. Because if there’s one thing about Hunter, it’s that once is never enough.
I want to wipe the cocky smirk off his face, so I lean in, allowing my lips to trail over the shell of his ear. “I’m not wearing any panties.” With that, I turn to leave. I step outside into the scorching sunlight, but it’s the heat of his burning gaze on my back and ass that has me overheating.
Pushing my sunglasses on, I slip into the driver’s seat of my Mercedes GLS. The sleek silver and chrome was the reason I bought it. Sexy, elegant, yet a monster when I need it to be, with leather seats that heat in winter and blackened windows which allow for privacy.
Heading down the highway, I can’t help my thoughts drifting to Salem. The town itself allowed me to disappear once I’d left the orphanage. As soon as I hit the street, I ran. I didn’t look back because there was nothing to miss. Not one single thing was left in that place. I’ve heard it’s been closed down; they say it’s haunted, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it is.
Over three hundred children lived there. From the age of ten up till they hit eighteen. If they even made it that far into life. The so-called owners were sick fucks. Four of them are still alive. Free and living the life that I, along with all those children, should be living. The life my best friend would have been living had they not carved her up.
She was beautiful. With big blue eyes and blonde hair, she was the perfect doll for their sick games. I didn’t realize it until one day when she’d come back to our dorm with bruises. She slowly closed herself off. I forced her to tell me what happened. When she finally broke down and let the truth out, I threw up. On the floor beside my bed. Hearing what they did only heightened my need for escape. To get her and Archer out of there.
Only, I was too late.
I tried to rescue her, but they’d made her pay for spilling their secrets. I had just turned sixteen. Even though I wasn’t the perfect doll, they took me next. They experimented, they tortured, and they abused.
That’s when Archer told me we should run. We planned everything right down to the T.
The memory of the day he left me still brings unbidden tears to my eyes. My heart once beat only for the boy with teal-colored eyes, full lips, and the sweetness of a romantic hero.
Except he wasn’t my knight in shining armor.
Turning into the parking lot, I pull into a space near the door and exit the car. The tiny store at the corner of town is where I’m headed. Hopefully, they’ve been able to fix the lockets. “Hello, Samara. How are you?” The old man behind the counter offers me a friendly smile.
“Good. Did you manage to fix them for me?” He nods. Handing me the silver, dagger-shaped amulets, I inspect them, finding them good as new. “Thank you.” After I’ve paid him, I’m on my way back to The Warehouse to collect my luggage.
The small, silver gifts I have for each member of the staff lie in the holster beside the gears. They’ll stay in the car until I get back. Till I return to the town that took everything from me. Where my innocence was stolen. Where my best friend was murdered. And where I lost the only boy I’ve ever loved. But the difference now is I’m all grown up.
I’m stronger.
And the love I once held in my heart is gone.
It’s cold and barren in my heart.
Hate is an easy emotion to live with. Even though it slowly eats your soul, the pain is nonexistent.
Love allows you to trust others.
Hate allows you to trust yourself.
Chapter 2
Archer
The rough, hessian sack is pulled off my head. Harsh daylight floods into my squinting eyes to reveal a rundown warehouse, probably on the outskirts of Salem as we didn’t travel far. Through the slits of my eyes, I take in the surroundings, marking the exits, two and three windows, and a number of soon-to-be dead men. If these fuckers think disorientating me will give them a chance to defeat me, then they are stupider than they look. The guy with the red mohawk and smart suit looks particularly idiotic. I’m the best in my field. The strongest, quickest, and deadliest. I barely break a sweat in a one-on-one fight; four-on-one is a small training session. I’m unbeatable and arrogant about it. I have no soul because I no longer have her.