Stolen Flame

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by D W Marshall




  Stolen Flame

  A Dark Romance Novel

  D.W. Marshall

  Wicked Moon Penning

  Copyright © 2013 by D.W. Marshall

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Stolen Flame is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9968729-5-9

  Cover design by Heidi Dorey

  Editing and Interior Layout by The Authors’ Assistant authorsassistant.com

  Printed in the United States

  To my family for their laughter and love.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Weeping Violet Excerpt

  Also by D.W. Marshall

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Card Me, Please

  Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. It’s 9:15 and I’m already in bed. I can’t even begin to calm myself down. For starters, I’m turning the fabulous two-one! I can finally give a big “eff you” to every doorman and bartender in Vegas who sent me on my way when my fake ID didn’t pass the test. I dare them all to card me after tonight. As a matter of fact, I may just punch a hole in my license and wear it as a necklace. Take that, Mr. Can I See Your ID Please. I want to wear a sign around my neck that says: Vivian Travis. I’m legal, bitches!

  Of course, this plague only befalls me because I look so young. My best friend Maddie has had C cups since I met her in the fricking seventh grade. She never gets carded. Somehow, my less-than-B-cups—that just sounds better than my first-letter-of-the-alphabet cups—are a red flag that screams, “card me.”

  Maddie always tells me that if I made small efforts to look older it would help. She and I are complete opposites in the looks department. Maddie has blonde hair and striking blue eyes. She’s more Sports Illustrated, and I guess I’m Girls Life. My hair is long, straight, and nearly black, making my pale skin seem even fairer. People always compliment me on my steel-gray eyes, but the combination of my skin, eyes, and hair have always made me feel like my ancestors are some breed of wolf. Add that to my runner’s body and lack of a desire to wear makeup, and I guess I can see why I appear younger than I am. It’s not that I have anything against makeup or a curling iron, I just happen to love sleeping more. My appearance is not worth trading for the extra forty-five minutes I get snuggled underneath my comforter.

  The second thing that I’m so jazzed about is that Maddie, her boyfriend, Stevyn, and Liam are taking me for a surprise birthday weekend, and I happen to love surprises. When I was a kid, I would get a thrill at the butterflies attacking my stomach on the first day of school. The higher the drop on a coaster, the better for me. When I asked what we should do for my birthday, I was told by my friends to leave everything up to them. Since then, I have been a bundle of nerves. That’s not the only thing that has my stomach in knots, though. It’s the weekend with Liam that I’m the most thrilled about. Liam and I have also been friends since seventh grade. He and Maddie are my best friends in the whole world. You rarely see one of us without the other.

  The problem is, I’ve managed to fall in love with him. I’ve always thought he was a good-looking guy. Okay, that’s an understatement. With his dark hair, blue eyes, and perfect body, he could be cast in the role of Superman. Growing up, I always knew he was a great catch for any girl lucky enough to be on his radar. Never me. He’s been more like a brother to me, and, we’ve always been on completely different wavelengths when it comes to relationships. Liam is kind of a ladies’ man, and I believe in abstinence. How could we be compatible?

  Sex always seems to be a deal-breaker in my relationships. I’ve yet to meet the guy who shares my beliefs. I don’t get why guys think I’m such a freak because I don’t want to give up something so sacred to me. I’m sorry, guys, but our third date is not a significant event, nor enough of a commitment for me to give up that part of me. I can only give that to someone once, and I’m not saying it has to be my husband, but I would prefer it be someone I love enough to one day become my husband. Liam could be that person, but I can’t expect him to wait for me, and I’m not sure I’m willing to sacrifice my personal beliefs, even if I am in love with him.

  About a year ago, something changed. I began confiding in him about my failed dates and relationships, something that I never really did before. Maddie was always my sounding board for that. My failed relationships had been a long-running joke between Liam and me, but one day, I took a leap and sought out a male point of view. It was then that I saw a different side of him. He was supportive and patient and a great listener. He stopped making jokes about my romantic misfortunes. He told me how special I was and how beautiful I was. Really? He would tell me about what he would do if he was with someone like me. Not me exactly, but someone like me.

  I could gaze into his baby-blue eyes all night. He made me feel special. Over the course of the last year, Liam altered my view of him. I started to think that maybe with the right woman, someone he could really love, he could be tamed. Now, I’m lost. I’m a bumbling idiot around him. Of course, I haven’t said anything to him because I could ruin everything.

  Liam’s emotional support for me is no different than what he would do for Maddie. If I told him about my changing feelings, things could get awkward fast. Or, worse, if we did try and it didn’t work out, we could end up hating each other. Are my new feelings worth risking our friendship?

  Unfortunately, Maddie noticed how weird I started acting around Liam. I couldn’t lie to her when she asked me what was going on, so I confessed my feelings for our fellow best friend. In true Maddie form, she couldn’t wait to jump at that chance to intervene. She had no problem reverting us back to early middle school. She might as well have sent Liam a fucking note: Do you like Vivian? Check yes or no.

  I wanted to kill her when she told me she pumped him for information about how he feels about me. Then she came back with the news that he is also into me, and I almost died. Liam “The Hotness” Patrick is into me? Holy crap! That goes a long way to making this weekend one of the most important birthday weekends of my life.

  The only details I was given about my birthday weekend were to pack an evening dress, a slutty party dress, and a bikini. No doubt the latter are for Maddie’s elaborate plan to ensure that Liam and I are a couple by the time we return home. I openly pray that her plan works as wells as she hopes it does, because the idea of Liam and I as a couple keeps me up most nights. All I want is to be on the rec
eiving end of those sparkling blue eyes and that dazzling, dimpled smile.

  So, other than my constant obsession that my best guy friend and the secret object of my desire wants me, the rest of my birthday celebration is a mystery. My brain is working on overdrive tonight. Maybe I should make another sign to hang around my neck declaring my love for Liam. If only I were that brave.

  After hours of tossing and turning, I finally drift off into a Liam-filled dream. I’ve always been a light sleeper, so I rouse when I hear the creak of my door opening. I don’t know how long I was out, but my body tells me that the sun isn’t up yet. I know my door is open; I can see it’s dark in the hallway. Probably Growl. If my door isn’t closed all the way, my black lab comes and visits me in the middle of the night. There have been plenty of mornings when I wake up to him hogging most of the bed. I think nothing of it and close my eyes, prepared to let sleep consume me in hopes that I can return to my dream. Liam was just about to grab me in a lover’s embrace and kiss me. Suddenly, I feel something slip over my head. I can’t see anything.

  “What the hell?” I gasp, and right as I’m prepared to scream, I remember the surprise. These fools. Might as well play along. No sense ruining the surprise, especially since they went to the length of staging a kidnapping. “Wow, guys. This is a better surprise than I thought. Talk about elaborate. I’m game. Please, Mister Kidnapper. Please don’t take me,” I add with a giggle. Not a word from my friends. “Maddie, if you’re gonna go this far and take me from my bed in the middle of the night, at least grab my overnight bags. They’re right by the door.” I point in the general direction of my bags. “P.S., this hood stinks! Please tell me I don’t have to wear this the whole time, ’cause that is so not gonna work for me.”

  Still not a word or a giggle from my friends.

  I continue playing along. In a few moments I will be riding in the car with Liam, hopefully the backseat. Not that I’m brave enough to try anything. I feel someone lift one of my feet and I realize that they want me to slide into my slippers. “Thank goodness. I thought you were going to walk me right out the front door barefoot,” I say.

  I wish I knew if the strong hands holding me belonged to Liam or Stevyn. If I knew for sure they belonged to Liam, I’d trip on purpose just to have him catch me.

  The air is cool and windy—April in Las Vegas. If I didn’t have the stinky hood on, I could feel the nighttime breeze that I love so much caressing my face. Knowing that triple digits are on their way, I like to appreciate the crisp April winds.

  I can hear a car door open and the tug on my arm indicating that I am to enter the vehicle. My right leg is lifted to guide me up the high step. Wow, an SUV—they went all out. “Can I take the stinky hood off now? I’m seriously over this thing already.” I get no response.

  The door clanks shut and echoes. Huh? I sit in my seat and am quickly belted in. Before I can utter another word, we are on the move.

  “Okay, guys, seriously, if you think I’m riding for another minute under this fowl hood…” I start to remove the hood from my head.

  “Leave the hood where it is,” a deep voice warns me. That voice does not belong to anyone that I know.

  In a flood of adrenaline, the hairs raise on my arms. I’m on high alert now. I’m in trouble. My heart starts a steady drumming that is so strong I can feel each beat pounding in my ears.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I shout.

  No response.

  I hear a faint conversation in front of me. The driver…no, the passenger is talking. I strain to hear anything that might help me.

  “Yes, boss. We have her,” the deep voice says. I don’t hear an immediate response, so I can only assume he’s on a call. “No, boss, we didn’t have to drug her. Get this, apparently her friends were supposed to kidnap her for some surprise.” He laughs.

  Fuck you, mister. That’s the only way you got me so easily.

  “She let us put the hood on and walked right out the door.” He laughs again. “Her family had no idea,” he continues. “It was priceless. I wish they were all so easy. We’ll be at the airport in about twenty minutes.”

  The conversation ends and I realize how many mistakes I’ve made. I let them take me from my home. From my fucking bed! I have willingly climbed into a kidnapper’s vehicle! Now they think I’m getting on a fucking plane! Hell no!

  Oh my God, what am I going to do? What the fuck? My mom and dad. My little brother, Shane. Why didn’t I realize that my friends like their sleep too much to wake up in the wee hours of the night! Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t get on that plane! I’m as sure as dead if I do. Better they toss my dead carcass on the side of a Vegas road. At least my parents will find out sooner what happened to me.

  I take two or three deep breaths and am almost knocked out by the foul, rotten egg smell. Fuck you, assholes. I remove the hood. I only grab a few mental snapshots. Four men. Two in back with me. Two in the front seat. It’s not an SUV, but a certified, kidnapper-issued, blacked-out van. That’s all I see before my mouth is covered with a cloth saturated in a chemical. I go into black, dreamless nothingness.

  Chapter Two

  Liam, Lost Boy

  This is going to be the most exciting weekend of my entire life. Vivian and I have been in the friend zone since seventh grade, and it’s long past time to change that. I have it on good authority that Vivian wants more with me, too. Our mutual friend, Maddie, has told me in no uncertain terms that if I’m ready to take our relationship to the next level, the ball is in my court. In other words, I need to stop being a pussy and tell the girl I have been in love with for years how I feel. When it comes to Vivian, though, I am, indeed, the biggest pussy on earth.

  Vivian is no ordinary girl, and everyone knows that I’m in love with her. Well, she hasn’t caught on. She’s the most beautiful and sexy creature ever created. Her pale, dewy skin, contrasts with her near-ebony hair, which is set off by the most electric steel gray eyes. Her beauty is rare. Her body is toned and fit, with the perfect amount of curves. But the thing that sets Vivian in an entirely different league from other gorgeous girls is that she is even more sensational on the inside.

  There is nothing more attractive than a sizzling hot girl who doesn’t know she’s gorgeous. The drawback is that every yahoo thinks he might have a shot with her because she’s approachable. Her kindness should not be confused with stupidity. She is sweet and all, but she has a tough side. She kicked my butt a couple of times growing up, until I got my man muscle and she stopped trying to take me. If she only knew I secretly loved our little fights. Her temper is even hot.

  Over the years, I have had to sit back and endure the guys in her life—the ones who she only gave the briefest moment of her time and, worse, the ones who she really liked. Those were the most painful. My stupidity and weakness threw me right into the role of friend. I played the role well because I loved her and really was her friend. I did it with pride, and being on the receiving end of those mesmerizing eyes peering into my soul, or her smile that turned my heart into a puddle on the floor, was a gift. For her, I would play any role I was cast in. Protector is the role I have claimed for myself. If I couldn’t be the one she fell for, then I would make damn sure that no one had the chance to hurt her.

  Then something in our friendship changed. It’s like I received a promotion over the last year or so. Recently, she and I began spending more time together, alone. I still haven’t made a move. Big wuss. I did manage to tell her how absolutely beautiful she is.

  She became more forthcoming about her boyfriend troubles, and listening only added more nails to the friend coffin, to the point where I’ve buried any chance at her seeing me as anything else. My wussiness knows no bounds. Then, one night about six months ago, she called me and asked if she could stop by. This wasn’t out of the norm. Well, maybe her calling first was. Usually, Vivian and Maddie popped by whenever they wanted. When I opened my door, I could tell she’d been crying. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need
to. I immediately wrapped my arms around her. I loved her.

  That night solidified my feelings for Vivian Marie Travis. I knew that my role forever more would be to love and protect her. She was all I ever wanted. We stayed up until three in the morning talking about everything and nothing, including the jerk who broke her heart. When neither of us could keep our eyes open, I made up the sofa for myself and told her she could take my room. She smiled at me sweetly with silvery-gray twinkly eyes, and I felt my heart stop.

  “What?” I asked her. If I was really a man, I would have made my feelings known at that very moment. I would have stormed over to her, grabbed her into an embrace, and stoked the fire behind her eyes. I would have sacrificed everything to have her. That night, I was no man. I was what I have always been, her loyal friend.

  “I’m not putting you out of your own bed, Liam. We can share the bed, if you don’t mind.” She blushed and I momentarily couldn’t speak, blink, or think.

  “I…I…don’t mind if you don’t,” I stammered.

  And that was it. The first night Vivian slept over. It wouldn’t be the last. Nothing ever happened, but I could feel an electricity, that I assumed was coming from me, when our skin touched. Every night she slept with me, we moved closer and closer. Until waking up with her in my arms was the norm and some of the most exhilarating mornings of my life.

 

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