Wild Darkness: Paranormal MF BDSM Romance (Wolves on the Prowl Book 4) by Michele Bardsley
Authors: Michele Bardsley
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Wild Darkness
Wolves on the Prowl #4
R ONI MOORE TOOK her coat from the plastic hook and shouldered her large purse. It had been another boring night shift at the Stop ‘N Shop, a twenty-four-hour grocery store just blocks away from her apartment. Even though it wasn’t the safest area of town, she’d never had any problems. Maybe it was because the drug dealers and hookers recognized her now, and knew she was broke. She smiled grimly. More like she was broken.
This is my life now . She tried to drum up gratitude. She was alive, and that was a miracle. She wanted to find some joy, she really did. When she’d first gotten free of Graham, every day was filled with beauty. Every dollar she earned was a source of pride. More than a year had passed, and she was still here, marching in place, wondering when things would get better.
Maybe all she’d get was the one-bedroom apartment with its mold-laced windows and bad plumbing; the mind-numbing job with its leering boss and small paycheck; the lonely nights that started with microwave meals and ended with falling asleep in front of the television.
Roni was thirty-three, and her body, though it had never borne children, was more rounded these days, no doubt from her addiction to chocolate mint ice cream.
“Hey.”
She looked up and saw Johnny Sanderson. He was tall with the lean build of a runner. He had shaggy brown hair, and hazel eyes hidden behind thick glasses. She’d pegged him in his late twenties, and he was a perpetual student at the local university. He said he wanted an art degree, and she’d seen some of his sketches. He was good. He didn’t seem to care that he was a bag boy working overnight shifts. He was cute, and kind-hearted. Still, she’d ignored the flutter of attraction. She didn’t trust her judgment about men any more -- and maybe she never would again.
She’d often wondered about the unusual paleness of Johnny’s skin, and his lack of appetite. She’d never seen him eat anything. Then again, food was her comfort, and maybe she was paying a little too much attention to the gustatory habits of others.
Was she really that bored?
“You want me to walk you home?” he asked.
“Your shift’s starting.”
“Not yet.” He pulled off his glasses and blinked at her owlishly. Was it her imagination or did his eyes seem odd? The irises looked narrow, like those of a cat. “This neighborhood isn’t safe. I worry about you.”
That surprised her. “You do?”
“You’re nice. And… you know.”
She waited for him to continue, but he kept blinking at her, and she realized he was done speaking. She smiled. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”
He nodded, plopped his glasses back on, and turned toward his locker.
Sighing, Roni left the back room and headed toward the front glass doors. She waved good-bye to her replacement, Ann, and then tucked her head down into the upturned collar of her threadbare coat.
She walked briskly down the street. Most of the action was on the other side, where the pawnshop, adult bookstore, and auto repair business (AKA chop shop) were located. Five minutes later, she entered the rusted gates of The Golden Cloverleaf Apartments. Long ago, this part of town belonged to the wealthy. The place used to be one of those glorious mansions with landscaped gardens, marble statues, and in the back, an actual hedge maze. It had all gone to rot and ruin, but Roni liked to imagine it as it once was.
Now the manse was sixteen rundown apartments, ten upstairs and six down.
She lived on the bottom floor, in the back behind the grand staircase. At 3 a.m., it was quiet. She liked the night, the stillness of it. The darkness didn’t bother her. She’d faced a real monster, and survived. Very little scared her anymore.
“Roni.” Mac Braden sat on the bottom stair, rising when he saw her enter the lobby. “How you doin’, doll?”
“Fine.” She fished inside her purse and pulled out a Snickers. “For you.”
He grinned as
Wolves on the Prowl #4
R ONI MOORE TOOK her coat from the plastic hook and shouldered her large purse. It had been another boring night shift at the Stop ‘N Shop, a twenty-four-hour grocery store just blocks away from her apartment. Even though it wasn’t the safest area of town, she’d never had any problems. Maybe it was because the drug dealers and hookers recognized her now, and knew she was broke. She smiled grimly. More like she was broken.
This is my life now . She tried to drum up gratitude. She was alive, and that was a miracle. She wanted to find some joy, she really did. When she’d first gotten free of Graham, every day was filled with beauty. Every dollar she earned was a source of pride. More than a year had passed, and she was still here, marching in place, wondering when things would get better.
Maybe all she’d get was the one-bedroom apartment with its mold-laced windows and bad plumbing; the mind-numbing job with its leering boss and small paycheck; the lonely nights that started with microwave meals and ended with falling asleep in front of the television.
Roni was thirty-three, and her body, though it had never borne children, was more rounded these days, no doubt from her addiction to chocolate mint ice cream.
“Hey.”
She looked up and saw Johnny Sanderson. He was tall with the lean build of a runner. He had shaggy brown hair, and hazel eyes hidden behind thick glasses. She’d pegged him in his late twenties, and he was a perpetual student at the local university. He said he wanted an art degree, and she’d seen some of his sketches. He was good. He didn’t seem to care that he was a bag boy working overnight shifts. He was cute, and kind-hearted. Still, she’d ignored the flutter of attraction. She didn’t trust her judgment about men any more -- and maybe she never would again.
She’d often wondered about the unusual paleness of Johnny’s skin, and his lack of appetite. She’d never seen him eat anything. Then again, food was her comfort, and maybe she was paying a little too much attention to the gustatory habits of others.
Was she really that bored?
“You want me to walk you home?” he asked.
“Your shift’s starting.”
“Not yet.” He pulled off his glasses and blinked at her owlishly. Was it her imagination or did his eyes seem odd? The irises looked narrow, like those of a cat. “This neighborhood isn’t safe. I worry about you.”
That surprised her. “You do?”
“You’re nice. And… you know.”
She waited for him to continue, but he kept blinking at her, and she realized he was done speaking. She smiled. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”
He nodded, plopped his glasses back on, and turned toward his locker.
Sighing, Roni left the back room and headed toward the front glass doors. She waved good-bye to her replacement, Ann, and then tucked her head down into the upturned collar of her threadbare coat.
She walked briskly down the street. Most of the action was on the other side, where the pawnshop, adult bookstore, and auto repair business (AKA chop shop) were located. Five minutes later, she entered the rusted gates of The Golden Cloverleaf Apartments. Long ago, this part of town belonged to the wealthy. The place used to be one of those glorious mansions with landscaped gardens, marble statues, and in the back, an actual hedge maze. It had all gone to rot and ruin, but Roni liked to imagine it as it once was.
Now the manse was sixteen rundown apartments, ten upstairs and six down.
She lived on the bottom floor, in the back behind the grand staircase. At 3 a.m., it was quiet. She liked the night, the stillness of it. The darkness didn’t bother her. She’d faced a real monster, and survived. Very little scared her anymore.
“Roni.” Mac Braden sat on the bottom stair, rising when he saw her enter the lobby. “How you doin’, doll?”
“Fine.” She fished inside her purse and pulled out a Snickers. “For you.”
He grinned as
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