A Dark Place (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 5)
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A Dark Place
a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 5
Kailee Reese Samuels
A DARK PLACE
a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 5
Copyright © 2020 by Kailee Reese Samuels
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including, but not limited to, photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of author credited, brief quotations in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely and purely coincidental.
All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
E-Book Edition: October 20, 2020
ISBN 978-1-947362-94-9
Editing by The Red Pen Queen
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Also by Kailee Reese Samuels
22
A&E
Bad Girl
Juliet
Kinky Sex Magic
Madness
Poppy
She/He
a Tomb of Ashen Tears
Salt Kissed Love
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Every Minute I Love You
Diary of a Submissive
A Dark Place
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SONS
Son of Saint
Son of Angel
Son of Cirque
Sal Raniero Thrillers
Unspoken (Prequel to Hey Pretty)
Sal Raniero’s Little Black Book
Prequel (The Contract)
Sal Raniero’s Little Black Book 1
The Story of Salvatore
The Initiation
Tea for Two
Grunt
Hopechest
RIDE
Fluff
Bounce
Raw
Nocturne
A Shimmering Dream
The Red Shoes
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Playlists for all of the books are available on Spotify.
PRINTABLE READING LIST - Sal’s Reading List
ADP Playlist
Listen to the music that inspired A Dark Place on Spotify
111 songs for 111 chapters.
I am intentionally not including the list due to the length of the book.
Thank you for tripping my wires, fueling my art, and inspiring me.
k xx
The first thing I told you was
- WE’RE GOING ON A JOURNEY -
and that remains true to this day.
For the best experience, pause between episodes.
“A woman's guess is much more accurate than a man's certainty.”
– Rudyard Kipling
Contents
I. Prelude to Chaos
survival
N E R O
No Shame
November 2019
1. the winter chill in the southern hemisphere
2. Hitting the Zodiac
3. A Not So Innocent Saint
4. UNh0lY W R E C K
II. Second to None
Summer 2019
5. No Shortcut to Paradise
6. Steal Some Tarts
7. Pluck the Catgut
8. Give My Regards to the Old Bastard
9. Table for Eleven. Tea for One.
10. Soul-Depleting Hellcat
11. Bless Me In Your Flames
12. dominate my love with your strict rule
13. four posts
14. the standoff
15. unpleasant reminders of things long forgotten
III. Creeps Upon the Earth
16. All That I Am In a Lemon Meringue
17. oscurità
18. rites of tenebrous passage
19. 純愛 p u r elove
20. Spill My Guts
21. Blood on My Hands and the Sauce in Her Grotto
22. the meeting of the minds
23. Daughters of the Waters
24. water of the last moment
25. no migrant to these blood soaked lands
26. light the fuse
IV. A Faint Hatchling
27. I’m Reacting Now
28. water of the first moment
29. f e e d t h e beast
30. passing the night
31. Tangled in an Angel
32. Pendulum Swinging in a Stolen Shrine
33. Six Thousand Miles and Who I Am
34. Unwanted
35. Suffocating in a Pavilion
36. Breaking Point
37. Until Peru
V. An Omen of War
38. One Hello
39. Reviviscence
40. Grey Water
41. Crippling Depression
42. little terrorists hitching a taxi ride
43. An Invader Stealing My Last Cigarette
44. A Mad Q U E E N
45. Hateful Situation
46. When I Get Mine
47. He knew before me.
48. w H i P P e ∂
VI. the ghost of strigiformes
Early Fall 2019
49. Two Houses
50. The Sacrifice
51. Hostile Situation
52. A Red Dress, A Bottle of Tequila, and A Sinful Saint
53. Straight to Hell
54. One Waitress Strategist, Please
55. A Haunting Coda
56. if you only knew
57. The Gilded Bones
58. Raising Hell
59. Elastic Sacs
VII. The Drop Off
60. A Shallow Shore
61. Into the Lands of the Big Dicks
62. Fuck With My Fists
63. Into the Abysmal Sweltering Seas
64. Count Your Blessings
65. Fortune Cookies, Anyone?
66. A Monster in a Machina
67. No Rose Colored Towels
68. The Levee
69. A Path, A Crossing, and Zero Resistance
70. Let the Water Break
71. The Sway of One Lotus
VIII. A Revolutions Menacing Error
72. Breach the Light
73. A Riveting Chess Match
74. A God’s Call
75. Hostage Situation
76. Snakes in Jungles
77. Who Will Save My Prayers?
78. the princess and the hellhound
79. racherché splooge
80. Little Leprechaun Go Away
81. A Fortunate Abduction
82. CODA
83. D-FAM
84. lachrymose savant
85. A Bomb Clock
IX. Casus Belli
86. One Night That Brought The Sun
87. Wailing Flowers
88. Argh! Ahoy, me mateys!
89. Rats in Cages
90. Silent Baptism
91. The Milkmaid’s Revolt
92. The War We Didn’t Plan
93. a blizzard in a desert
94. ruby red in the jungle
95. slaughter the cow, inherit the soul
X. East of Eden
November 2019
96. Facts of the Actual Event
97. Intentions of Gold<
br />
98. More Than Me
99. dark labyrinths
100. in our tragedy
101. Green Lights Shaded Blue
102. sharks in the sea
103. The Catalyst of Reckoning
104. Deus Benefaction
XI. Monsters Like Me
105. Compromise the Barriers
106. Break the Fence
107. Stalk the Prey
108. And
109. Punish
110. Without
111. Conscience
Forbidden Sins
Love the Sal?
Ms. Samuels Notes #29
I
Prelude to Chaos
survival
According to the dictionary, triggers are distressing situations, bringing on feelings of past trauma.
I fundamentally disagree with the definition because—good and bad triggers—exist. From the taste of an old family recipe to the smell of grandma’s soap, we are triggered by good memories as well as bad.
Not every trigger is foul.
We must strive to detail the language, understanding that tone, amplitude, and volume—the execution of the delivery makes the difference.
And I also shun the common overuse of the word. We’re rife with warnings, numbing our machine’s handling capabilities. We’re altering our processors in doing such. Our hard drives can withstand great amounts of stress, pressure, and misfires.
We are built for survival.
Don’t overclock and melt—cool the burn.
Don’t avoid—overcome.
Find balance.
N E R O
Nero are the elite influencers in the mafia.
Nominated by a recommendation letter, qualified candidates are selected by the priests of Sanctum. Assassins must have an outstanding track record of discretion, a quick-thinking ability, and possess a thoroughbred pedigree. Due to the family lineage requirement of the guild, no Nero is an unknown. However, their identity remains undisclosed, even within the clandestine operation.
After a Nero member furnishes a black coin emblazoned with a fleur de lys, an initiate commits to life, swearing to secrecy, and serving to protect time-honored traditions—interrogating with barbaric tactics, delivering merciless punishment, and honoring their marriage to Sanctum, the sacred state of the mafias.
Existent rejections to join do not occur.
Failure warrants a death sentence by the brotherhood.
Nero number less than fifty.
No Shame
“You are a killer. And The Commission and Sanctum are extending a cordial invitation to visit their tomb. They’re waiting for a legend,” Massimiliano Vidal claims. “But understand, joining Nero will be your marriage vows.”
“They don’t marry?”
“Rarely, ever.”
“Sounds like a dark place I would love,” I snicker, grinding my jaw. “There will be no shame amongst the famiglia.”
His hand brushes the side of my curls as he whispers, “Have no shame, Lucas.”
November 2019
1
the winter chill in the southern hemisphere
His Butterfly
The blinding memory flashes a bright strobe in the darkened forest of my recollections. The skeletons nimbly march with the heavy din of footsteps in the debris as I stay eclipsed in the shadows. With my toes sluicing in the sloshy mud of minutes passed, I reconcile the heartache and vow to hire a therapist to be accountable for the registry of my grievances.
My scars won’t be forgotten.
My hair blusters around in the whip whirl of the helicopter blades as it launches into the sky. I drop the gun to the ground with a heavy thud. My head lowers with regret, knowing I should’ve begged for transport away from this gruesome place.
This dark jungle is infesting me.
The memories relentlessly hunt, coursing over my body, tearing at my flesh, and impacting my heart with punctuated jabs.
I cannot escape.
When the beast hovers overhead with those who departed, I spot the passenger who exited upon arrival. The black ball cap restricts the movement of his delicate tendrils, just like he prohibits my disappearance.
They will not get out of this alive. They will be ripped apart, shredded by sharks, as saltwater pours into the wounds and tenderizes the meat to be fed to gators in the swamps. And I will be forgotten—left to die—withering in the sun, the decomposition hastened by the elements.
A rotting flower.
With my thin charcoal hair strewn up in pigtails, I tugged on my grandfather’s sleeve. I had been staying with my grandparents since Christmas because my parents were always fighting.
“Hey! What are you doing?” I loudly yelled, garnering his attention. He opened one eye, peering down as I demanded, “What are you doing?”
The balding, older middle-aged man said, “I’m meditating.”
Without regard to his cross-legged position, I crawled into his lap. “Why?”
“Because this is how I pray.”
Tears stream over my cheeks as my tongue flicks over saline lips. I part them with the breath, collecting the pieces I can before disappearing. The urge to erase the past clings, but I keep running…running…faster…deeper into the woods…into this life chosen for me.
This life of a mafia princess.
I am nothing but a rotting flower.
And every time I escape a few inches, insidious monsters rise from the gutters, hauling me back down into the catacombs of hell again.
I will never be free; I am enslaved.
Bound to the past, he is my Master.
This life, my prison.
My hands pressed against the glass as drool frothed from my mouth on his every thrust. “What are you doing?”
“Taking what is mine.”
“You’re borrowing time,” I muttered, lacing my fingers with his. “And eventually, you won’t be able to pay your debts.”
“I’ll find forgiveness in the confessional.”
Dripping in diamonds, I cackled, “You pray often?”
“Only when I’m fucking you.”
“… And what about Saint?” I sharply accused. “You pray he fucks you?”
His hip dance slowed to a still. “Don’t say his name in vain.”
“He’s your number one,” I pointed out. “He always will be.”
With his hands holding my buttocks, he leaned back. “You still don’t get it, Dandelion.”
“You’re blowing wishes off of me to get to him, Raniero.”
“You have no clue who or what I’ll blow to keep you safe.”
I glare at the helicopter sweeping over the mountains into the blue oblivion and understand the choices I have made foretell a future in a scrying orb that I may not want to see. My pale cream dress is the canvas stained with blood splatter from a madman’s painting.
I am tainted, tarnished, and weathered. My skin is toughened leather, suitable for the distant reaches we must go to achieve victory, and penetrable by those fortunate enough to guess the weakest spots, worn and frayed from years of use.
I am not a product of neglect but crafted in the depths, sheltered in the core, and suitable to blend into any shallow environment or convoluted bunker tucked within the dirt. I am the perfect arm candy for any sportsman, showman, or…mafia boss.
Closing my eyes, I remember the party for Soleil, a darling four-year-old girl who was unfortunately blessed in the unrest of being born a Herrera. Balloons and ribbons and paper flowers. Cake. Sparkling candles. Little fingers. Sticky smiles. And laughter.