Catalyst: Book 2 of The Dark Paradise Trilogy

by Isadora Brown

  She had to make it right.

  His smile deepened upon seeing her odd reaction, but took it as a good sign when she didn’t berate him from touching her, from watching her. How could he not, when she looked the way she did. God, she was beautiful, and she was in the palm of his hand again. Her skin had never felt softer, her eyes had never looked greener. Why had she pushed him away?

  He knew. He knew she thought she was doing him a favor, since he also knew he would never be able to do walk away from her. But who were they kidding. Life was so much more worthwhile being together. Especially his life, since he had never technically been human before transitioning to Heaven. Yet, she gave him the desire to want to be one, even though they were weak and ignorant about what was true, about what life really meant, about what awaited them when their soul had concluded their journey on this earth.

  When his father first sent him here as a punishment for being arrogant and reckless as a prince in one of the many kingdoms of Heaven, he rebelled and fought and refused. But after time passed, he realized Onyx needed him, that he was making a difference in people’s lives, whether positively or negatively. Instead of shirking from responsibility and being dependent, he vowed to be the best guardian he could be. When War between angels and demons began to stir, he was even more determined to protect his city, especially after he met Andie.

  Jack was familiar with the concept of love. With his parents being together for forever, literally, he couldn’t escape its true meaning. But that didn’t necessarily mean he believed he would ever experience it for himself. And then it hit him, like the wind during flight, like Andie’s water that first day. She had him wrapped around her finger and she didn’t even know it. He was in love, a goner, and Heaven didn’t seem as perfect as it had been because he knew she wouldn’t be there. Not yet. Not for a long time, he hoped. And if she wasn’t there, why would he want to be? He would stay as guardian of Onyx, in a relatively degrading position among angels, especially for royals, if he had to, if it meant breathing the same air she did. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let her go. And that was especially so, what with Noir and Satan here, trying to corrupt this particular set of humans. Noir already had Keirah, for whatever reason; there was no way anyone would take Andie from him.

  “Beverly told me what happened,” he continued, needing to say something, needing to hear her voice. He needed to make sure this was real, that he wouldn’t wake up after a spell like he had the month before.

  “I tried calling,” she explained, her face turning red.

  “I got your message,” he said through a chuckle. “I’m sorry that you took it that way. You know it wasn’t what I intended, right?”

  She looked down at the crimson-colored Egyptian cotton sheets. “I know,” she agreed, “but …” She pulled her eyes up and forced herself to look at him. She should tell him she was sorry. She should tell him she wanted to put the whole thing behind them and be happy and together and the like. But then her words came back to her, the ones she left on his voicemail. The ones that reminded him she wasn’t supposed to need him anymore, that he shouldn’t continue to save her because she needed to do things on her own, that she wanted to be taken seriously.

  And she was certain that wouldn’t happen if they were together.

  That doesn’t matter, a voice insisted. You love him. He loves you. You should be together. What’s stopping you? Your internship? What does that mean in the grand scheme of things?

  She should tell him everything; she was going to, she even opened her mouth to speak but—

  “Andie, we need to talk about your sister.”

  There it was. The only thing that could stop her. Her sister. And if anyone would know anything about it, it would be him. Jack Phillip. The Black Wing.

  “Is she okay?” She sounded hopeful and yet … There was something in her voice that sounded like doubt. Not doubt in terms of Keirah’s well-being, but doubt about Keirah’s well-being threatened in the first place.

  “She’s gone, Andie,” he told her. He sounded tentative, as though he was being cautious because he wasn’t sure how she would react to the news. “Noir got her. Again.”

  She should have known. All the signs were right there: Commissioner Jarrett’s presence, his worry about her safety … How could this have happened? Why would someone assign her to an internship where the very guy who kidnapped her was staying for that kidnapping? She was a sitting duck, and he never missed a target. Her heart clenched, but her stomach turned with confliction; she knew, somehow she knew.

  So why didn’t the worry come? Why wasn’t she afraid for her sister’s life? Her only sister was in the clutches of Onyx's resident terrorist and all she could do was blink once, twice. Her breathing wasn't even affected by the news.

  "There's something else." He paused, studying her face. Jack had always been decent at reading body language, but for the life of him, he couldn't tell what she was thinking behind her stoic face. Was she holding her breath, her thoughts filling her mind with the worst case scenario? Or was she completely calm, numbing her mind until she was given a reason to react? It didn't matter. He knew he had to tell her. He just hoped when the words left his mouth, they came out the right way. "Your sister, she ..." He stopped, hesitating once more.

  "Just say it," she said, her tone a ghost of a whisper. Her pale green eyes were focused on the wall over his shoulder, but he knew she wasn't looking at anything in particular. She was bracing herself for something she already knew, he realized. She just needed someone to say it in order to make it real.

  "The surveillance recording of Underwood Mental Institution showed that Keirah left voluntarily," he said, making sure to leave his eyes on her face in case she needed to look at him, in case she needed his support. "I went to her place to check on her after word got out that he escaped." He didn't need to tell her either that he went as his alter-ego, hiding among the shadows so no one—not even the perceptive Commissioner Jarrett—noticed him. It helped that he could fly as silent as a baby's sigh on top of that. "I watched him leave with her."

  "Why wouldn't you stop her?" she asked before she could stop herself. Her brow furrowed, and she shifted her eyes back to Jack. "If you saw them leaving together, why wouldn't you stop her?"

  "Because it looked like she wanted to leave, Andie," he said, his voice both gentle and firm. "You know what I'm talking about, too. That's why you're not wrought with worry. She left; not because she was forced to, but because she wanted to. I'm not her father, her brother, anyone who can stop her from leaving if that's what she wants. She's a grown adult. She can do what she wants. But with those choices come consequences that she will have to face."

  "What can I do?" Andie asked. She searched his eyes, but she didn't know what for. An answer, a sign, a glimmer of something she could hold on to.

  "Nothing." He hadn't meant to sound blunt, but there was no way to sugarcoat this. And he knew that Andie would appreciate his directness. "It's her life, And. All we can do is let her live it and hope, that when it came down to it, she'll make the right choice."

  Andie nodded once, twice, nibbling on the inside of her bottom lip. She knew he was right. Keirah was an adult, and as much as she wanted to, she couldn't control her sister's actions. But she knew, somehow, deep down, that Keirah's new definition of right and wrong didn't align with Andie's definition of the words. It was like she had already lost Keirah to someone and Andie never got the chance to fight for her. And if Keirah was really lost, could she be found again?

  "Andie," Jack murmured, trying to bring her back from whatever depths her thoughts had dragged her under. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

  "You've already done so much," she said, surprised he would even ask her that. "I know it's not an ideal situation, having me here, but you didn't even hesitate."

  "I never hesitate when it comes to you," he said in that voice, that low raspy voice that had no trouble giving her goose bumps, "because you are the ideal."

&nbs
p; "Jack, you do more for me than you'll ever know," she told him, hoping the sincerity was obvious in her voice. She wasn't prepared for the turn of the conversation, and her heart squeezed at the lack of warning and the flood of feeling that came rushing through her because of the man in front of her.

  "I'm always going to be here for you, And," he promised, "whether you want me or not, I'll always be around."

  "I always want you around," she said, her tongue having much more power than her mind because, certainly, she would never say something so vulnerable to Jack Phillip. "Even if my voicemail led you to believe otherwise."

  He cracked a smile at the comment. "So I heard you met Grayson Pierce outside the party last night," he said, hoping his voice wasn't as curious as his words were. She nodded but didn't elaborate, her eyes once again elsewhere, this time on the window, fixated on something outside. He felt the scent of desperation permeate his nostrils when he asked, "So what do you think of him?"

  Andie shrugged. "I only had a five minute conversation with the guy," she said. "Besides the fact that he dresses sharp, I don't really know anything about him." She furrowed her brow. "I mean, other than the obvious annoyance he has with you. He was the reason I left you that voicemail, Jack. He insinuated that you were the reason why I got that internship. I know he wasn't far from the truth, either, and he has a right to feel that maybe I'm not totally qualified for the internship on my own merits, but still... Something happened between the two of you, didn't it?"

  Now it was Jack's turn to shrug, and he did it in such a self-deprecating way. "Let's just say that Grayson and I go way back," he said, arrogance tainting his tone. "My parents have always been in the public, always have had wealth, whereas Grayson had to work for his. You can't help the family you're born into, but Grayson holds it against me. He's insignificant."

  "He's my boss now," Andie said with a small smile. "And he knows how close we were, so I'm probably going to be at the top of his shit list. Thanks for that."

  “Hey, no problem.” He gave her that cynical smile, the same one that caused her heart to change her mind about him, that caused her mind to put down the defenses, that caused her to fully fall in love with him.

  There was a slight pause in their conversation, and Andie couldn’t decipher if it was awkward or not. For whatever reason, she held her breath waiting, but like usual, she wasn’t sure what she was waiting for.

  “Andie …”

  It was her name on his lips. It always was. Her eyes closed on their own accord and she leaned toward him. The act was open and vulnerable and completely unlike her, yet she didn’t snap back to attention. She lingered there, waiting for him to continue with whatever it was he was going to tell her. Not that it mattered. Nothing did, when he said her name the way he did. It was as though her name was made for his lips because no one said it the way he did, and she didn’t react the same to anyone else.

  “You can stay here for …” Ever. He wanted to say it, wanted to make her promise she would never leave.

  What happened to them? Why was he hesitating now?

  “For as long as you need,” he continued. Her eyes blinked, a telltale flinch, and he hated himself for it. But she had just as much opportunity to fix this as he did, and she wasn’t saying anything either. Maybe she didn’t want to fix it, at least not right now. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

  The only one welcomed in his heart, preoccupying his mind. The only one welcome to who he was and what he stood for.

  “Thank you.”

  When had the conversation sounded rehearsed? When did she start saying what she knew she was supposed to say, rather than what she wanted to say?

  What happened to them? Why were things so tense? Why wasn’t she doing anything to change this? Why was she so scared?

  It was only Jack Phillip, her former boss; the charming, rich, intelligent, douchey, and absolutely lovely CEO of his own company. It was only the guy she was in love with. No big deal.

  13

  She felt him leave the next morning. He didn’t kiss the top of her head or whisper sweet endearments to her about how happy he was to have her back. She had never expected him to. Instead, he merely stared at her for a good portion of time before slipping out of bed, throwing on his clothes that had been scattered across the floor, and exiting the room.

  Keirah idly wondered where he went and when he would be back. Not for a while, she knew. She would have the mansion to herself for nearly the entire day, or at least, that’s what would happen before he had been caught. She didn’t expect that would change now.

  Keirah continued to keep her eyes closed and her body nude as she turned to the other side. If Noir was still here, she would be facing him. Instead, she inhaled his scent, the only thing of him that he left behind. It gave her a great deal of comfort to have it completely surround her body.

  She still loved him. She was more than certain of that now. And she had missed him beyond repair. It was odd; one didn’t exactly realize how they feel about someone until they are reunited after a long separation. But then again, maybe she had always realized it and had pushed her feelings for him to a place where she wouldn’t look but would know where to find them if she needed them again.

  Last night was …

  Keirah turned again so she was on her back and opened her eyes slightly as she smiled up at the ceiling.

  Even more than satisfying. Of course, such a thing didn’t come as a surprise to her. She had known he was quite skillful when it came to how he performed such physical tasks. Her pain—should he choose to inflict it on her—would turn to pleasure, just as it had last night. And she wanted more from him; she always did.

  It was rare for them to make love compared to fucking, sex, and other forms of the word, but Noir would engage in such intimacy on occasion. Keirah knew that even he had a desire to be close to someone, and sex was a way for him to reveal his feelings without actually saying anything. And when they did make love, it was even more pleasurable than any other form of the art because he wasn’t hiding himself from her.

  She yawned and decided to get out of bed. Her stomach was rumbling and she had a sudden desire for tea.

  Keirah hadn’t always felt comfortable with her nude body. She was skinny, willowy, and other sympathetic adjectives people tossed at her to describe her body. If people wanted to be cruel, they might say she had a boy’s body: flat chested, lacked curves, as narrow as a board, and the like. And yet, after meeting Noir, she had never felt more beautiful, more desirable. The feeling was surprisingly liberating.

  Since she wasn’t leaving the mansion any time soon, she decided on a pair of grey sweatpants and one of Noir’s red flannel shirts that he had made himself. He had paired the red with black and green, causing her to smile as she slid it over her body. It caused her to remember one of the first conversations with him, when they were talking about their favorite colors.

  And look how far they had come.

  Keirah left her feet bare and headed out of the room, not particularly caring about the fact that her hair was a mess and her teeth were still unbrushed. She had yet to eat breakfast, and when she actually finished with the food, she would think about looking presentable.

  She found herself marveling at the structure of the mansion as she descended down the wooden staircase. She wondered if all the money they had had in their seedy apartment paid for this. Had the police even found the thing? Were his henchmen that loyal when they heard that their boss had just been arrested?

  Probably not, but Noir was really that intimidating.

  She smiled to herself once on the second floor, and paused as she passed a hall of mirrors. Turning slightly, she examined her face, her main focus, the J on her cheek. Surprisingly, she saw no bruises on her skin, though fingerprints created a literal choker necklace around her neck. The J itself was dried and crusted, and Keirah had to remind herself that it was necessary to clean it in order to make sure it wouldn’t get infected in the future
. Everything else looked normal.

  Everything felt right.

  When she finally made it to the first floor, she was surprised to see a couple of Noir’s henchmen hanging around in the kitchen. It had to be just past seven in the morning and one was already drinking a beer. That couldn’t be a good sign.

  However, she continued to walk into the vast room, avoiding eye contact but offering them a friendly smile. What else could she do?

  Her feet led her straight to the refrigerator where she found a used tea bag sitting on a small plate. She grabbed it and closed the fridge. Turning, she bumped into someone she wasn’t expecting to be right behind her.

  One of the henchmen was standing in such a way that prevented her from leaving her current position without going around him.

  These guys either had to be new or they didn’t care that what they were doing was practically suicide.

  Noir was notorious for being possessive of everything he deemed belonged to him. Especially when it came to Keirah Shepherd.

  It should have been common sense. Don’t fuck with Noir’s things.

  “Were you the woman we heard screamin’ up a storm last night?” the man asked, his head cocked to the side as his lips held an arrogant smirk.

  Keirah said nothing, and somehow, she managed to keep a blush off of her face. So she was a little loud; it wasn’t exactly her fault …

  “Because we’d be interested in hearin’ such a thing take place,” the other one said, joining his friend and associate. He had a similar look on his face, his eyes clearly giving Keirah a once-over.

  “The way I see it,” the first one said, speaking again. “If the boss gets to fuck her, then why not us? We work hard. We maintain the upkeep and shit of this big-ass house. Why aren’t we allowed to be rewarded for all our hard work?”

  “Don’t you think that if you touch one hair on my body, Noir will personally slit your throat?” Keirah challenged, finally managing to squeeze around him. She had a sense of foreboding, and prayed that nothing bad happened to her.