Ashes

by Aleatha Romig

Creamy, soft skin, a stark contrast to mine, seduced my body.

  Strength, devotion, and determination stole my heart.

  * * *

  Lorna Pierce completes me in a way I never imagined possible. I’d resigned myself to living the life of a soldier in whatever war I fought. Fate allowed that while simultaneously offering me an adjoining path, one I fought until I couldn’t fight any longer. Enemies died at my feet, and companies were ruined by my knowledge, yet with her, I was the one left gasping for air.

  * * *

  Lorna gave me and others more than a house. Her presence provided us with a home, her smile a safe haven in the eye of a million storms.

  * * *

  Our days multiplied into years, and we never expected the sun to set.

  * * *

  Now that it has, how will we survive?

  How will I?

  * * *

  I’m Reid Murray and I’ll kill without regret to once again dance in the dusk with my wife. This war has only begun. I won’t rest until it’s done.

  * * *

  From New York Times bestselling author comes a brand-new dark romance, DUSK, set in the dangerous world of Sparrow Webs. You do not need to read Web of Sin, Tangled Web, or Web of Desire to get caught up in this new and intriguing saga, Dangerous Web.

  * * *

  DUSK is book one of the DANGEROUS WEB trilogy that continues in DARK and concludes in DAWN.

  Have you been Aleatha’d?

  A peek at SECRETS, book #1 Web of Sin

  Araneae

  PROLOGUE

  My mother’s fingers blanched as she gripped the steering wheel tighter with each turn. The traffic on the interstate seemed to barely move, yet we continued to swerve in, out, and around other cars. From my angle I couldn’t read the speedometer, though I knew we were bordering on reckless driving. I jumped, holding my breath as we pulled in front of the monstrous semi, the blare of a truck’s horn filling our ears. Tons of metal and sixteen wheels screeched as brakes locked behind us, yet my mother’s erratic driving continued.

  “Listen very carefully,” she said, her words muffled by the quagmire of whatever she was about to say, the weight pulling them down as she fluttered her gaze between the road ahead and the rearview mirror.

  “Mom, you’re scaring me.”

  I reached for the handle of the car door and held on as if the seat belt couldn’t keep me safe while she continued to weave from lane to lane.

  “Your father,” she began, “made mistakes, deadly mistakes.”

  My head shook side to side. “No, Dad was a good man. Why would you say that?”

  My father, the man I called Dad for as long as I could remember, was the epitome of everything good: honest and hardworking, a faithful husband, and an omnipresent father.

  He was.

  He died less than a week ago.

  “Listen, child. Don’t interrupt me.” She reached into her purse with one hand while the other gripped tighter to the wheel. Removing an envelope from the depths of the bag, she handed it my direction. “Take this. Inside are your plane tickets. God knows if I could afford to send you away farther than Colorado, I would.”

  My fingers began to tremble as I looked down at the envelope in my grasp. “You’re sending me away?” The words were barely audible as my throat tightened and heaviness weighed down upon my chest. “Mom—”

  Her chin lifted in the way it did when her mind was set. I had a million visions of the times I’d seen her stand up for what she believed. At only five feet three, she was a pit bull in a toy poodle body. That didn’t mean her bark was worse than her bite. No, my mother always followed through. In all things she was a great example of survival and fortitude.

  “When I say your father,” she went on, “I don’t mean my husband—may the Lord rest his soul. Byron was a good man who gave his...everything...for you, for us. He and I have always been honest with you. We wanted you to know that we loved you as our own. God knows that I wanted to give birth. I tried to get pregnant for years. When you were presented to us, we knew you were a gift from heaven.” Her bloodshot eyes—those from crying through the past week since the death of my dad—briefly turned my direction and then back to the highway. “Renee, never doubt that you’re our angel. However, the reality is somewhere darker. The devil has been searching for you. And my greatest fear has always been that he’d find you.”

  The devil?

  My skin peppered with goose bumps as I imagined the biblical creature: male-like with red skin, pointed teeth, and a pitchfork. Surely that wasn’t what she meant?

  Her next words brought me back to reality.

  “I used to wake in a cold sweat, fearing the day had arrived. It’s no longer a nightmare. You’ve been found.”

  “Found? I don’t understand.”

  “Your biological father made a deal against the devil. He thought if he did what was right, he could... well, he could survive. The woman who gave birth to you was my best friend—a long time ago. We hadn’t been in contact for years. She hoped that would secure your safety and keep you hidden. That deal...it didn’t work the way he hoped. Saving themselves was a long shot. Their hope was to save you. That’s how you became our child.”

  It was more information than I’d ever been told. I have always known I was adopted but nothing more. There was a promise of one day. I used to hope for that time to come. With the lead weight in the pit of my stomach, I knew that now that one day had arrived, and I wasn’t ready. I wanted more time.

  The only woman I knew as my mother shook her head just before wiping a tear from her cheek. “I prayed you’d be older before we had this talk, that you would be able to comprehend the gravity of this information. But as I said, things have changed.”

  The writing on the envelope blurred as tears filled my sixteen-year-old eyes. The man I knew as my dad was gone, and now the woman who had raised me was sending me away. “Where are you sending me?”

  “Colorado. There’s a boarding school in the mountains, St. Mary of the Forest. It’s private and elite. They’ll protect you.”

  I couldn’t comprehend. “For how long? What about you? What about my friends? When will I be able to come home?”

  “You’ll stay until you’re eighteen and graduated. And then it will be up to you. There’s no coming back here...ever. This city isn’t home, not anymore. I’m leaving Chicago, too, as soon as I get you out.” Her neck stiffened as she swallowed her tears. “We both have to be brave. I thought at first Byron’s accident was just that—an accident. But then this morning…I knew. Our time is up. They’ll kill me if they find me, just as they did Byron. And Renee...” She looked my way, her gray eyes swirling with emotion. While I’d expect sadness, it was fear that dominated. “…my fate would be easy compared to yours.”

  She cleared her throat, pretending that tears weren’t cascading down her pale cheeks.

  “Honey, these people are dangerous. They don’t mess around, and they don’t play fair. We don’t know how, but they found you, and your dad paid the price. I will forever believe that he died to protect you. That’s why we have this small window of time. I want you to know that if necessary, I’ll do the same. The thing is, my death won’t stop them. And no matter what, I won’t hand you over.”

  “Hand me over?”

  We swerved again, barreling down an exit until Mom slammed on her brakes, leaving us in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Her gaze again went to the rearview mirror.

  “Are we being followed?” I asked.

  Instead of answering, she continued her instructions. “In that envelope is information for your new identity, a trust fund, and where you’ll be living. Your dad and I had this backup plan waiting. We hoped we’d never have to use it, but he insisted on being prepared.” Her gaze went upward. “Thank you, Byron. You’re still watching over us from heaven.”

  Slowly, I peeled back the envelope’s flap and pulled out two Colorado driver’s licenses. They both contained my picture—that wa
s the only recognizable part. The name, address, and even birth dates were different. “Kennedy Hawkins,” I said, the fictitious name thick on my tongue.

  “Why are there two?”

  “Look at the dates. Use the one that makes you eighteen years old for this flight. It’s to ensure the airline will allow you to fly unaccompanied. Once you’re in Colorado, destroy the one with the added two years. The school needs your real age for your grade in school.”

  I stared down at one and then the other. The name was the same. I repeated it again, “Kennedy Hawkins.”

  “Learn it. Live it. Become Kennedy.”

  A never-before-thought-of question came to my mind. “Did I have a different name before I came to you?”

  My mother’s eyes widened as her pallid complexion changed from white to gray. “It’s better if you don’t know.”

  I sat taller in the seat, mimicking the strength she’d shown me all of my life. “You’re sending me away. You’re saying we may never see one another again. This is my only chance. I think I deserve to be told everything.”

  “Not everything.” She blinked rapidly. “About your name, your dad and I decided to alter your birth name, not change it completely. You were very young, and we hoped having a derivation of what you’d heard would help make the transition easier. Of course, we gave you our last name.”

  “My real name isn’t Renee? What is it?”

  “Araneae.”

  The syllables played on repeat in my head, bringing back memories I couldn’t catch. “I’ve heard that before, but not as a name.”

  She nodded. “I always thought it was ironic how you loved insects. Your name means spider. Your birth mother thought it gave you strength, a hard outer shell, and the ability to spin silk, beautiful and strong.”

  “Araneae,” I repeated aloud.

  Her stern stare turned my way. “Forget that name. Forget Araneae and Renee. We were wrong to allow you any connection. Embrace Kennedy.”

  My heart beat rapidly in my chest as I examined all of the paperwork. My parents, the ones I knew, were thorough in their plan B. I had a birth certificate, a Social Security card, a passport matching the more accurate age, and the driver’s license that I’d seen earlier, all with my most recent school picture. According to the documentation, my parents’ names were Phillip and Debbie Hawkins. The perfect boring family. Boring or exciting, family was something I would never have again.

  “And what happened to Phillip and Debbie?” I asked as if any of this made sense.

  “They died in an automobile accident. Their life insurance funded your trust fund. You are an only child.”

  The car crept forward in the line of traffic near the departure terminal of O’Hare Airport. A million questions swirled through my head, and yet I struggled to voice even one. I reached out to my mother’s arm. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “I’ll always be with you, always.”

  “How will we talk?”

  She lifted her fist to her chest. “In here. Listen to your heart.”

  Pulling to the curb and placing the car in park, she leaned my direction and wrapped me in her arms. The familiar scent of lotions and perfumes comforted me as much as her hug. “Know you’re loved. Never forget that, Kennedy.”

  I swallowed back the tears brought on by her calling me by the unfamiliar name.

  She reached for her wrist and unclasped the bracelet she always wore. “I want you to have this.”

  I shook my head. “Mom, I never remember seeing you without it.”

  “It’s very important. I’ve protected it as I have you. Now, I’m giving it to you.” She forced a smile. “Maybe it will remind you of me.”

  “Mom, I’d never forget you.” I looked down to the gold bracelet in the palm of my hand as my mom picked it up, the small charms dangling as she secured it around my wrist.

  “Now, it’s time for you to go.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You do. Go to the counter for the airlines. Hand them your ticket and the correct identification. Stay strong.”

  “What about those people?” I asked. “Who are they? Will you be safe?”

  “I’ll worry about me once I’m sure that you’re safe.”

  “I don’t even know who they are.”

  Her gaze moved from me to the world beyond the windshield. For what seemed like hours, she stared as the slight glint of sunshine reflected on the frost-covered January ground. Snow spit through the air, blowing in waves. Finally, she spoke, “Never repeat the name.”

  “What name?”

  “Swear it,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

  It was almost too much. I nodded.

  “No. I need to hear you promise me. This name can never be spoken aloud.”

  “I swear,” I said.

  “Sparrow, Allister Sparrow. He’s currently in charge, but one day it will be his son, Sterling.”

  I wished for a pen to write the names down; however, from the way they sent a chill down my spine, I was most certain that I’d never forget.

  WEB OF SIN is completely available: SECRETS, LIES, and PROMISES.

  A peek at TWISTED, book #1 of the Tangled Web Trilogy

  Kader

  The conference hall shimmered with the light from the oversized chandeliers. The atmosphere was set, the enticement dangling like a baited hook, and the gullible fish swimming about, ready to open wide while the sharks lurked in the depths.

  I didn’t belong here, that sentiment as obvious to me as to the others in my presence.

  I wasn’t an eager fish, willing to follow the school wherever the masses led.

  Extending the analogy, I also wasn’t a fisherman.

  I was a hunter, standing motionless in knee-deep water, spear in hand, ready for the kill. Bring on the sharks. I was ready for them to show me their rows of teeth.

  Dressing in a custom suit, shaving my face, and taming my hair didn’t hide the truth beneath. All around me, the prey sensed the danger. A formal announcement of my presence or boast of my wealth, power, and abilities wasn’t necessary. As one who truly possessed all three, the declaration preceded me, coming in silent waves radiating through the air and transmitted wordlessly.

  One by one, fellow attendees moved about me, glasses of champagne in hand and their eyes averted, unable or unwilling to meet my gaze. Their only outward acknowledgments that they’d had an encounter with me were their whispers and mumbles as they uttered meaningless apologies under their breath.

  “Excuse me.”

  “Sorry.”

  I didn’t respond. There was no need to leave memories of my attendance other than a passing shadow.

  The suit I’d worn was meant to allow me to fade into the crowd. In reality it showcased the gaping difference. My custom designer original was crème brûlée amongst a tray of Twinkies—lobster amid fast food.

  Many of the people in this banquet hall were here to add their names to research, research few of them came close to understanding. Their riches were primarily on paper, their names listed in Forbes magazine for the world to lay prostrate at their feet. The truly wealthy didn’t require a magazine to substantiate their worth. With our riches spread throughout the world, we did our best to keep its presence beneath the radar.

  Scanning the faces of the invited guests, their attempts of deception and pretense were as clear as a neon sign. This room was filled with impostors consumed by the need to fulfill their lackluster lives—lives devoid of true accomplishment—with the praises of those their money can buy.

  Money—in most cases it wasn’t an asset but the expandable depth of their credit.

  Acknowledgments.

  Recognition.

  Their names on a plaque.

  I had no more desire to fit in with these imitations of wealth than to dine on the cheap catering being offered or consume the basement-bottom bourbon in my hand.

  Fitting in wasn’t my thing or my goal.

 
I was here for one reason.

  An assignment.

  A job I agreed to fulfill.

  Offers came and went.

  I only took the assignments I wanted.

  The decision was always mine.

  I worked for no man but myself, on my schedule, as I saw fit.

  My work had made me a wealthy man, taking me into the shadows and leaving me in the dark. Rarely did I accept an offer that brought me into the light.

  However, even I could make an exception.

  There was something about this assignment, this target...something that superseded my usual rules. I didn’t need the money. I could spend the rest of my life hidden away on my ranch or sailing the seven seas. I vastly preferred my own company to those currently in my presence.

  The door near the back of the room opened as more guests arrived.

  I stood taller, taking her in.

  She had arrived.

  My exception.

  She was the reason I was here.

  At the sight of her, the small hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. It was as if she was electricity and I was the rod. My reaction was visceral, much as it had been the first time I’d seen her.

  The first time wasn’t in person. It was her likeness that appeared on my computer screen and inexplicably, I was mesmerized. Her blue eyes stared at the camera, staring at me through the screen—seeing me in a way that even I was incapable of doing.

  That thought was ludicrous and I knew it. Nevertheless, I was drawn.

  As she accepted a glass of champagne, her head turned my direction. Instinctively, I took a step back, away from her gaze and into the shadows. I wasn’t ready to meet those blue eyes in person, not yet. From the distance, I watched as I took in each inch of her.