Dark of kNight

Dark of kNight

By

T.L Mitchell

kNight Romance Publishing

knightromancepublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
.

kNight Romance Publishing

Bedford, Virginia

Copyright © by T.L. Mitchell 2009

ISBN-13: 9780982918609

ISBN-10: 0982918607

First Edition AuthorHouse 2009, Second Edition 2009 Wild Horse Press

Third Edition: kNight Romance Publishing

http://www.knightromancepublishing.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

Cover artist Dara England

Editor Gateway Editorial Services

“
I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who overcomes his enemies.”

Aristotle,
In Stobaeus, Florilegium

I knew one day I would reach this place in my life; I just didn’t realize it would be so soon. Love, I suppose, has no rules and yields to no boundaries. Never knowing when it will strike.

Never before would I have imagined I could love someone as deeply as I love him. I would fight for him. I would die for him. This is what I believe. This is the Lycan way.

Yes, I could say I love this man more than my own life. It was odd that I would fall in love with someone who needed me as much as I needed him.

My world as I knew it stopped when my father died. I wasn’t ready to lose anyone else again. I couldn’t bear the loss of the one who is so dear to my heart. He is my angel and my love. If I were to lose him, then my life would end. I knew I would die.

I stood in the rose garden, admiring a beautiful pure white rose who stood out among the rest. Her name was Peace. Never before had I seen such a delicate rose. Her scent was by far more fragrant than her neighboring roses, drawing me in like the scent of my lover.

The fog settled down upon the ground, flowing silently through the rose garden. I reached my hand through the fog to collect my prize. To collect my peace.

ONE

Grief is an intense sorrow and immense sadness especially because of a death
.
Was this the feeling I was having this very minute? Still holding the cell phone to my head, I was breathless. The dull feeling that ran down my spine into every nerve ending within my body demanded total control. My body, mind and emotions yielded to the control of this numbing power. A solid brick wall blocked the waves of nerves and emotions in my body. My heart pounded loudly, commanding respect from this new rush of control my mind demanded.

“Julie? Julie?” I couldn’t speak, fearing the control of the numbing power. My eyes blankly stared at the television, watching the colors and images, but I had no comprehension of the subject.

“Julie!” The voice drew me back to the reluctant reality I dared not accept. The reality, which told me that my father had just died, and I needed to return home immediately.

My choice would have been to hear something familiar like,
“Your father is doing just great. He would love to see you.”
The
true
reality was I would never hear those words again.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Look, dear, I have made all the arrangements for you. The next flight is in three hours. I will have someone to pick you up at the airport when you land. Do not worry about a thing. Everything is going to be all right.” The voice of Thomas Maxwell firmly stated.

My father’s best friend and business partner for over twenty-five years had no emotion in his voice. Thomas stood beside my father through thick and thin. For my own reasons, I never trusted him. Thomas was a man of great influence and stature. I guess since he was one of the best attorneys money could buy, proving his worth when he walked into a courtroom appeared effortless to him. His mere presence changed the atmosphere in the courtroom, primarily showing he was the epitome of power and control.

His air of arrogance made me wince whenever I was in the same room with him.

“I… I understand. I will be there. Thomas,” I took a deep breath, “what happened?”

“This is not the proper time to go over it, Jewels.” The strain in his voice unnerved me.

“I want to know,” I replied sharply.

“We were on a hunting trip. It was an animal attack. I am not going to cover the details at this time, but by the time we reached him it was too late.” His voice broke off in a soft sound of remorse.
Animal attack
, the words lingered through my mind.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I flipped the phone closed and sat motionless until the sickness in the pit of my stomach was calm. Slowly standing, I forced myself to the closet.

I grabbed the suitcase from the top shelf and started throwing clothes into it. At that point, I didn’t care if it was neatly packed. I grabbed anything I may need and tried to place it in the one large bag.

My thoughts ran wild, haunting and terrifying images clouded my mind. The heart inside me pulled in different directions as I thought of my father. The only choice that remained was to go back home to Spring Place. The old saying is there is no place like home. I wasn’t sure the statement held true for me anymore.

Spring Place is a small little town about eight miles from Dalton, Georgia and approximately thirty miles from Chattanooga, Tennessee. The backdrop of this small town is the beautiful Appalachian Mountains and lush woodlands of the Chattahoochee National Forest. The main attraction has always been the Fort Mountain located in the Chattahoochee National Forest close to the Cohutta Wilderness area. The legends and myths surrounding the mysterious 855-foot long rock wall attracted a fair share of visitors over the years.

My father, the renowned plastic surgeon Dr. Martin Knight, was my world and the best father that a girl could have. He was always supportive, even when I decided to attend college in Virginia rather than Georgia. I needed the change. The change I needed wasn’t from my father, but from his shadow. Living a life as Dr. Martin Knight’s daughter had its challenges. Growing up in wealth wasn’t as easy as most people believed. All I ever wanted was to be normal. Moving to another state where no one knew me gave me the chance to be just another girl. I wanted to make my way through life without the favors, which were due to my father.

In my heart, I couldn’t accept the truth that my father was dead. He couldn’t die, not my father. He was the only person I had. Fear and emotions ran spasms through my heart.

Tears welled into my eyes as I slammed the suitcase shut. I took a deep breath and pulled the pain back, forcing it into my own little “Pandora‘s Box”, where it could be controlled and managed.

Surprisingly, our relationship had always been close. I was probably the only girl in high school whose girlfriends would rather come over and visit her father rather than her.

All my friends thought he was cool and ever so handsome, in a Harrison Ford type of way. They were all in awe of his appearance, despite the fact he was twenty years their senior. Dad loved it. He had become a regular ladies’ man in his own eyes, senior idol as I called it.

Martin’s popularity wasn’t only with the women. His biggest prize came when he discovered a new technique that reduced scar tissue to a minimum. Several years ago, a family brought their daughter to my father seeking help. A wild animal attacked her while she was biking in the Chattahoochee National Forest. The attack left her disfigured.

After a few surgeries, the girl’s face had returned to normal. There was no visible scarring left. Dad’s career as a plastic surgeon exploded. He became the most sought after plastic surgeon in the southeastern part of the United States. People from all over came to him for different reasons. Some people had severe disfigurations and others for their own vanity. No matter what the case, each person was satisfied with the results.

Still lost in my thoughts, I made my way through the crowded Atlanta airport. My thoughts kept me preoccupied most of the trip, vaguely remembering if the plane ride was smooth or not. In some small way, happiness filled my heart to see my friends and extended family.

Returning home to Spring Place would normally be a nice retreat from the college life in Virginia. It was nice in Virginia. The mountains and the view of the Blue Ridge Parkway in the fall are exceptionally pleasant. The beautiful kaleidoscopes of fall colors in the mountains are as breathtaking as the ones back home. City smog or even salty sea air of the beaches is no match for the smell of the fresh clean mountainous air. No, it’s not bad in Virginia, but there is no place like home.

“Julie! Julie!” I heard a voice through the crowd of people walking through the airport.

Looking in the direction of the voice, I saw a familiar face. Casey Maxwell, her hand raised and waving in the air. She looked great. Her long blond hair accented her tall slender and tanned body well. I waved back and headed toward her through the crowd. Casey had always been my best friend. We grew up together here. It was good to see her.

“Hey.” I embraced her welcoming arms.

“Hey… ” Her arms wrapped around me tightly. “Dad arranged for a limo to pick you up.”

“Casey… .” When I sighed, her perky voice cut me off before I had the chance to protest.

“I know, I told him you would be pissed. So I convinced him I’d pick you up.”

“How’d you do that? You know how Thomas does everything.”

“Yeah, I told him I’d join you in Virginia this fall for my last semester in college. He threw a fit and told me which plane you were on, and what time to pick you up.”

“Ha!” I found that very amusing. “The only attorney I know that has never lost a case except to his own daughter.” We both laughed as I managed to find my suitcase.

July and Georgia hot summer days go hand in hand. The temperature hovered close to ninety-eight degrees. I’d forgotten how warm it could be in Atlanta in the middle of July. I heard the
beep-beep
of a car alarm and noticed the new set of keys in Casey’s hand. Nice, I thought. What did she have to do to get this one? A brand new black Mercedes Benz AMG55 two-door convertible, just Casey‘s style, waited for us in the parking garage. I looked at her and rolled my eyes.

“So when did you get this?” I rested back into the fresh smelling leather seat.

“Last week. Dad bought it as an early graduation present. Like it?”

“Yes, it’s nice.”

“Jewels, I’m really sorry about your Dad. You know...”

I cut her off in mid-sentence.

“Thanks, Casey, but I really can’t talk about this right now. Okay?” I preferred not let my hopes go. Not just yet. “How’s Charlotte?”

“Mom’s doing fine.” Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “She says you’ll stay with us.”

It sounded like more of a dictate than a request. I glanced at her and tried to smile. I loved them dearly, but I really wanted to be by myself.

“No, I want to stay at the house,” I pleaded. My eyes traveled down then I looked toward the front of the car.

“But, Dad said...”

“Casey, I really want to stay at the house.”

“Then, I’ll stay with you.” Her pink shiny lips parted in a smile showing off her perfectly beautiful white teeth. She reached over and patted me on my knee. “You are my best friend and the closest thing I have to a sister. You are family, remember?”

“Yes, I know.” Our families were close and we had always been together. The Maxwell family became my father‘s largest supporter when my mother died in childbirth.

Charlotte spent as much time helping my Dad with me as she did with her own newborn Casey. Throughout the years, Casey and I were inseparable. The statement held very true especially when our fathers decided to go on their trips. For the most part, I would spend a few weeks with Casey, being spoiled by her mother and abused by her obnoxious older brother.