by Dani René
Crave
Forbidden Series Book #1
Dani René
Edited by
Vanessa Bridges
Contents
Warning
Introduction
Prologue
Love & Pain
1. Angel
2. Samael
Your Light
3. Angel
4. Samael
The Hunter & The Angel
5. Angel
6. Samael
Where I Belong
7. Angel
8. Samael
9. Angel
10. Samael
11. Angel
My Desolation
12. Angel
13. Samael
14. Angel
15. Samael
16. Angel
Our Salvation
17. Samael
18. Angel
19. Samael
20. Angel
Epilogue - Samael
Bonus Scene - Angel
The Reaper & His Angel
Playlist
The Forbidden Series
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Stalk Me
Also by Dani René
Copyright © 2017 by Dani René
Published by Dani René
ISBN: 978-0-620-75121-6
Cover Design: Raven Designs
Photographer: Dave Kelley, Model: Kenzie Kelly
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
ISBN: 978-0-620-75121-6
To the kick ass women who love delving into something darker and aren’t afraid to admit it. I hope you find a new best friend in Angel.
To the babes who love a man that can be an asshole, but also loves fiercely. I hope you all find a new book boyfriend in Samael.
Before you start, know that this isn’t a fairytale.
This isn’t a story filled with roses, rainbows, and sunshine. It’s raw, emotionally draining, and it’s brutal. It will be difficult to read, and there are parts you might not agree with, or even enjoy. That’s okay. That’s exactly what I wanted from this story.
I didn’t plan on it. The characters came to me and told me their story. They consumed me daily until I wrote the last word. I hope they capture you as they have me.
As many dark parts as there are in Sam and Angel’s journey, there is light as well.
Does the dark prince save the day?
Or does his princess have to say goodbye?
You’ll just have to read it and see.
Crave
Verb [used with object]
Feel a powerful desire for (something)
I stalk into the hallway with my mind on everything but work. I need to get out of this house. I need a fucking break, but Father has kept me here training the girls. He instructs me to be brutal, which I am. As much as I enjoy it, though, I don’t want to do it anymore.
There’s been an influx of girls, and I’m exhausted.
What man in their right mind can say they’re tired of fucking? Well, I am.
Pulling the tie from around my neck, I wrap it tight around my hand and undo the top two buttons of my gray dress shirt. The meeting with daddy dearest went as expected, like shit. Ever since my brother got banished from the mansion over a year ago, and I managed to help that feisty little thing escape two months ago, he’s been in a mood.
It’s as if a fucking hurricane hit, sending us all into turmoil, and I’m the one left to pick up the debris.
My father—Harlan Wolfe—is a destructive force when he’s in a good mood. But this fuck up that my brother caused has put him in one of the worst moods ever.
When I reach the room he sent me to, I find a beautiful little chocolate-haired beauty sitting on the perfectly made up bed. “And you are?” I growl. My voice echoes in the empty room, and I see her shudder in response. It’s beautiful when they’re scared. Makes them taste that much sweeter.
“Amy.” She has the sweetest, most melodic voice I’ve ever heard. I stare at her for a moment too long. Her face is a picture of hope, but that’s not what she should be looking at me with. No. She should be staring at me with fear.
“Kneel.” Automatically, she drops to her knees, and my mouth curls into a satisfied smirk.
Good girl.
Those are the words I should praise her with, but I don’t. She needs to earn them. Picking up my whip, I stalk around her confidently, watching her skin dot with tiny bumps. “Please, I—”
“I didn’t ask you to speak. Did I?” I enquire curiously. She shakes her head slowly. Another tremble shoots through her. I raise the whip, bringing it down on her smooth thighs. A loud yelp falls from her plump lips. “No. Fucking. Noise.” Her body shudders with a hiccup, and I know she’s crying, even though I can’t see her eyes.
With her gaze trained on the floor before her, she doesn’t lift her head, but instead she sniffles quietly. I come to a stop at her knees. “Eyes up.” When she obeys, lifting those chocolate orbs to meet my blue ones, my cock hardens painfully. “You’re such a pretty girl when you cry.”
Tears stream down her cheeks then, and I smile.
This is who I am.
When I finally accepted it—came to terms with my fate—my father looked at me with pride. For the first time in twenty long years, he regarded me as a man rather than a child. Raising the whip, I dangle it before her, showing her what lies in her future.
The pain I love inflicting and the blood I love to draw from smooth, creamy skin make me so hard—so fucking solid—that when I drive into their tight bodies, I make them scream my fucking name, over and over again.
I wasn’t always like this. When I turned eighteen, it was as if suddenly the blood that coursed through my veins heated and pulsed with the need to unleash the monster within. The one hiding beneath the beds of sweet angels like this one. This is my family legacy and it has been for generations. It’s part of the family business. Generations of Wolfe men came into their own doing what I’m doing right now. Making sure pretty girls earn their place.
It was two years ago when I first made a girl cry and beg. When I licked at the crimson liquid that seeped from her flesh after I whipped her, I knew—I was the man my father wanted me to be. A Wolfe. “Please, don’t hurt me anymore.” Her angelic voice penetrates my memories, and I glare at her. She shifts and I can tell she’s uncomfortable. I realize her legs must be aching. I’ve had her in the kneeling position for a little while now, and she’s probably not used to it. Tough. She�
�ll have to learn somehow.
Gripping her hair, I tug her up. Her knees give out, which only serves to annoy me. “If you don’t stand properly, you’ll feel more pain than what I have in store for you. I’m not going to tell you again,” I grunt harshly, and she shivers, which makes me hard as rock. I’m supposed to have this one for two weeks. She’ll probably be my most difficult toy. I can tell from the way her body trembles to the tears that threaten to spill from those doe eyes, and I haven’t even spanked her yet. Most of them cry, all of them beg and plead, but only once I’ve started training. My heart rate rises as I watch her lower lip wobble. “If you cry, I’ll take it out on your tight little ass. Do you want that?” I hiss in her ear, and she quickly sucks in a breath.
She must still be a virgin back there, which has me imagining how deliciously tight her ass will be squeezing my dick, and that thought has me throbbing in my slacks. “Pl... please…” she mumbles again, and I can’t help chuckling. They always beg, and I always deliver. Their innocence and purity will be a thing of the past. Once I’m done with them and they look in the mirror, they’ll see how their light has been snuffed out.
I won’t do it quickly either.
Each day of training, I slowly dim the flame—like watching someone die.
Once it’s gone, they’re no longer the virtuous little liars they pretend to be.
No. They’re filthy little toys.
Love & Pain
At the end of innocence,
walking through the gates of hell,
I knew he was my savior.
I saw the light in his darkness.
Within love, there is pain,
but without love there is nothing.
dani rené
sixteen-years-old
The tall, masked man shoves me into a large room, causing me to stumble onto my hands and knees because of the shackles on my ankles and wrists. A bitter taste from the drink I had earlier has my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.
Confusion clouds my mind and the images I try to recall are fuzzy. I’m not sure what happened, but as I drag my gaze around the room, I frown noticing the exquisite elegance of my surroundings. The bedroom is furnished with old antiques, and colored in rich creams, auburns, and browns. It’s almost as if I’ve been transported to a nineteenth-century castle.
I blink, once, twice and my vision blurs.
My mind is a mess.
Images flit through my memory, but nothing makes sense.
Fear courses through me when I turn to glance up at the formidable figure. He doesn’t say a word, only watches. The black mask he wears has a silver lightning streak through it over the left eye. He’s older, probably my father’s age, judging from the dusting of gray that peeks out from the sides of the mask, obvious even in the dim light.
“Where am I?” I question but it goes unanswered. He stalks over to the fireplace and pushes a button, which has the fake fire blazing in seconds. With a glance at me, he crooks his finger, summoning me.
I’m tempted to ignore him, but I’m not sure what his intentions for me are so I push to my feet and wobble over to him before he can say anything more. Fear overwhelms me as I near him, but I swallow it down, and steel myself for whatever is about to happen.
Suddenly, he grips the metal between my wrists and tugs me forward. A small stumble has my body flush against his, and I gasp when I feel something poking at my stomach. Leaning in, his mouth nears my ear. “You’re owned now,” he hisses. “You, my little princess, are going to bring us a lot of money.” The menace in his tone sends fear skittering across my skin and down my spine.
A lump thickens in my throat and tears burn my eyes painfully, but I don’t blink. I don’t want to cry in front of him, even though I’m on the verge. He lifts me and stalks toward the bed, dropping me on the soft mattress. Without another word, he attaches the cuffs around my wrists to the headboard and my ankles to the footboard of the bed.
“Please, let me go. I just want to go home.” He ignores me and continues his work.
Moments later, he turns to leave, but before he walks out the door, he glances at me and nods. And then I’m alone. I’m restrained, so I can’t explore the room, but my eyes dart around. He left the fire going. The shiver that wracks my body has less to do with the temperature, and everything to do with the thoughts of what that man is going to do to me while I’m tied up and helpless.
The darkening sky outside is the only indication that it’s nighttime. After long moments, my arms tingle from being in the same position for so long. Soreness and dread overwhelm me and I burst into tears.
I don’t know how long I lie on the soft, plush mattress and cry, but gradually exhaustion creeps in and steals me for the night.
“Miss.” A sweet voice rouses me, and the clinking of chains drags me from my slumber. “Please, miss, wake up.” When I crack my eyes open, I find a young woman who looks older than me, but not by much, watching me intently. My gaze darts around to find that my legs aren’t shackled anymore, but my arms are still above my head. “I was worried about you,” she offers with a warm smile, but I respond with an angry glare. What? Worried?
“Where the hell am I?” She flinches at my words, but I don’t care. Anger fuels me, and I tug my arms. They, however, don’t give way and the metal bites into my sensitive skin, causing me to wince in pain.
“Please stop doing that. He’ll get angry.” Her big brown eyes dart toward the headboard where my hands are.
“Who are you? Why am I here? Who is he?” She shakes her head quickly and turns to the trolley behind her. There’s a bucket of steamy water and a sponge with a bottle of what looks like soap.
“I need to get you ready. He’ll be here soon and he doesn’t like waiting. You need to be cleaned and shaven. Please, don’t fight me. I’m going to help you, but you need to trust me.” Her pleading gaze startles me. It’s then that I take her in, allowing my gaze to roam over her. She’s got smooth pale skin, but the bright blue and purple bruises on her wrists tell me she’s speaking from experience.
“What’s your name?” I question, hoping I’ll at least get some response. A small smile plays on her lips. Her chocolate brown bangs hang low, close to wide, chestnut eyes.
“Dakota,” she answers. “Just trust me, okay?”
I watch her for a while before responding. “I don’t know you. I need to know what I’m doing here. Or why am I here? Please?” I plead, imploring her with my gaze. She lifts her eyes to mine. A long sigh escapes her lips and I can tell she’s trying to figure out if she should tell me or not.
“I’ve only been told to clean you. I don’t know more than that”—she quickly glances at the door and then back at me, lowering her voice—“just don’t fight him. He’s…” Her words taper off, and she shakes her head.
My heart constricts in fear. “He scares me,” I confess quietly, but she doesn’t respond. “I need to call my parents. My father will be able to help.” Once again the shake of her head answers no. “You’re scared too,” I murmur and she flits up her dark gaze.
“Please, just stop talking.” This time, it’s her plea that hangs between us.
Nodding, I concede wordlessly. Quietly, she proceeds to wash me. Her touch is gentle, and as she cleans me, I find solace in her caring touch. I watch in equal amounts of fear and awe as she starts shaving between my legs. I’d never even done this myself, not that I needed to, since I don’t have very much down there. I also don’t have a boyfriend, and most of my friends say they only do it when they know they’re going to have sex.
That thought sends a new wave of fear through me. Oh my God! Is he going to have sex with me? Is that why she’s doing this?
She straightens and clears her throat. “All done. I’ll be back tonight with your dinner. Perhaps by then, he’ll have untied you. He’s not going to hurt you, as long as you obey him. Just remember, don’t answer him back. He doesn’t like it.” With that my new friend turns and pushes her trolley towar
d the door.
“Wait!”
She halts, and when she turns to me, she shakes her head and continues out the door, leaving me alone once again. The soft scent of the soap she used hangs thick in the air around me and the fragrance reminds me of my past.
When I was little, playing in fields of lavender.
When I was happy. When I was free.
Tears burn my eyes anew, but I vow not to let him see me cry. No matter what he does to me, I’ll be strong. With that thought, my mind flits to a memory of my parents.
“You’re my sweet girl.” I glance at my mother, taking in her wry smile. Even though her words are heartfelt, her face holds an expression of pain, and I wonder why. A soft stroke of her hand on my cheek is gentle enough to have me leaning into her touch. “Remember I’ll love you always.” I just turned thirteen a few days ago and she’s been strange ever since.
“Of course, Mom. Why are you being so dramatic?” I roll my eyes, and she grins wistfully. Even though I wait, no answer comes, and I’m left feeling like there’s something unsaid between us. Secrets, I hate them. They’ve been lingering in our family for so long, and I wish every day that they’d go away. Perhaps it’s my innocence, but adults seem to have more problems with every secret they keep.
“Come on girls, let’s go.” My father steps into my bedroom, and I notice he’s dressed in a suit and tie. Normally, he only dresses up when he goes to work. Although we’re meant to be going out tonight, I didn’t expect him to be wearing such fancy clothing. He promised he’d take me to see Swan Lake, after months of begging. I’ve been attending ballet since I could walk, but haven’t been to class in a few days because I twisted my ankle.
