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

by Candace Wondrak

He wouldn’t come over, preferring to stand creepily near the archway to the hall.

  Heaving a sigh, I got up, moving around the piano. “Come on, big guy,” I said, smiling as I walked up to him, “you know I won’t let this go until you come on over.” I slipped an arm through his, his body immediately tensing at my nearness, and I held in a chuckle as I started to drag him to the piano. Of course, I couldn’t drag a man who was more like a tree if he didn’t want to come, but still. He was well over six feet tall and built like a mountain, literally. I kind of felt like a child standing next to him.

  I sat him down on the bench, squeezing in beside him. The sides of our legs touched, but it couldn’t be helped. The bench was not really big enough for two people to sit on comfortably. I reached for his hands, but he jerked them away from me, as if I had the plague.

  Giving him a wry look, I said, “I’m just telling you where to put your fingers.” It wasn’t like I was taking those hands and running them all over my body; he might like that, but he’d never admit to it out loud, I don’t think. Mike kept his feelings close to his chest.

  You know who didn’t keep his feelings close to his chest? Sylvester. The looks he gave me now… I didn’t know what to make of them. Lingering, longing, lustful; a bit of everything rolled into one. He’d spoken to his father; I’d been right in assuming the guy on the third floor, wearing a suit and glaring down at me that night had been Daddy Luciano.

  I didn’t think he was thrilled with hearing how well I did, but at the same time, what the fuck did he expect? I was the fucking Night Slayer, you know? Basically a serial killer, I think, so give me some credit, please.

  Maddox was still MIA, and it’d been a few days. I’d asked Sylvester about it, but he told me not to worry about his brother, that Maddox could take care of himself. I was well aware that he was a big boy, but still, with how upset everyone had gotten by me killing Dickless, you’d think they’d be more worried about their missing chosen one.

  But who was I to worry about any of them? I was only Lola.

  I set Mike’s pointer finger on the correct key, then leaned over him and took his right hand. His hands were rough, like he did a lot more dirty work, and that was something I could honestly believe. Once two fingers on his other hand were on the correct keys, I said, “You hit this one twice—” I tapped his left hand. “—then these two at the same time twice.” I pointed to his other. “Then you move down two with each hand—”

  It was not easy to explain how to play Heart and Soul on the piano to a newbie, but after a few mess-ups, Mike actually got it right. His melody was the background music, while my fingers played the rest.

  “When you reach the end, just go back to the beginning,” I told him, slowing my speed to watch him fumble a bit.

  Mike was cute. A big lumberjack of a guy, but cute nonetheless. And, surprisingly, he caught on fast.

  As we played, I chuckled. “You know, if I’m still around near Christmas, you have your Christmas party entertainment. I know all of the songs. I could sing, too.” I saw Mike look at me, his playing faltering as he did so, and I wondered if that came as a shock to him. If he thought I was just some pretty face with a killer instinct whose body was only capable of taking dick. The expression on his face was too much, and I found myself saying, “What? Is it that shocking to you that I know how to do this stuff?”

  Someone else walked into the room, his hands shoved in his pockets. Tony waltzed in, his face brightening when he saw us. He meandered to the piano’s front, leaning on it as he said, “Big Mike, I didn’t know you could play the piano.” He was teasing him, and it was enough to make Mike scowl and tear his hands off the ivory keys and get up.

  I let him go, knowing it would be pointless to try to get him back. Instead, as Mike walked away to the corner of the room, back to being my stoic bodyguard, I turned my icy blue eyes to Tony. I liked Tony well enough; that day I’d nearly hopped on his dick was still bright in my mind, but I didn’t know him that well, not like I knew the others.

  Tony, for all intents and purposes, was a bit of an enigma to me, and I was not happy with how he’d made fun of Mike just now.

  “Why’d you have to go and poke fun?” I whined. “Now I have no one to play with.” It wasn’t as if I needed someone to play with; it was just more fun that way.

  He pushed off the piano, moving to take Mike’s place beside me. He fit a lot better on the bench next to me; I didn’t feel like his body was pushing me off like I did with Mike’s. His green eyes turned to me, his light brown hair combed back. A sly smile grew on his face as he checked me out from his new vantage point inches away.

  “How else was I supposed to get his ass out of here so I could sit next to you?” he asked, his voice nothing but a whisper. His flirty tone was more than a little obvious, and the way he checked me out, as if I was the finest drink of water he’d ever seen, like he was a man dying of thirst, gave me certain ideas.

  I didn’t know whether he was serious or not, and I supposed it didn’t matter much. I was not going to let any real feelings get in the way of living it up while I was here, while I was still alive. Whatever happened, I would be ready for it, but until then I would be whatever, whoever they needed me to be.

  “Can you play at all?” I asked, leaning my shoulder into his. My nose picked up the scent of his cologne, and I breathed it in. I couldn’t say what it was, but it smelled good. Tony was probably a good eight or so years older than me, and though he wasn’t as tall or as muscular as the others, there was still something about him I found alluring.

  Eh, maybe it was just the fact he was associated with the Lucianos, part of their crime family, or whatever the fuck it was called.

  Or maybe I was just a fucking slut like Maddox had said. Who cared?

  “Would it surprise you to know I can?” Tony asked, arching a single brow as he grinned at me, his smile so much sweeter than Maddox’s or even Sylvester’s. He reminded me of the quiet, nice boys in high school, the ones girls never paid enough attention to because they were always chasing after the bad boys.

  Me? I was past chasing a certain type. I was way past chasing anyone at all. Now, I liked to sample a bit of everything, just to make sure I wasn’t missing a great flavor, if you know what I mean. Like, take me to a fucking man buffet, and I’d savior some of it all.

  “Honestly,” I started, “nothing surprises me anymore.” When you realized you couldn’t count on the people you were supposed to be able to depend on for your whole life, when you stared darkness itself in the eyes, why would a strange skill surprise me?

  “I guess I’ll just have to play you a song,” Tony spoke with a shrug of his shoulders. “Any requests?”

  I shook my head. “You choose.”

  And so he did. Within the next moment, his fingers got to work, and I watched him with a smile on my face. The melody was familiar, but it still took me a while to recognize it. When I did, when my mind finally came upon the song Tony was playing, I began to hum along. After all, who didn’t know Billy Joel’s Piano Man?

  Not what I would’ve chosen to play, but then again, I did tell him it was up to him to decide.

  I have been told in the past I have an eclectic taste in music though, so maybe it was me. Tony seemed shocked that I was humming along, and the dimpled grin that spread across his face gave me butterflies I’d rather not feel.

  Tony’s fingers trailed off, and I stopped my humming to meet his stare. “You told Big Mike you could sing,” he whispered, suddenly serious. So very serious it hurt. “Would you?” I said nothing, which caused him to say, “Would you sing for me?”

  Joking about singing at the Luciano’s Christmas party and actually singing were two totally different things, and frankly I didn’t think I could. I didn’t want to. Singing was… it was raw and it was real, so much more real than the girl I’d been playing at lately. Singing called to a time when things should’ve been simpler, but they weren’t. It reminded me of times long past, tim
es I didn’t want to remember.

  There were so many things in this world I wished I could forget. Maybe if I did, I’d be normal and not crazy Lola, the Night Slayer. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.

  Tony must’ve noticed my unwillingness to do it, for he took his hands off the keys and set them on his lap, saying, “It’s okay. Never mind. I just wanted to know if your singing voice sounded as good as your humming.” He’d meant the last part as a compliment, I knew. It looked as if he wanted to say more, but right then Sylvester strolled in, cutting him off by what he said next.

  “Maddox still isn’t back,” Sylvester said, cracking his neck as he glanced between Mike and Tony—and me, as much as I hated to admit it. He stared at me the longest. His torso was covered in a white button-down shirt, no tie for once, though he still wore nice slacks on his legs. I didn’t think he was ever the type to wear jeans.

  Tony shrugged. “So? He’s off doing whatever it is he does when he disappears. This isn’t the first time he’s gone off on his own.” He did not get up off the bench we sat on, but I could feel his body tense beside mine.

  “I know, but after what happened to Mario…” Sylvester paused, and I felt all of the eyes in the room turn toward me, as if I—no, wait a moment, I was the reason he was dead. Right. Carry on. “My father wants him home.”

  “We know his stomping grounds,” Tony said. “Surely we can find him.”

  Nodding once, Sylvester said, “I hope you’re right.”

  “Well,” Tony spoke as he got up, grinning, “we have the Night Slayer here, so at least we know it isn’t her.” His remark earned him a scowl from the other two men in the room, and he quickly added, “Right, still way too soon. Sorry.” He moved around the piano, disappearing into the hall.

  Sylvester turned those blue eyes to me, expectant, and I could only blink and ask, “What?”

  “Get up,” he told me. “Get dressed. We don’t have all day.” He said nothing more, giving me his back as he vanished.

  I said nothing, shocked. I didn’t know why I was shocked to be going, but I was. I guess this was my second job with the family? Finding Maddox, the older brother who made himself scarce when he was brooding and not getting his way—meaning, not killing me or torturing me. I get why he was so upset, but disappearing for days was a bit much, wasn’t it?

  Slow to get up, I headed around the piano, meeting Mike’s stern gaze. “I guess we’re going hunting,” I said, grinning.

  Was it just me, or did I see a twitch of a smile on Mike’s face at that?

  Hours passed, and our hunt had, so far, been unsuccessful. We’d gone to the bars where Maddox supposedly frequented; since it had been early afternoon when we’d begun, it wasn’t quite time for the clubs to be open yet. Had to wait for nightfall for those, but once night graced this filthy, miserable city, we started checking them out, too.

  I’d changed into tight pants that showed off my ass and a low-cut shirt that put my tits on display. Going into bars and clubs, I had to look the part, like I belonged there. My outfit caused both Tony and Sylvester to stare at me a bit more than they should’ve; there was a time, not too long ago, when I would’ve enjoyed having such power over them.

  Tonight? Tonight, for whatever reason, I didn’t. I just… I just didn’t. I didn’t feel quite right, but I put on a brave face and powered on, doing my best to help the guys search for their missing Maddox.

  Apparently there were bars and clubs in this city that were known Luciano hubs, just as there were ones that the Lucianos steered clear from, because of their patrons. The DeLucas had their places, and the Lucianos had theirs. I had no idea why the families hated each other so much, and I did wonder if I would ever meet an infamous DeLuca.

  The club we’d just walked into had multiple floors. It was big and mostly dark, save for the dance floor, which took up most of the first floor. Strobe lights and the DJ’s stage were nearby, along with huge speakers that pumped out music. The bar was also on the first floor, a long, almost free-standing thing, its countertops made of mirrors.

  Upstairs, from what I could see, there were tables and more private areas.

  We’d just walked in, and Sylvester had told us to split up to search for Maddox, heading off to check the upstairs. The music pumped through my body, my lungs and heart shaking with the beat due to its loudness, and I turned my head toward the mass of dancing bodies.

  Tony was beside me then, saying, “Let’s dance.”

  I whipped my head around, shooting him a look. Beside us, Mike was silent, though he did glare at Tony. After all, we hadn’t come here to dance; we’d come here to look for Maddox, the Luciano who’d pulled a disappearing act.

  Still, Maddox was a big boy. Surely he could wait for one song, wherever he was?

  A grin spread across my face as I reached out to take Tony’s hand, leading him to the grinding horde of bodies on the dance floor. Most of the girls wore a lot less than I did, their hair done, their makeup looking fine. The men paid no attention to anyone else, only their dancing partner, only the girls who were currently grinding on their dicks through their clothes. Everyone was sweaty; everyone glistened under the strobing lights.

  Mike didn’t stop us, so I assumed it would be fine for Tony and me to dance a bit. I pulled him past the people standing on the outside of the crowd; those people were the ones who danced to the beat of their own drum and not the music thrumming through the speakers. You had to get in the crowd, feel the heat and lust in the air.

  Clubs had been a primary hunting ground for me lately, but I’d never been to this one. This city, apparently, had a lot of them. Go figure.

  Once we were in the middle of the dancers, I turned around to Tony, starting to sway my body with the fast-paced beat. This was no high school dance; there were no slow songs played here. Only remixes, the songs that had beats you could rock your hips to. His hands found my sides, holding my front tightly against his.

  We swayed with the music, with the quick beat, and it didn’t take long for me to start to feel something moving around in his pants. His cock, I meant. Getting hard just dancing with me, though I couldn’t blame him. His hands had snaked around to my ass, and he had a nice view of my chest from where he was.

  It was a minute before Tony leaned his head down, his lips near my ear as he said, “Is this how you seduced Mario?”

  Ugh, why the fuck did everyone keep bringing him up? Way to ruin a nice dance, thank you very much. It wasn’t like I took great pleasure in reliving that particular night over and over again. Yes, I’d killed him. Yes, I understood they were upset about it because he was the youngest Luciano son. But, like, you know… get the fuck over it or just kill me. It wasn’t a hard concept to grasp.

  My jaw ground, and I set my hands on his shoulders, holding onto him tightly, not saying anything at first. Tony was probably the shortest guy in the group I’d met, though he was still a few inches taller than me. He also didn’t have any tattoos, none that I’d seen—although I hadn’t seen him naked, so I supposed I couldn’t be totally sure of that.

  “You got him hard,” Tony went on, “and then you went home with him?”

  Everyone was so interested in how the Night Slayer worked; maybe one of these days I’d give them a demonstration. It really wasn’t difficult to understand. I didn’t stalk my prey. I let them come to me. I let them show their true colors. I would never have gone home with a proverbial nice guy, because a true nice guy never would’ve taken me home to begin with. They would’ve seen how inebriated I was pretending to be and maybe taken the chance to make sure I got home safely.

  But there weren’t many nice guys left these days, society having bred a generation of assholes and entitled pricks, just like…

  Just like him.

  And because my mind liked to play tricks on me, because I could not trust even myself, the next time I looked at Tony’s face, I didn’t see Tony’s clean jaw or his pretty green eyes. I didn’t see his brown hair. I saw the one
person I never wanted to see again, the person who’d helped make me into the monster I was today.

  I saw the face that haunted my nightmares, the face that seemed to follow me anywhere I went. The face I wished so desperately to forget, but the one face I never could. There were certain things you never forgot in this life, and what happened to me… it was one of them.

  My lungs burned, and I turned away from Tony, releasing my hold on him as I spun around and gave him my back, hoping he’d shut up about it all. He might not have my tits to stare at, but he’d have my ass to grind on, to rub that erection against. Better than nothing, right?

  But the feeling that had started as nothing but a kernel inside my stomach spiraled, growing and expanding until it was all I could feel, all I could think about. My mind was not my friend; it was an enemy, and I was in a state of constant war with it. My skin turned cold and clammy, even though I was surrounded by people dancing, even though the air around us was hot and thick with sweat and sex.

  A lump formed in my throat, and as I felt Tony’s hands hold onto my sides, I knew I wouldn’t be able to speak. The power of voice had been lost to me, just like that, and I was no better than the girl I used to be.

  Who was I? Who was Lola Harding?

  She was an angel born to a rich family, a girl who should’ve had the world at her fingertips. She was innocent and naive, trusting. She thought she could depend on the ones around her, on her family to protect her, to keep her safe from the world and its ugly horrors. But they didn’t. They didn’t keep her safe; oh, no. They did the opposite.

  They let it happen.

  They let it happen again and again and again until she wanted to die.

  I wanted to die.

  All the people around, the strangers dancing, blissfully unaware of how suffocated I felt. How much I wanted to give the world a middle finger or two and just give up. Surely things would be easier if I ceased to be? After all, Lola Harding, the quiet little angel who never spoke up, she was dead.

  If she was dead, why couldn’t I be dead, too?