The Edge Of Darkness Read online

  As always, this book is dedicated to:

  My girls, husband, my mom, and everyone who reads and supports my books!

  You ROCK!

  In the blink of an eye, everything can change.

  So forgive often, live freely & love deeply.

  Melissa Andrea

  Prologue

  It happened so fast and not like people thought or said it did.

  My heart raced as I stood off to the side of the stage waiting for my name to be called. I bit my lip, clinging to the black curtain and peeking out at the audience.

  My life didn’t flash before my eyes.

  It was a packed house, not an empty seat in the entire place. My eyes scanned the crowd until I was able to spot her.

  There were no images of blissful times, no final memories to cherish before I died.

  She was looking in my direction, but I knew she couldn’t see me within the shadows. It didn’t matter. Just seeing my mother calmed my racing heart and I was able to breathe again.

  No, I wasn’t that lucky. I witnessed everything in slow, horrifying detail.

  The lights were dim and the crowd was hushed as the music came to a measured end. I took a step back, pressing my heels together, rising and squatting gracefully.

  I was jerked forward, my seat belt cutting painfully into my body before I was slammed back.

  The melody finally drifted to an end and the dancer came running off stage. She smiled at me and whispered “Good luck,” before disappearing into the darkness.

  Thick, jagged pieces of glass shattered into a million tiny crystals in front of me.

  I heard the cool voice of the announcer as she introduced me to the crowd. I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and scolded my nerves as I suppressed the urge to throw up.

  Before I could block my face, their sharp edges cut into my skin.

  I could do this; I knew I could. Dancing was something I’d done since I was eight months old and refused to walk any other way but on my toes.

  Tires squealed and the world spun as we flipped and rolled.

  I could feel my adrenaline pumping as confidence began to flow through my system. I took form, counted to three, and spun onto the stage.

  Metal screeched across the road, melting and sparking against the pavement.

  Positioning my arms above my head, I extended my leg and pointed my foot out. When the music lifted I spun around, lifting on my toes and kicking my leg into the air.

  The smell of gasoline, burnt rubber, and blood mixed and stung my nose.

  I wanted Julliard to be proud they chose me. I may have only been fifteen, but I was a damn good dancer.

  I tried to focus on her face, but my vision blurred.

  The tempo changed and I recognized the dramatic ending for what it was and my mom’s words lingered in the back of my mind—“Blow their minds, Araya, and dance like it’s the last time…” And that’s exactly what I did.

  Our screams were the last thing I heard.

  My head pounded with each whispered word that drifted through my never-ending black fog.

  Everything felt heavy. My arms and legs felt weighed down. I couldn’t wiggle my fingers, much less move anything else. As bad as I wanted to, the simple task of opening my thin eyelids was something I couldn’t manage.

  “Unfortunately, we couldn’t contain the infection in time and it has spread…”

  I didn’t recognize the low voice hidden in the shadows. It was deep and male as his words flowed from the black and swirled around my head.

  Infection? Spread? Couldn’t contain? Where am I and how long have I been here?

  “What does that mean exactly?”

  I knew that voice. I could never forget the easy sweep of her cold tone. It was my Aunt Nina. I strained my ears to hear the one voice that would make everything feel okay—my mother’s.

  “I’m afraid it’s not good news…”

  The male voice got deeper; it seemed to dip lower at the end of each sentence. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but a tiny pull deep in my stomach told me my life would never be the same.

  “She’ll never dance again.”

  She wasn’t fazed. I wanted to focus on what that meant, but her words stole my attention.

  “How long before she wakes up? The arrangements for my sister have already been made.”

  My aunt’s voice was cold—it was always cold—but that wasn’t what sent an icy chill through my body. Arrangements? What arrangements? There was a loud buzzing in my ears and my chest began to hurt, and as I listened to the rest of their conversation, the knot in my stomach grew.

  “She’s already showing signs of coming to. It’s just a matter of time now.”

  I wanted to sit up and scream at them, tell them I was awake—that I was alive, but I couldn’t form the words, and the deep voice was still talking.

  “When she does wake, the trauma of realizing what happened is going to be severe. I don’t know that it will be best to tell her right away,”

  Fear choked me. Panic took over my limp, heavy body and I felt like jumping up and screaming for them to tell me whatever it was. And then the man spoke again and his words stabbed into my chest and snatched all my air away. The world spun away from me and the blackness around me moved in and began to consume my thoughts.

  “Adding the news of her mother’s death will only…”

  His words faded behind the fierce pounding in my ears. My fingers gripped something soft, and I felt my body strain against the pain exploding in my chest.

  “Doctor!” another voice shouted in panic. “Her heart rate is out of control.”

  Fingers grabbed and groped at me as frantic voices issued commands all around me and I felt myself being jerked back. Icy air ran up my stomach as they pulled whatever was keeping me warm away. Something smooth and cold stung my bare skin.

  “CLEAR!”

  My body pulsated as an electric current ran through my system. I felt nothing. I was numb from head to toe and all I could hear over and over was:

  My mother is dead.

  I can’t dance.

  My mother is dead.

  Araya Noelle

  One

  The wispy sound didn’t carry far before it evaporated into the wind and the entire incident seemed to play out in slow motion, as if fate didn’t want me to skip out on one humiliating detail.

  It was a really bad case of irony.

  Even if I could have foreseen this exact moment ten times over, I still wouldn’t have been prepared for the crushing impact or the excruciating pain that followed.

  I hadn’t meant for the strangled sound that was climbing my throat to actually escape, but before I could control it, the sound managed to catch the correct vibrations, creating the perfect scream as it exhaled through my trembling lips.

  My heart skipped a single beat and then kicked painfully against my chest, trying to restart itself. I could feel the heat spreading up my face and the blood pounding angrily in my ears, and I realized that the simple act of breathing was no longer an option for me.

  I mentally counted to ten and the sweet summer air warmed my lungs and calmed my nerves. I was desperately trying to hold myself together before falling completely apart.

  I coaxed my muscles to move, my hands fell to the ground on both sides of me, and my fingers clenched the soft blades of grass, crushing their delicate strands in my fist.

  I could finally pull the air into my deprived lungs and I let out a small whimper as I felt the cool liquid pooling into my lap. It was spreading furiously across my skirt, leaving no thread untouched by its destruction.

  I didn’t have time to pull my thoughts together before the scent began to occupy every pore inside my nose, cau
sing my eyes to sting and water over behind my shaded sunglasses.

  In no time at all, the air around me seemed to be manipulated by the artificial scent of roses, overpowering my clean oxygen and choking me into a frenzy of coughs.

  My head dropped toward my lap where the foreign object still rested atop my thighs, invading my space. I picked up the rough almond-shaped leather and the raised surface caressed the insides of my palms as my fingertips discovered and explored the tightly strung laces of the football.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. Since I sat down, I’d been rudely hit on, scared to death by a very friendly golden retriever, and had come close to choking on this damn football more than once since I’d been aware of the game that was going on not too far from me. They finally succeeded, and that damn thing was leaving the evidence of a very painful sting, not to mention the mess scattered in my lap.

  I didn’t need to look up to know the running footsteps coming toward me belonged to the ball’s owner with the clumsy hands and bad catching skills. Before I could fully register what was happening, the football was plucked from my fingers, and he managed a careless “Thanks!” as if I had purposely caught the ball and, in trade, done them a huge favor.

  I clenched my teeth together until my jaw ached and closed my eyes, counting to ten again as I listened to the hit-and-run flee from the scene without so much as an apology.

  I bit down on my lower lip painfully and silently pleaded with the tears that threatened to slip. Even though no one could see behind my sunglasses, I blinked hard until the urge to cry vanished.

  I inhaled a deep breath and tried to exhale the little nagging voice that whispered, You’ll never belong. I never should have come up with this insane idea in the first place.

  I sat under the big oak tree that shaded just enough of me to keep me content. The wind was a blissful caress that flirted through my hair and danced across my skin. I should have been satisfied to experience even this small amount of freedom, but I was far from feeling fulfilled. I wanted more, a lot more. I was shamelessly uncaring about my demand. I wanted to have the whole park to myself, even if only for one day.

  All day and every day of my life I was forced to give up anything that belonged to or was given to me. I was locked in that tiny hole that was jokingly misrepresented as a livable environment with no contact to the outside world. So yes, inconsiderately, I wanted everyone else to fade away and let today be about me.

  Despite my unrealistic desires, no one disappeared and the park remained a chaotic background noise. Now as I sat here with my air supply slowly depleting, I was left to think back on all the times this past week I’d begged—literally begged—Mr. Metchler to bring me to the park while he did his afternoon errands.

  At first, he’d given me every excuse he could come up with on how unsafe it was for a girl like me to be alone for an entire afternoon with the weirdoes these days. Then finally, to my surprise and triumph, I had worn him down and he escorted me to the park, leaving me here under this tree until he came back for me at the end of the afternoon.

  I despised that little nagging voice in my head that told me to admit that he’d been right. So maybe he had been a little right, but never would I be caught alive confessing that to him.

  It’s unfair, I thought angrily.

  Over the weekend, I’d been planning this whole day down to the last second. It was supposed to be perfect! A soothing kind of quiet, which was a giant leap from the atmosphere to which I was usually accustomed. A place I could work without too much distraction, with just the right amount of sunlight and enough fresh air to get me through the day until it was time to go back to that dark, musky room.

  “Ugh!” The hostile sound burned my lips, and I scolded myself for complaining when I’d brought this upon myself.

  I finally began to try and salvage whatever I could of the damage that had been done in my lap. I didn’t want to waste the rest of my time here, so I was going to suck it up and not let this get the best of me. Next time I would pick a more secluded spot.

  If there is a next time, which wasn’t a very comforting thought.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting here lost in my own little world of self-doubt, but it must have been some time, because I didn’t hear the voice that was attempting to talk to me.

  Slowly, the deep tone finally managed to penetrate my brain enough to bring me out of my deep thoughts. Lifting my head, I was able to catch the last part of his concerned questioning.

  “…Are you okay?”

  How long has he been crouched next—

  I didn’t have time to finish my thought before I was completely caught off guard by a pair of hands coming up to cradle my face. Soothing thumbs softly stroked and traced circles around my mouth and jaw, which I assumed were looking for any signs of harm. Long and firm fingers seemed to lose themselves in my hair and stray against my scalp.

  Again the silky voice came. “Okay, now I’m starting to worry because you haven’t said anything for a full five minutes.”

  I was too startled by his bold touch that I didn’t fully understand what he was talking about. His voice was hypnotizing enough to distract me beyond my own control.

  I was suddenly feeling extremely unnerved by his presence and trying not to focus on the small part of me that felt a flicker of disappointment when his hands slid free from the thick strands of my hair and over my neck before his lingering fingertips dropped away completely.

  “No noticeable damage done,” he confirmed, standing up, taking the sunlight with him. “However, we did make one hell of a mess with your… stuff.” He swore, obviously observing the destruction. “I’m really sorry.”

  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what happened to my voice, but I seemed to have lost the ability to speak.

  “Need any help cleaning this up?”

  He was tall and that made his voice sound like it was coming from the sky. My neck arched up, seeking more of the captivating deep sound. I pulled myself free of my daze and realized I must have seemed like a complete idiot, yet I still couldn’t find the words to structure a comprehensive sentence to answer his simple question.

  Maybe it was the way he asked. The question carried something with it, a different kind of tenor. It had been a long time since someone had used such a gentle tone with me and it left me feeling confused and… sad.

  I was used to harsh words and hard voices. Not… concern. His voice held the familiar trace of his South Carolina pitch, and it spilled over me like warm silk. I had to admit that I wasn’t very educated on many things, and guys were completely lost on me.

  Heat instantly poured over my arched face, and the hot rays of the afternoon sun warmed my skin unexpectedly. His clothes rustled as he lowered himself down to hover over my sitting figure again.

  I found myself smiling on the inside when I realized my silence was making him nervous, causing him to go from an anxious standing to an awkward kneeling position.

  Over the years I’d developed a sixth sense to know what people were feeling without having to closely observe them. Uncomfortable silence was something I was very used to when people met me.

  I wasn’t quite sure who looked more foolish, him or me. I felt my eyes mist over while his standing form took the shade away once more, leaving my face to deal with the intense flames of the sun again. I wasn’t sure why, but it seemed to have gotten a whole lot hotter within the last couple of minutes.

  Every cell in my body seemed to come alive and focus all its attention on the rough hands that were moving over me again in an attempt to help fix the chaos that had been caused in my lap earlier. I realized then that he was helping me without my consent, which was also something else I wasn’t used to anymore.

  Somehow I found my voice and was able to put into words a note of gratitude despite the confused and scrambled feelings rolling crazily around inside my head and mixing with the smell and heat that was already making me dizzy.

  “Tha
nk you,” I said.

  “Finally, she speaks!”

  Even though he was teasing, there was a note of relief in his voice.

  I swore I could feel the smile in his words run and spread like wildfire through my veins. I tried not to blush, but even as I sent out the command to my brain and all my will power went into trying to control it, I felt the beginnings of a warm glow flush my face.

  “I didn’t know girls around here still knew how to do that,” he said, confusing me.

  “What?”

  “Blush.”

  When it deepened, he laughed out loud—a deep, rich laugh that had the effect to fill my ears and echo throughout my head. His laughter faded and he spoke again with that same gentle concern, creating a sweet ache in me that I didn’t fully understand. I was also pretty sure I didn’t want to either.

  “I’m really sorry about this. The goal of the game is for the person being thrown the ball to actually catch it.”

  His small chuckle at his own witty remark to make light of the situation was contagious, and it caused a chain reaction of my own laughter.

  He faked shock. “Well, isn’t that a surprise?”

  “What?”

  “You laugh too.”

  “Well, don’t be too stunned to know I actually have all the qualities to show every kind of emotion possible.”

  He laughed again. “That’s good to know. I look forward to getting to see those too.”

  His voice poured over me like warm honey and I shivered at his words. I wondered how I was still sitting here and not a puddle at his feet. The thrill of his words raced through me until my insides clenched.

  I knew I was sitting there like an idiot, but I didn’t know what to say. Was he flirting with me? Guys didn’t flirt with me. I certainly didn’t flirt with guys, and I didn’t want to say anything that would embarrass us both.

  I looked down, wishing I knew how to be cute and flirtatious. I suddenly wanted very badly to be like a normal girl. I wanted to capture his attention the way he captured mine.

  His hands moved over my lap and the back of his fingers brushed along the tops of my thighs, and I sucked in a sharp breath. His hands stilled.