Shades of Darkness (Trials of Fear Book 2) Read online

  “Yeah, you know, the guy who wears those fedoras all the time and dresses all nineteen fifties.”

  “Isn’t he fucking old as shit?” I asked as I unzipped my pants and kicked them off along with my socks. My shirt remained in place. It was non-negotiable, and even though Krew knew and understood why, it didn’t make me any more comfortable being completely on display. Self-conscious didn’t even begin to describe my issues.

  “What the hell do you call old as shit? The guy is probably in his forties. That ain’t old, sweetheart. He’s fucking loaded, and you know Rig has always wanted his very own sugar daddy. He wasn’t about to turn down that offer, regardless of the guy’s age. Besides, he’s hot as hell. I’d let him have my ass if he asked.”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled as I searched up a condom and lube in the bedside table. “He can fucking line up.”

  I hadn’t intended my comment to have an edge to it or for it to be interpreted the wrong way, but Krew chuckled and quirked a brow as he propped himself on his elbows.

  “Oohh, bitch, are you jealous? Do not let Rig hear that, he will eat it up. There will be no saving our non-relationship status.”

  I tossed the supplies on the bed beside him and nudged his legs apart, fitting myself in between. “How about you shut up and do something useful with your mouth.”

  Since the first time I’d brought Krew back to my apartment, we’d had a mutual understanding that neither of us were interested in anything more than a casual, commitment-free fuck from time to time. Our friendship had developed afterward, but rules were strictly adhered to. I was not that guy, and neither was he.

  Krew knew better than to keep talking along that line of conversation. He pulled himself upright and nuzzled his face into my crotch as he squeezed my ass cheeks; kneading them and dragging me closer.

  I threaded my fingers through his too perfect hair and guided his mouth to my swelling erection. He gave amazing head, and the anticipation of gliding into his warm mouth had my skin on fire.

  He traced his lips along my shaft, leaving a wet trail with his tongue as he dragged it along the sensitive underside.

  “Don’t be a fucking tease. Just suck it and get it hard and ready.”

  I knew Krew ordinarily preferred a good hard fucking to exchanging blow jobs, but there was something about his mouth that was hard to ignore. In the next moment, he took me to the back of his throat, and I tightened my grasp on his hair, gasping at the intensity of the sensation.

  “Fuuuuuck…that’s what I’m talking about.”

  He didn’t mess around after that and spent a few solid minutes devouring my dick as he got me hard as granite. When he pulled off, he slipped the condom into my hand and maneuvered himself onto his hands and knees, wiggling his ass in the air and grinning over his shoulder.

  “Give it to me good and hard, baby.”

  “You’re such a fucking slut.”

  “But right now, I’m your fucking slut, so quit complaining.”

  I made quick work of suiting up and coating myself with lube. Krew didn’t like a whole lot of prep, so after minimal attention, I lined up and buried myself balls deep in one quick thrust.

  “Ah, fuck, yes!” he cried.

  He dropped his head to the mattress and pressed back, seating himself as deep as he could get. It was exactly the distraction I needed. Too many hours and days alone left me at the mercy of my mind, and it was dangerous.

  I only waited long enough to ensure he was comfortable before all bets were off. Then, I fucked him mercilessly, pounding him into the mattress until we both found our release. We collapsed on the bed side by side, panting and sweating from exertion.

  Krew rolled to his back and followed my stare to the ceiling as his chest heaved. “Fuck… that was… amazing.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more, but I remained silent as my body came down off its high. Savoring the few minutes of peacefulness inside my mind was necessary. They were few and far between lately. The all-consuming blanket of dread would be back, and it would cloak and suffocate me once again. Every day was a battle, and I was getting tired of fighting. What was once one problem had become many, and there was no end in sight.

  After a while, Krew moved upright and sat on the edge of the bed. He plucked his clothes off the floor and began dressing. I slid off the other side and walked around to find my pants which had ended up on the far side of the room somehow. With my back turned, retrieving them from the floor, I felt Krew’s searing gaze, and I scowled over my shoulder, diverting his attention. But he couldn’t hide the look of remorse fast enough. Even after two years, he still got that damn look in his eyes when I allowed him to see too much skin. We really needed to keep the fucking light off when we fucked.

  “Rory?”

  “Don’t go there.”

  Without wasting another minute, I shuffled into my jeans and yanked them up my legs in irritation as I ducked out of the room. One fucking time. One fucking breakdown in front of Krew was all it had taken to dissolve the barrier I worked so hard to keep in place with almost everyone. There were times I considered it a good thing because it meant I had nothing to hide from him any longer and could be myself, but at other times, I caught sight of the man who felt sorry for me and pitied me, and I regretted ever having opened my mouth.

  In the living room, I pulled out a smoke and lit it before venturing into the kitchen to find another beer. The darkness was back. Ironic how I couldn’t stand the way it felt as it gnawed at my insides, yet, in the outside world, darkness was my saving grace and the only place I felt truly comfortable.

  I cracked the beer and took a hefty swallow. At the rate I was going, I’d be hard-pressed to get any work done later that night, and I had a few projects reaching deadlines which I couldn’t in good conscience put off any longer.

  Krew wandered from the bedroom a few minutes later and found me propped against the counter in the kitchen. He stole my beer from my hand and helped himself to a sip as he leaned beside me.

  “I found a place you could try.”

  “Stop. Don’t fucking do this again.”

  “Rory…”

  “Don’t.”

  I snatched my beer back only to have him pluck the smoke from my hand. The guy only ever smoked when he drank and then complained the following day that his mouth tasted like an ashtray.

  He drew hard, lighting up the end as he squinted through the pull. Holding the smoke in his lungs, he passed the cigarette back and shook his head disregarding my attempt to curb the conversation.

  “It’s not a psychologist. I know you can’t afford that shit. It’s a counseling center down on Pullman Dr. In their advertisement, they claim they offer twenty-four-hour services.”

  I pushed off the counter and returned to the living room and my ashtray. For as much as I liked Krew, his persistence in getting me into therapy was annoying as hell.

  “I’ll get you the number. You can at least check it out. Who knows, maybe they can help.”

  I dropped down on the couch and kicked my feet up on the coffee table. “Yeah, twenty-four-hour service in a brightly lit building. How is that going to help me exactly?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they do house calls.”

  I snorted and passed him an incredulous look. He’d lost his mind.

  “What? They might. You don’t know.”

  It didn’t matter where I’d looked in the past, it was the same everywhere. Psychologists cost a fortune. Psychiatrists, although covered under our provincial insurance, had waiting lists longer than my arm. As for nighttime house calls, it was like I was from a different dimension, and no one seemed to understand. Thanks for nothing. People like me weren’t supposed to get help, we were supposed to suffer until we got fed up enough we put a bullet through our brains. Believe me, I’d considered it more than once.

  Krew flopped on the couch beside me and declined when I offered him another hull off my smoke. That was the end of the conversation. Krew knew as well as I did t
hat the likelihood of what he suggested was slim to nil. Our city wasn’t equipped to deal with the likes of me. And I wasn’t prepared or able to uproot my life and relocate to a larger city where there might be more options.

  When my beer and smoke were finished, Krew nodded to the blank television. “Wanna junk out on a movie? They added a shit load of new thrillers on Netflix.”

  Krew loved scaring the piss out of himself, and ordinarily, I got a kick out of watching him. However, my mood had plummeted again, and I wasn’t feeling it. I shook my head as I stood. “Knock yourself out. I have to get some work done. Deadlines.”

  The heat of Krew’s gaze followed me as I went to my computer desk in the corner and flipped the power button. The monitor had a yellow screen protector that kept the intensity of the display to a minimum. Even so, I had the brightness turned down to a more tolerable level, so it didn’t affect me in any adverse way.

  Many years back, I’d taken up web design as a personal home business. I’d become quite successful, and the number of project offers I’d had lately were more than I could handle. It had required me to become picky and to work longer hours. Where bills and rent were concerned, it was a good little business. I certainly didn’t live the high life, but I’d managed to get by.

  I pulled up my current project and stared without seeing as the words and colors all blended together. The sedation caused by my recent orgasm was long dissolved, and Krew’s lingering suggestion rang through my head unwanted. I knew I was fucked up in the worst way, but chasing down help and begging doctors to do something was getting old. If the system didn’t give a fuck about me, why should I give a fuck about me?

  Lost in my head, I didn’t notice Krew come up behind me. Fingers climbed my neck and scratched through my hair, massaging into my scalp. I dropped my chin to my chest and allowed the attention. It was good but made me feel hollow at the same time. Krew was the best friend I had, but nowhere in my heart could I manage to make it anything more than what it was. We didn’t fit together like that. However, in those rare moments when he recognized my need for a tender touch and delivered, it grew an ache in my chest. The reality of my situation was; I would likely never know what it meant to be in love. A “friends with benefits” arrangement was probably the best I’d ever know.

  “You gonna be okay, sugar?”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled as his fingers slowed their journey and eventually fell to my shoulders.

  “Okay. I’m taking off then. I work tomorrow night, so I gotta get some sleep.”

  It was after five in the morning, and although Krew had crashed at my place on occasion in the past, he wasn’t in the habit of staying over. I wasn’t the best company most days, and I refused to share my bed with him outside fucking. Apparently, my couch was only so comfortable.

  I spun around to face him, and he moved back so I could stand. “Let me grab you some cash.”

  “Case of beer? Is that all you need?”

  “Maybe a few more packs of smokes,” I said as I searched up some money from my stash in a drawer in the kitchen.

  “No problem. I’ll come by Sunday night and drop it off. Text me when you’re awake. I’ll bring breakfast, too.”

  I grunted in response and shoved a few twenties in his hand while snaking the other around his body to grab his ass with a smirk. “On that note, we’re fresh outta condoms.”

  He chuckled and winked. “Done.”

  I swatted one of his perky globes as he walked to the door and found his shoes.

  “I’ll text you if I think of anything else.”

  “Oh,” he spun back just as he pulled the door open, “one more thing. Can I ask a teeny tiny favor?” He demonstrated how tiny using his thumb and finger.

  I frowned, knowing whatever it was, I wasn’t going to like it. “What?”

  He tsked and rolled his eyes. “Don’t growl before you know what I’m asking.”

  “Just ask.”

  He sighed and fluttered his eyes, playing heavily to his cuteness. It wouldn’t work on me, and he knew it. “Can you watch Samson for a few weeks?”

  I blanched and stared, unsure if I’d heard him right.

  “Please. They are repainting my apartment. I’m going to stay with Jed for a couple weeks, and he’s allergic to cats.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  He batted his eyes and pouted his lip, proving just how serious he was.

  Fuck!

  “Krew, seriously? I don’t know shit about cats. Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill it?”

  He huffed and waved me off as though it was the most ridiculous notion. “Cats are easy, babycakes. You just need to feed him every day and clean his litter.”

  I curled my nose and stared, waiting for Krew to realize the stupidity of his request and back down. He didn’t. He stared back with the most pathetic look of pleading on his face, and he knew for a fact I couldn’t say no. He never asked favors, and he did everything for me. Without Krew, I struggled. Bad.

  Fuck me!

  “Fine,” I gritted between teeth. “When?”

  He beamed and went up on his toes to kiss my cheek which I dodged with a scowl.

  “I’ll bring him by Sunday. It’s only for a couple of weeks. Thank you so much.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him he owed me one, but if we were counting IOUs, I was the one who had some serious catching up to do.

  Krew was gone in under a minute, and the encroaching darkness I’d been trying to escape from earlier in the night returned. Lately, no matter how occupied I kept my mind, the shadows found their way in, surrounding and suffocating me without warning.

  I scanned my apartment, a decent-sized one-bedroom with an open concept living space and separate kitchen. It sat in darkness most of the time unless Krew came by and insisted on turning on the few low lights I would allow. Since he was gone, I went around and clicked them off again. Morning was approaching, so I pulled the heavy, blackout curtains over all the windows and made sure they sat flush around the edges so minimal sunlight could find its way inside.

  Once I was satisfied the coming day wouldn’t disturb me, I returned to my computer to work for a couple of hours before bedtime.

  Chapter Two

  Adrian

  The traffic on Pullman Dr. zipped by in both directions as I stared at the three-story government building. Dark, tinted windows set into white stone glared back. It was ominous and not nearly as inviting as I expected a public facility to be. Logic said I had the job in the bag, but my pounding heart seemed to think differently.

  I adjusted my glasses and fixed the collar on my button-up, so it wasn’t being pressed down by the strap of my shoulder bag. The information I’d memorized and studied for my interview flooded my mind on an endless loop, refusing to be forgotten, in case I needed it that day as well. How many more questions could they possibly ask me? My GPA notwithstanding, I was fully qualified for the position which was more than I could say for over half the other applicants.

  Blowing out a breath, I worked to contain my nerves and crossed the street on the next green light. Second interviews weren’t given to just anybody. I’d nailed the initial interview, and among the twenty or so other people who’d applied, I didn’t know anyone else who’d made it to round two.

  I needed the job desperately. If I could accumulate enough money over the summer, I was hoping I could convince my father to let me move out of student housing and into my own apartment. It was a long shot, but I couldn’t fathom spending another minute bunking with the three men I’d been stuck living with for the past four years. The job was pinnacle to my career and to my sanity.

  With a Bachelor of Psychology under my belt, I was a logical choice for the opening position of mental health counselor. The counseling center was a government-run program which offered services to people who couldn’t afford a regular psychologist or ones who were in need of immediate intervention due to crisis. Often times, the clientele were also people who had been
mandated to seek help in order to continue to have custody of their children or to regain it again if it was already lost. Psychiatrist’s waiting lists were often extensive, and unless you fell into their lap due to extreme circumstances like attempted suicide, you were often shit out of luck. Psychologists weren’t covered at all, so unless you had a decent job with added benefits, once again, you were screwed. Unfortunately, the system wasn’t perfect, but the government center was there to bridge the gap when someone needed immediate help and was at risk of falling through the cracks.

  The front entrance was somewhat confusing if you were new to the building. There were various accommodations available under one roof including the government welfare office, unemployment services, subsidized housing, and more. I’d learned the first day I was there that the counseling sector was located on the third floor.

  I took the elevator on my right and exited for the second time that week into a small waiting room with a large reception desk in front of me. Bright fluorescent lights overhead reflected off of the stark white walls, making everything seem new. Behind the long desk was a large, open-spaced room sectioned off by individual cubicles. There was nothing glamorous about it. It was a bleak, harsh, cramped, and extremely stiff atmosphere—exactly like every other government building I’d seen in my life. But, it served its purpose.

  I let the woman behind the computer know I was there and found a seat in the waiting area. Neurotically checking to ensure I was put together, I tried not to fidget or work myself into a sweat. The last thing I wanted to do was walk into my second interview with armpit stains. If my roommates found out, I’d never hear the end of it.

  Dylan and Calvin had my stomach in a knot already that morning. After my first interview, I’d taken the bus home, and the heater had been cranked so high everyone on board was roasted alive by the time it made its routine stop on campus. I’d been swimming in a pool of sweat. The end of April breeze had done nothing to solve the issue during my short walk to the house. My roommates had taken one look at my saturated shirt and ribbed me endlessly. Never mind the cause, they fabricated their own story and ran with it. Because I was having a second interview, they’d rehashed it all before I’d left earlier, successfully adding stress to my already elevated nerves.