by Amarie Avant
But check out the suspenseful, drama induced prologue on the next page!
Prologue
“We aren’t getting married, Donnie.”
“AC, I swear—you take that ring off your finger—you’ll regret it.”
“A threat, huh? Sounds like the new Donavan Hardy. More of a badass, even more untouchable.”
Avery’s world was blanketed in silence. She could still recall how his beautiful face twisted when he’d responded. The entire moment reverberated, an earthquake shattering her heart. An image of Donavan’s thick, taut muscles shaking with rage as she removed the engagement ring and flung it at his face took hold of her mind.
What once had symbolized a blossoming happily ever after—made even more precious by the storm they’d endured—had bounced off his thick chest, coming to a clattering stop where Avery had fallen through the rotted-wood flooring last year. Donavan had saved her from tumbling fifteen feet down into the massive ballroom below when she was remodeling her great grandmother’s home—The Baudelaire Estate.
In the past, if there were anyone that could calm Donavan’s rage, it was Avery. She’d cuss and slap, finally getting him to understand what needed to be understood, the tough way. Farther back, there was also Franny, Avery’s great-grandmother and the former owner of The Baudelaire Estate, who had made the boy from the wrong side of the tracks feel at home even when Avery’s own father glared at him.
She sunk down to the glossy wood floor, clutching her arms across her abdomen. She was much too tired to argue with Donavan now, and Franny had died years ago.
An imaginary elephant took up residence on top of her chest. Don’t do it, Avery, don’t lose your mind right now.
It felt like it had always been Avery and Donavan. Before the notion was even fathomable, Donavan Hardy had claimed Avery’s heart. Giving him her heart as a child was the equivalent to taking her next breath of air.
Crack!
Avery started. There had been a sound loud enough that she could feel it, like a firework. Avery pulled herself up off the floor. She looked around, not sure where to start since the storm that raged outside could have caused damage anywhere in the massive house. Feeling vibrations on the floor, Avery turned around. Sheriff, the black golden retriever that Donavan had purchased on a whim a month back and another topic of their burgeoning fights, barked to the high heavens.
“You are going to upset Anya, please.” Avery didn’t need hearing to know that the puppy gave it his all with each yelp. His thick black mane stood on end, tail jetting outward.
“Sheriff, if you do not shut it, I’m going to tell Junior that you ran away. You’ll find yourself adopted by a nice, caring family, somewhere far, far away.” She tried on a smile, but it shook off all too easily. As Avery reached down to scoop him up, the puppy darted out of her hands, fleeing past the antique chaise and through the door.
“Dammit.”
Avery was in pursuit, but Sheriff had already made it down the long hallway. Eight-year-old Donavan Junior held a frisky six-month-old Anya in his arms. The baby’s creamy colored skin was reddened, her cheeks rosy from crying. Avery took her daughter and thanked her son by kissing the top of his sandy wavy hair.
“Oh, baby.” Avery chatted with her daughter, who often cooed and gave a toothless laugh while carrying on a conversation. But Anya’s lips were set in frown, sensing her mother’s sorrow.
Junior signed, “Mom, I have to get Sheriff.”
She nodded, then spoke each word slowly. “If he went through the doggy door, Junior, then come get me. You are not to go outside alone. The storm is getting bad. I’ll be in Anya’s room, putting her down. We all know how she gets if she hasn’t had her nap.”
Avery headed toward the room closest to her own, which had not been refurbished to reflect the estate’s grandeur in its prime like all the other Baudelaire bedrooms. It was an eclectic nursery with modern bright blue walls, painted elephants, and antique furniture.
Avery breathed in the mild scent of Anya, almost calming, until her gaze landed on the pink oleander flowers on the cherrywood stand outside of Anya’s bedroom. Ice flushed through her veins. Those weren’t her favorite flowers. And Donavan was in too much heat to mend it with bunches of lavender.
Hunter has been in my house? He put these flowers here!
The anger took root in her stomach, kneading tiny knots.
Holding Anya as close as possible, Avery started toward the stairs. The staircase opened at the opposite end of the long hall. Junior’s back was to her. There was no use screaming or shouting; he wouldn’t hear a single word, but . . . Avery hadn’t noticed it before . . . behind Junior on an accent table was another vase of pink oleanders.
Avery’s breath hitched as Junior turned slightly in her direction. She chopped her left hand through the air, but he didn’t look up while meandering down. He was mid-step, shouting for Sheriff, when he noticed her. She waved him back up, her finger to her lips.
“But Mom . . .”
Gaze darkening, she waved at him again, and he hustled up the stairs.
Though Junior was almost as good at lip reading as she’d been as a child, Avery handed him the baby and signed the words, “Take Anya, go in your room. Lock the door—”
He mouthed, “But mom, Sherriff! He always listens when I call him.”
“Now. Please,” she growled. Avery ran along the hall, grabbing the wooden banister to stop herself from moving so quickly. She turned and flew down the stairs. Her bare feet hit the second landing with a thud as she gripped the railing to rush down toward the double doors. She stopped short.
The doors were wide open! Though the wind was driving hard outside, Avery knew the chill creeping down her spine came from fear.
Readjusting her focus, Avery gasped. A man stood at the foot of the stairs. Hunter’s dark eyes, which once held a note of sanity, were now narrowed. He placed his hand along the intricately carved banister and started up. He wore a black windbreaker and black khakis. His thin lips were virtually nonexistent as he ascended the steps slowly. His broad shoulders almost as wide as the lofty staircase.
“Now, why would our son do that?”
Her bones trembled. Their son? She’d never—
Hunter sneered. “Run and hide? Hide from whom, AC!”
“You can’t call me that.” Avery knew her voice was all but a croak. Had the words even been audible? Pressing her way back up the stairs, fire shot through Avery’s heel as it hit the back of the cedarwood steps. Her eyes stayed glued on Hunter’s lips though.
“Do you know that, when we first met, I thought about squeezing your neck until blood burst out your eyes?” He measured each word. “You were under this enchantment.”
His statement made no sense, and Avery was confused. But one thing she was sure of was that Hunter was crazier than she herself had been when she’d lost her mind at Sunnymead Resort.
When she spoke, her tone was level and confident. “I apologize for hurting your feelings.” Avery wasn’t the type to run or hide, and not even the devil himself could stop her from fighting for her children. “But I do need you to leave my house.”
“That’s Donavan talking for you, AC. That’s not you.” He shook his head, disappointment unmistakable. “See, you love me, Avery. You wouldn’t say—”
She stopped staring at his lips. Something more sinister than his delusional words caught her attention. “Blood,” she murmured, lips trembling. “There’s blood on your boots.” Her hands quivered as the worst slammed through her mind. The crimson splashes on his boots were fresh. She looked back up at Hunter’s face.
“I got rid of Donavan for us.”
Eyes in a daze, Avery was momentarily woozy. In an instant, the space between them no longer existed. Hunter pressed so close that she startled. Bracing herself, Avery fell back onto the steps. The ridges of each step digging into her spine. Hunter’s steel frame hovered above her.
Avery held her ground. Lips taut, chin up, she
again made her demand. “Leave.”
His breath was rancid. He was too close. She made out the movements of his now untensed, peaceful mouth, understanding what he was saying. “Donavan can’t come between us anymore.”
“Oh god!” She sobbed. She looked toward heaven. All hope was gone, but she didn’t have time to mourn, instead another dose of ice traveled through her core. On the landing she saw her son, gripping the railing.
Junior’s honey brown eyes expanded in fear. His mouth was tight in anger for his mother’s sake.
Why hadn’t he locked himself in the room with the baby? When Hunter rubbed the silk of her jaw, Avery slapped at his hand. He gripped her cheeks, short nails biting down deep.
“I just knew Hardy ruined my life, left me in my own hell.” He tapped a hand against his leg. “Flaws and all. You taught me to embrace those flaws, AC. So stop letting that motherfucker control your mind! It’s you, me, and our children now!”
Spittle sprayed her face. He was looking away. Avery followed his gaze.
Her hand.
The sting of his fingernails in her cheek disappeared. He rubbed at the pained area. “You-you aren’t wearing your engagement ring.”
“I . . .” She thumbed her bare ring finger.
“Good. I’m glad you’re seeing things my way.” The psychotic mask disappeared from Hunter’s face. This move she’d made by removing her engagement ring pleased him—immensely.
Thank you for checking out the prologue of Make Me Stay II which is already up for grabs on Amazon. I beg of you . . . please review it as well as Black Queen, Dark Knight II.
