by Erica M Kim
Made of Darkness
Book One of the Lunis Kendall Series
Erica M. Kim
Copyright © 2019 by Erica M. Kim/Luminary Publishing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art Designed by Natasha MacKenzie
To James.
For your unwavering dedication.
For helping make this dream a reality.
For believing in me, always.
A Note from the Author
At the core of Made of Darkness, is a story about a woman struggling with self-acceptance and self-love. It’s a theme that many of us are familiar with, and one that deeply resonates with me.
My dear reader, I hope you enjoy getting to know Lunis Kendall. I certainly did while writing about her.
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
Tears flooded my eyes, and I prayed to the gods that it was just a bad dream. Please, let it all have been just a dream. Please. As I approached my house, I wished for more than anything to find my parents at home, deeply engaged in conversation as they always were, eating a hearty, warm breakfast. With each step toward home, I willed my wish to be true.
But when I got home, the garage door was still open, and my parents’ silver sedan was missing. My heart began its dark descent toward hell. Once I entered our kitchen, utterly too quiet, my mother and father were nowhere to be found. Reality settled in like a heavy stone in my stomach, unpassable and unforgivable. The messages on the answering machine only confirmed my worst nightmare.
My hands began to shake, and my breath quickened as crippling panic overtook every nerve in my body. As my knees hit the floor, I heard a pitiful, gut-wrenching scream in the distance, only to realize seconds later that the sound had escaped from my own throat. Convulsive cries washed over me, wave after wave crashing down on me, and each gulp of air only pushed the cold truth in deeper: my parents were dead. The only people in the world who loved me were gone. Because of me. Because I was a monster.
I cried for hours, but it felt like days. I drowned in a pool of tears and gasped for air in what felt like an eternal depth of sorrow. During these pitiful hours, dark, destructive thoughts crossed my mind endlessly. It felt like it would have been so much easier and better for me to end everything. But ultimately, I knew that to succumb to those tempting dark thoughts would have been the worst way to honor my mother and father. My parents would have wanted me to live, not only live but try to have a normal, happy life. I didn’t think that would ever be possible—especially now.
When I finally had the strength to pick myself up from the kitchen floor, the sun was nearly gone as dusk settled in through the blinds. My mouth was parched, and my voice was hoarse. I crept into the bathroom, peeled off my muddy clothes, and took a long, hot shower. As the dirt swirled down the white bathtub into the drain, I imagined washing away the monster in me. I scrubbed my skin until my entire body was pink and raw.
I would never forgive myself for what happened that day, and I made two vows. One: I would do whatever it takes to gain control over the monster that emerged from me every full moon. Two: I would put my heart in an iron cage and throw away the keys forever so that I could never hurt anyone I love ever again.
1
New Moon
The sky is brighter and bluer than usual for Los Angeles in January, and the sun beats down unmercifully, warming the worn-down, cracked asphalt streets and the spray-tanned skin of the residents. Yesterday’s rain dissolved most of the brown, hazy pollution that typically festers on top of the city like mold. The people of the City of Angels are rejoicing that the sun is finally back in its place after three whole days of wretched gloom and drizzle. Oh, the horror. As I slowly stroll through the streets of Santa Monica, I take in a deep breath of the salty sea breeze.
Despite the sunny weather, I refuse to take part in the faux-summer climate like my fellow local citizens. I’m clad in a form-fitting, gray long sleeve shirt and black pants. No matter how harshly the sun etches its rays onto my skin, and regardless of the hours I spend trying to achieve the California glow, my skin is unrelenting. And while some cultures cherish pale, milky skin, I stick out like a sore thumb amongst the residents of Los Angeles.
I have heard more than my fair share of: “Lunis, you’re so pale. You need some sun, girl.” Not that I care. On most days, I purposefully and skillfully choose to hide most of my skin, almost as if to match the modesty of the moon.
On this particular Thursday, I walk into the dog-grooming salon that I own, Hair of the Dog, with a light step in my gait. I look around the tiny, immaculate shop and smile proudly. Despite being a dog salon, I invested a hefty chunk of change to give the entire place a modern look and feel. The walls are white, and the shop is furnished with bright neon accents. On one side of the wall hangs a bright-pink neon sign of the salon’s name. And the best part, I offer complimentary mini bottles of rosé champagne in a wine fridge at check-in because the name wouldn’t be appropriate otherwise. I think LA customers like bringing their precious pups into a salon that looks like a place they would go to themselves.
Hair of the Dog came into my ownership two years ago when I finally saved enough money after an assignment with the Russians through my “other job.” This shop is just about the only good thing that came from that assignment.
The past two years of running the dog salon have been some of the most pleasant times of my life. Not only am I exceptionally deft with a pair of shears and clippers, but I also have a way with canines. It is almost as if dogs can sense that somewhere deep inside of me, there is a beast far more formidable than them. Even the most unruly and aggressive dogs become utterly obedient in my presence. I’ve seen owners drop their jaws to the floor when their
feisty pets submissively obey my command. That alone keeps my business growing.
Financial stability has been a nice bonus too. Don’t get me wrong, the “other job” lets me occasionally splurge on the nice things that I love, but the dog salon is starting to provide stable income that I’m using to plan for my future. A future that hopefully doesn’t include assassin on my résumé.
But above all things, I enjoy the lack of human interaction that this business requires. Dog owners are prompted to enter all necessary information about their pet and payment via an electronic touch screen at the front desk. The system will even send an automated text message when the dog is ready for pick-up. The only conversations I really take part in are fielding questions from a concerned owner and the occasional communication if I see a problem with a dog. This is every introvert’s dream career—trust me.
“Hola, Lunis!” My only employee, clad in the salon’s black T-shirt uniform, loudly greets me as I open the door to the salon. His dark hair covers his eyes, and his long, lanky arms are pretty good at wrestling even the most unwieldy canines. I return a smile for his enthusiasm.
“Hola, Ramon. When is our first appointment?”
“9:30, ma’am,” Ramon responds with a smile glued to his face. It took me a while to get used to his nearly constant happy-go-lucky character, but now I appreciate it.
Ramon barely speaks English, which means we don’t talk much—and I’m not complaining about that. Ramon has worked for me for about a year and is more concerned about doing a good job than inquiring about the particulars of his boss. He is smart enough to stay clear of me when the nights become brighter, and my temper becomes stormier.
Leaving Ramon to diligently prep for today’s customers, I walk to the back where the sudsy action takes place. Despite working with wet dogs all day, I refuse to have a shop that smells like it, and I’m pleased to find the scent of lavender greet my senses as I turn the corner. It’s the simple things that matter.
The keys to my office are lost in the abyss that is my black purse, so I set it on the floor and squat down to find them. Why does this always happen?! I make a mental note to throw out half the shit I carry around in my purse. After digging for a good thirty seconds, I finally locate the keys, unlock the door, and enter my office.
It’s a small square space with just enough room to fit a desk and safe. I put my purse in the safe and check to see if the pistol is tucked inside. You never know what could happen in LA. After seeing the weapon is still in the safe, I lock it again and get ready to step back out into the chaos. Outside I hear Ramon take in our first client. It should be a bichon frisé named Taffy. I let out a long, satisfied sigh. So, the day begins. I welcome the daily grind and routine. Taffy yelps as Ramon turns on the faucet. Sounds like I need to regulate.
By the afternoon, we’ve already washed and dried all eight dogs that were scheduled. I’m cleaning the bathtub as Ramon walks each of them outside around the back of the shop. I find solace in scrubbing the tub back and forth with a single focus determination. The lemony scent of an environmentally sustainable cleaning agent fills my nostrils. My focus is interrupted by the unexpected arrival of a customer.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” A man’s voice echoes through the shop. I consider not responding, but his voice is so warm and inviting that I want to see the face that accompanies it. Peeling off the soapy gloves, I straighten my shirt before going to the front.
As soon as I lay eyes on the owner of this voice, I’m glad I decided to respond. He has luscious chestnut-brown hair and stunningly blue eyes. His skin is gloriously bronze as if he spends hours in the sun. His black V-neck T-shirt fits nicely across his defined chest.
And when he smiles, a dazzling line of perfectly white, straight teeth make an appearance. I feel my heart unexpectedly flutter, and I almost blush out of shock. What the hell? The laws of attraction don’t apply to me, but this man, gods, he is gorgeous.
“I don’t have an appointment, but I’ve read great things about your salon, and I’m in a bit of an emergency. My aunt is coming into town this weekend, and my dog here, Chase, is in no presentable condition. As you can see.” He waves his hand around his dog with a slightly apologetic smile.
I wrench my gaze away from this Adonis to steal a glance at the cream-colored golden retriever and slightly nod when I see he is covered in mud, sand, and gods know what else.
Realizing that I haven’t spoken a word yet, I slightly shake my head as if to knock myself back to reality. Come on, Lunis. The golden barks, as if to aid me back to my senses.
“I can take him today; I’m actually done with all the other appointments.” I hear my voice finally find itself. “Fill out Chase’s information on the touchscreen over there.” I point toward the device. “And I’ll take him around to the back. He’ll be done in about two hours.”
“Perfect.” Then he gives me another disarmingly warm smile, and I melt into the ground just a little. Shocked, I don’t even move; instead, I just stand there like an idiot, gripping the countertop like a lifeline.
Luckily, Chase trots over to me happily and licks my hand. Geez, goldens are so happy all the time.
“See you in a couple of hours then,” he says after checking in. The dreamy man flashes another smile and leaves. I take the opportunity to check out his ass as he exits. Yep, pretty satisfying view on that end too.
I wash several dogs all day every day, and Chase is by far one of the happiest, most amicable dogs that I have ever washed. Every scrub and rinse only lead to his strong tail wagging joyously, as he relentlessly attempts to lap up water flowing from the shower faucet. His big brown eyes twinkle with joy, and I swear I could see his mouth form in the shape of a wide grin.
While filing down his nails, my mind wanders back to his owner. I try to shove him out, but he finds a way to creep back in, and so I give in. I wonder what his name is. I could easily go look up the information on the computer at the front of the shop, but I refuse. I’m shocked at the intensity of my curiosity and I force myself to exercise some control over the attraction.
As I brush Chase’s teeth, my body stifles a shudder as my mind suddenly flashes an image of his owner’s smile and his full lips. Stop it. Stop being a fool. I know that love is just not possible in my life, and even lust could prove to be fatal. With that reminder, I try to focus on the task at hand while Chase’s tail wags uncontrollably in response. If only I could be so carefree and happy. Chase gives me a big wet lick on the face as if to tell me that I could be.
2
Exactly two hours later, Chase’s owner returns, gripping two iced coffees, one in each hand. I can’t help but crack a small smile when I see him enter the shop.
“This,” he says as he hands me one of the cold beverages, “is for taking Chase in last minute without an appointment. You must have already had a long day before taking him.” I accept the coffee with a shy smile.
“Thank you,” I respond quietly. It’s been so long since someone has been kind to me that I don’t know what else to say.
“I didn’t even get to introduce myself earlier. My name is Lio Manos, and I’m guessing you’ve already been well-acquainted with the love of my life, Chase.”
A very clever way to reveal your relationship status, Lio. There is no way he would call his dog the “love of his life” if he had a girlfriend . . . right? Being a newbie to any sort of flirty banter, I can’t say I’m 100 percent sure. I stealthily glance at his left hand. No ring, either.
“I’m Lunis, dog groomer extraordinaire. And I didn’t mind taking Chase last minute. He’s such a gentle and friendly dog.” I return Lio’s radiant smile with my own heartbreaker smile. Yep, I brought my big guns, and they are blazing. Oh great, I think I’m flirting with him.
Lio’s eyes travel to my lips, and I swear they linger for a moment before they meet my eyes. He gazes at me for a second too long, like he’s trying to decipher me. I am officially blushing. Lunis, check yourself before you wreck yourself
!
“If you’re not a coffee drinker, can I take you out for another kind of drink if you’re ready to close up shop? Or a meal? It’s almost dinner time; you must be famished.” His concern for my state of being is earnest.
My head spins just slightly. For the last several years of my life, I have lived a rigid, unrelenting life. Never, not even once since my parents’ death, or even prior, have I given into attraction, but I feel a magnetic pull toward this man I barely know. Just being in his presence is kicking up all of my senses into high gear. It feels like I had seen the world in black and white, and for the first time, I am seeing a flash of bold colors. It is both shockingly and undeniably wonderful. A wave of electricity and anxiety passes through my body like a ghost. Whoa.
“Yes. I mean, no, I shouldn’t,” is my flabbergasted response. “Thank you for the coffee, but I really can’t go right now.” Lio’s blue eyes penetrate my own as if he is literally reading every thought passing through my clunky mind. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I stick firmly to my immutable resolve to keep my distance.
