Shadowed Heart: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (A Death So Sweet Book 1)

by Candace Wondrak

  Shadowed Heart

  A Death So Sweet: Book One

  Candace Wondrak

  © 2020 Candace Wondrak

  All Rights Reserved.

  Book cover by Melony Paradise at Paradise Cover Design – Premade Book Covers Group

  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.

  Books by Candace Wondrak are only available at Amazon. If you are reading elsewhere, please note it is an illegal, pirated copy, uploaded without my permission. I, the author, nor the distributor received payment for the copy, and if prosecuted violation comes with a fine of up to $250,000. Please do not pirate books.

  Chapter One – Lola

  Chapter Two – Lola

  Chapter Three – Maddox

  Chapter Four – Lola

  Chapter Five – Sylvester

  Chapter Six – Lola

  Chapter Seven – Viper

  Chapter Eight – Lola

  Chapter Nine – Lola

  Chapter Ten – Maddox

  Chapter Eleven – Lola

  Chapter Twelve – Richard

  Chapter Thirteen – Lola

  Chapter Fourteen – Lola

  Chapter Fifteen – Sylvester

  Chapter Sixteen – Lola

  It was a dark and stormy night when…

  Nah, I’m just shitting you. It wasn’t a dark and stormy night. I mean, it was dark, but ain’t all nights dark in the lacking-of-sun way? Anywho, it was just a regular old night for me. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Got all dolled up and went out.

  Little did I know that night would be one of the last normal nights of my life.

  Now, I like to think I’m a pretty normal girl. At twenty-two years old, I’m a beautiful bombshell that can make any poor sap fall onto his knees for me. It ain’t hard. I learned young that men are all the same, a dime a dozen, and most of the time, they think with their dicks.

  Yeah, just a normal gal, you see. I like the color pink, I can rock out to any type of music—though Frankie Sinatra is totally my jam—and I ain’t afraid to get dirty. I like my knives as much as the next girl—which is to say, I know how to use them.

  I like using ‘em, actually, perhaps a bit more than the next girl, but that’s because… well, it’s a long story. Let’s just say my childhood wasn’t filled with butterflies and roses and unicorn shit. No, the very opposite. I come from money, you see, and when you have money, you tend to ignore the rules. You make your own, and sometimes the little angels pay the price. I certainly did.

  But no more.

  I don’t know how long I’ll be alive—some might say I have a death wish—but I plan on taking a few of those motherfucking cunts out before I kick the bucket and push up daisies.

  Just a warning: I go hard. I go hard and I go rough, and maybe a little crazy. Oh, and I like to cuss; have to make up for all those years mommy and daddy didn’t let me swear, you know? Really stick it to them, more than I already have, that is.

  Still with me? Good, because this thing is wild, trust me. Turn that page if you think you’re ready.

  Chapter One – Lola

  With a strapless, tiny as hell black dress plastered to my body like spray paint, I was any man’s home run for the night. My blonde hair was neatly tucked into a brown wig, my whole face dolled up like I was some influencer on the newest app. Blended eyeshadow to light up my blue eyes, my full lips covered in a matte red lipstick; I looked like I could kill.

  And you know what? Even in these four-inch, thin-as-spaghetti heels, I could.

  Some people might scoff at me for wearing a wig, call me a wuss or whatever, but the vain part of me wanted this little game to continue for as long as it could. I liked the chase, the cat and mouse back-and-forth I played with myself every weekend.

  They gave me a name, you know. Well, a nickname because they didn’t know who was committing all the crimes, leaving men dead and naked in their own beds. The Night Slayer. Had a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

  Oh. Uh, yeah. I might be a teeny, tiny killer of men. You know, no biggie or anything there, right? Who didn’t want to kill a few guys now and then? Totally normal. I wasn’t out of my mind in the slightest.

  Okay, maybe just a little, but shh. Don’t tell anyone. Personally, I blamed mommy and daddy, along with one other person, but I refused to give that particular douchebag the light of day in my mind.

  I sat at the bar in one of my favorite clubs. Bars and clubs in general were the best places to find those guys—you know the ones. The ones who preyed on the girls who were too drunk to walk right, the ones whose friends already left them for their own dick for the night. Me? I came alone, but I did not plan on leaving alone. I was looking for my next target. My next prey who thought with his schlong.

  Men like that didn’t deserve to keep living, if you ask me. No one ever did, but still, that’s what I thought, and that’s why I did what I did. The police let them off. They were bought out by money left and right. If a rich white boy raped a poor girl, no one batted an eye. Judges acted like they’re guilty for sentencing boys with a bright future to two years probation after raping a nine-year-old girl.

  Personally, I was sick and tired of it. Sick of men thinking they could do whatever the fuck they wanted to whoever the fuck they wanted, consequences or not. I might only be one person, but at least I’d take a few of those fuckers out before I met the electric chair.

  I mean, I’d probably be super old before the state executed me—or maybe I’d be beaten up and shanked to death in prison before that day came; that’s what happened to a lot of serial killers who got caught and ended up behind bars, right?

  Some people might be scared of their inevitable capture and demise. Me? Eh, I’d faced worse in my life. Grew up in a gilded cage full of shit, so I was ready. The heart in my chest was nothing but a shadow, a black mass of void; I didn’t care how long I lived.

  Nursing my drink, I threw a look around the club. Loud music played overhead, a mass of bodies near the DJ dancing, grinding together, practically having sex on the dance floor. Hey, I didn’t care how anyone got their rocks off, as long as it was consensual. That was my biggest thing, clearly.

  Some people stood to the sides, near the few tables there were near the bar, huddled with their friends… all except one guy. One guy who currently stared at me as if I was the only gal in this place, the only one who’d caught his attention.

  Probably because he’d seen me drinking for the last hour and a half. I bet he thought, with my tiny stature and thin frame, I was nudging myself pretty close to drunk with each sip. When the time was right, he would swoop in and act like he was saving the day. Er, the night? Whatever. With his magic dick, I bet he thought he’d make everything all right.

  He didn’t look much older than me. Maybe a year or two. Slicked back black hair that shone almost blue in the strobing light, with dark eyes that almost seemed as soulless as I felt. He wore all black too, as if he was purposefully trying to blend in and not call attention to himself.

  Ah, well, I saw him, of course. I wasn’t an idiot. I’d seen him the very first moment he started to hover in the surrounding area, keeping an eye on me.

  I finished my current drink, acting like I wanted to get up and go dancing. A pretty girl like me, in such a revealing dress, all alone? The perfect prey to someone like Dickless. I chose to call him Dickless in my mind, because
what better name to give to a man who would take advantage of a girl who was too drunk to ever fully give consent?

  Since I’d gotten to the club around midnight, it was well after that, now. Traffic would be dead in the city, which meant fewer eyes on us. I’d nursed enough to be believably drunk, and by now I had the routine down pat: the slightly wobbly feet, made worse with my choice of footwear, the slouching posture, loose bones, glazed over eyes… oh, yeah. I could play it like a fiddle.

  With my peripherals, I spotted Dickless coming over, finally deciding to approach me once he saw how out of it I was. Some girls in this club were genuinely drunk, but if I could save them from one predator, well, my job was far from done, but it was one less fucktard to walk the streets and act like he made no mistakes.

  This… I would be his last mistake.

  When he was close enough, I twisted my ankle, falling. Dickless managed to catch me, though I did most of the work for him, and I sheepishly grinned as I glanced up at his face. A bit tall, a bit muscular, but all in all, not the biggest guy I’d taken down.

  “Thank you,” I spoke, slurring my words just a bit.

  Dickless eyed me up like the piece of meat he thought I was, dragging those black eyes up and down my bare legs. “How do you walk in those things?”

  I giggled, still holding onto his arms, his hands still gripping me and holding me upright, as if I needed him for support. “Years of practice.” I bit my lower lip, giving him the most seductive look I could. It had taken down many men in the past, and after tonight was over, it would continue to do so. Dickless wouldn’t be my end. “Dance with me.” Not a question, and I purposefully didn’t ask if he was here with anyone. Obviously he wasn’t, and I knew how to play ‘em by now.

  You didn’t ask. You simply told them. It’s the game they played, so why not turn the tables on them?

  Dickless gave me another once-over before nodding. His hands fell off my arms, and he gripped a single hand, leading me to the undulating crowd near the giant speakers in the front. Once we merged in with the dancing crowd, he spun me so that I faced him, his hands like iron on my back as we both started swaying to the fast, upbeat music.

  The good thing about music like this was they all sounded so similar, so same-y. As long as you picked up on the beat, you could dance to it and never have to hear the song again in your entire life.

  Dickless had no qualms about the lack of space between us, and after a little while, I felt something hard pressing against my lower stomach. This was going to be too easy, I thought.

  I closed my eyes, losing myself in the music, all the while still playing a mixture of coy and drunk. Every so often I’d lose my balance and have to hold onto him for support. Dancing in heels was a killer workout for your calves, let me tell you.

  You know what else was a workout? Stabbing someone twenty times.

  I couldn’t say how much time passed before I felt Dickless tug me away from the dance floor, into the shadows and away from the strobing lights. His hands were needy and grasping, even as we stood there, away from everyone else. He seemed totally unaffected at the erection pressing against his pants.

  “We should take this party to my place,” Dickless said, the words coming out of his throat in a way I was certain he thought was sexy and appealing. And, maybe if I wasn’t me, maybe if I was someone else with a whole lot less baggage weighing them down, I might think he was cute.

  But I was me, and I was a gal on a mission. No cute face would stop me from doing what I set out to do tonight.

  Licking my lower lip—and totally catching his gaze watching me do it—all I did was nod, my black heart leaping with excitement. It was always made easier when they were the ones inviting me home. To invite myself was a little harder, though it wasn’t like it couldn’t be done. Anything could be done if you worked hard enough at it.

  Look at me, for example. If you passed me on the streets, I bet no one would take one look at me and immediately assume I was a crazed killer, out to slaughter any fool with a dick who acted like he preyed on drunk girls at clubs and bars. I didn’t know if I’d call myself a serial killer, but… if the shoe fit.

  The Night Slayer. I still couldn’t get over it. I rather liked it. It had a nice ring to it, and it called to mind the Night Stalker—a serial killer who broke into homes and did unspeakable things to so many people a few decades ago.

  I let Dickless lead me out of the club, following him to his fancy black car. Whoever he was, he had money… and that made me pause, but only for a moment. I was confident in my abilities, in my skill. I rotated clubs, so it wasn’t like I went home with guys from the same club. That would make things a little too easy for the police.

  But, money meant home security. It meant cameras. It meant all the things I didn’t have to worry about when the typical Joe Schmoe took me home. Dickless was of another breed, based on his car and how clean it was when I stumbled inside it.

  “Nice car,” I muttered, giving him a sloppy smile.

  Dickless started her up, revving the engine. It was a sleek car, having only two doors and no backseat. He tossed me a smile, saying, “Thanks.” People probably told him that all the time; compliments were something you got used to when you had something everyone else wanted, whether it was a car or a fancy new house.

  As he drove us away from the club, I couldn’t help but wonder where he lived, if he lived nearby or a few miles away. The city was… well, I’d settled here because it seemed there was a lot of crime that went unnoticed and uninvestigated. I didn’t have to tell you why something like that would be good for me.

  I didn’t have to worry about swinging back to the club for a car or anything. I’d walked, kept my head down as I crossed the streets and walked by any storefront. I would’ve taken the bus to the clubs, but buses tended to have cameras, too.

  What would I do when tonight was over, when the dirty deed was done? Let’s just say I always found my way home, so no need to worry about that.

  The scenery changed; instead of clubs, bars, and storefronts that made up main street in this shithole of a town, houses and the like sprouted up. Nice, fancy apartment complexes. I didn’t think I’d ever been brought to this area before, but you know what they say: there was a first time for everything.

  When Dickless made a left turn, I spotted the fancy watch resting on his wrist, having missed it in the club earlier. If it wasn’t clear before, it definitely was now, with the aid of that shiny Rolex: this guy had money and lots of it.

  The possible security at his place aside, that was good. It meant he might have some cash in his wallet. Plus, I’d be snaking that Rolex, too. My rent wasn’t much, mostly because I lived in the second story of a building on top of a bakery, but the old lady I rented from did need something in the form of payment for rent.

  I mean, who the hell had a real job around here? When you went around killing, you made your way however you could.

  Dickless ended up parking his fancy car in a parking garage attached to a ten-story building that looked newly-built. All black stone and windows. When I noticed the security cameras hanging everywhere, I kept my head low, not making eye contact with any of them.

  It really was only a matter of time until my crimes caught up to me, I knew, but still. I was going to have fun while it lasted, goddamn it. Make mommy and daddy’s corpses writhe in their caskets.

  Actually, scratch that. I was pretty sure they were cremated, since they didn’t exactly perspire in a way that would lend to being laid to rest in a casket.

  I clung to Dickless as he led me into the building. Up an elevator we went, and I stared squarely at his chest, refusing to look up at the tiny black camera in the top corner of the elevator. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever been to a building with this much security before, and it was making me nervous.

  Just a little. A wee bit. Like, just enough to be an annoying tick trying to bite me, but not enough to make me stop what I was going to do.

  He kept
his hand on my hip as the elevator doors slid open and we stepped out. I still played the tipsy drunk girl: tripping over my own feet as we walked, giggling when he pulled me closer to him to steady me. Dickless only let me go once we reached his apartment, and that was because he needed to reach into his wallet and pull out the key card to unlock the door.

  Yeah, definitely a fancy ass place. It was a place that I might’ve been, had I stuck to my family’s plan, done what they wanted. But I didn’t. I did the one thing they literally never thought I would: I stood up for myself, and look at where I was now. Look at where they were, deader than a doornail.

  Whoever came up with that phrase must’ve been out of his mind, because it made no sense, but I digress. I tend to get myself off-track sometimes, as you’ll find out.

  Dickless opened the door, and I sauntered in, taking a look around, feigning shock at how nice and fancy it all was. His apartment was huge with tall ceilings, all the good stuff, full of sleek, shiny things. It put the word modern to good use, the kind of apartment you’d see in a movie, almost too clean and slick to be real.

  “Wow,” I muttered, doing a twirl and almost causing myself to trip on my own two feet. “This place is something else.” I gave him a dramatic look as I grinned. “You rich or something?” Didn’t matter in the end, really. When the chips fell, when you got down to it… they died just like everybody else. Full of blood and fear.

  He gave me a smile that was supposed to sweep me off my feet and said, “Something like that.”

  Ooh, cryptic. My favorite kind of answer.

  Note the sarcasm there. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

  My eyes roamed the expansive space that made up the living room area. A huge television rested on the wall near a stone fireplace—gas, since it wasn’t a real fireplace. The windows in the place were tinted black, privacy windows, and they stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The kitchen sat off to the side, an open concept kind of thing, full of marble countertops and painted cabinets with brass-colored handles. The counter was clean, I noted.