Into the Dark: A Monster Romance (The Devil's Claw Book 1), page 1
INTO THE DARK
A MONSTER ROMANCE
REECE BARDEN
Copyright © 2023 by Reece Barden
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
For the monster loving readers who are drawn to the darkness.
If you love the thrill of the chase, the rush of danger and the allure of the unknown, this one’s for you.
CONTENTS
A Word of Warning
Foreword
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
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Epilogue
Into the Night - Chapter 1
Into the Night - Chapter 2
Also by Reece Barden
About the Author
A WORD OF WARNING
This book is steamy. Not too dark but definitely 18+.
If you’re new to monster romance, be aware there will be different peens, fur, fangs, and a lot of fucking.
Profanity too. The odd unaliving. A bit of stalking.
Primal play is almost a given, and monsters can be a little dubious about consent sometimes.
This book also has a man who is extremely excited about putting a baby in our leading lady, so breeding kink too.
If any of the above are things that give you the ick or could be a trigger, this maybe not be the book for you. Feel free to contact me for more info before you dive in.
If all of this sounds intriguing or downright amazing, enjoy!!!
FOREWORD
As I’m an Irish writer, this book is written in British English.
That means there might be more u’s, double ll’s and a lot less z’s than you’re used to.
It’s different for some readers, but not wrong.
If you spot any pesky spelling mistakes that managed to sneak through the editing process and you’d like to let me know, you can contact me via www.reecebarden.com.
Or just contact me and let me know what you think of the book. I love to hear from readers!
Reece
xxx
CHAPTER 1
HOLLY
Thumping my fist hard against the steering wheel, I curse as my old truck coughs and sputters, before finally dying completely. I coast as far into the ditch as I dare, letting the truck roll to a stop. The engine gives one last death rattle and spews noxious smoke into the pitch-black night.
Leading from one tiny mountain town to another, this tiny, winding strip of road is endless, and there isn’t a street light or another car in sight. I’m close to my destination, Sutton, an isolated town where the father I’ve never met lives, but it doesn’t look like I’ll get there tonight.
Dipping my head to look out at the inky darkness, I know it’s way too dangerous to walk, especially when I don’t really know how much farther I have to go.
Since heading off into the woods on my own this late at night sounds like the beginning of a cliche horror movie, I resign myself to staying put. I don’t love the idea of an impromptu roadside camp out, so I force myself to be practical.
Reaching over, I pop open the glove box and pull out my flashlight and slip out of the truck. The bag I want is in the bed, and I pull out a sleeping bag, a fleece, and a hat, then rush to get back inside the cab. A shiver runs down my spine as something howls in the distance, and a gentle breeze rustles the leaves beside me.
The snap of a twig nearby makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and I freeze, waiting for something to emerge from the shadows.
You’re being ridiculous, I chastise, forcing myself to calm down and stop being so dramatic. Hopefully, someone will drive by. If not, it’s going to be a long night. It’s late spring, and while the temperatures are steadily rising elsewhere, I have no idea how low they’ll drop this far up the mountain.
I’m also not keen on having to wander into the woods to use the bathroom.
It's an hour later when a pair of headlights approaches from behind. Blinded as I squint into the rearview mirror, I wonder if hoping someone would drive by was a good idea after all. I’m a sitting duck. Nobody knows where I am.
Rushing to free my legs from the confines of the sleeping bag, I sigh with relief as a flash of blue and red assures me I’m not about to meet a serial killer. A tall man exits the vehicle and tucks his hat underneath his arm, and I roll down the window, waiting as he approaches.
“Evening, Ma’am, I’m Sheriff Golden, but you can call me Scott. We’re not real formal around here,” he’s polite, taking a quick look at my layers of clothing and the sleeping bag bundled on the passenger seat beside me. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he lays his gaze on me, raising an eyebrow. “Car trouble, or did you decide to camp here for the night?”
He pulls the hat out from under his elbow and dangles it between his fingers. His eyes twinkle, amused at my attempts to keep warm and bed down for the night.
When I don’t answer, he places one hand on the roof and nods his head at the mountain of snacks beside me, “At least you brought rations,” he chuckles.
The movement draws my attention to the way his muscular chest moves under the thin, neatly-pressed material of his uniform. Hot mama, this is one well put-together officer. His smile grows wider as I continue to stare mutely at him, as if I’ve never seen a handsome man before. It must be an occupational hazard with the way he fills out that uniform.
“Yes. Sorry, yes. I broke down, and I didn’t think it was safe to walk when I don’t know exactly where I am. Near Sutton, I hope, but other than that…” I drift off, aware that I’m rambling and glad for the darkness hiding my pink cheeks.
Smiling indulgently, he reaches in and takes the keys from the ignition of my truck. I look up at him and frown. Is he allowed to do that?
“Come on. I’ll run you into town. It’s not safe to sleep out here,” he mumbles darkly, looking up and down the deserted road.
Keeping my back to him, I say nothing. I know exactly what he means: three women have disappeared in and around Sutton in the last three years. Investigations yielded no suspects, which means there is someone potentially very dangerous stalking women in this town.
As if to emphasise his point, something snaps a branch not too far away, the proximity making me jump. This place is creepy.
I bundle a few essentials into a small bag – a change of clothes, my wallet, some cash, and a toothbrush. Scott looks confused and irritated. He’s probably in a hurry and has better things to do than run a taxi service for stranded tourists.
“I’ll just grab enough for tonight,” I explain, feeling the need to justify myself. He nods politely, smiling, but somehow, he still manages to look unimpressed. When he catches me looking, he holds out a hand to take my bag. His eyes are such a pale blue, they’re captivating.
It’s hard to see his face clearly, but what I can tell is that he’s handsome, in a boy-next-door kind of way. He’s all pearly white teeth and perfect, sandy blond hair: the all-American hero, here to rescue the damsel in distress.
He locks the door and pockets my keys just as a set of bright lights approaches us from head on.
“What are you doing?” I ask, but my rescuer curses and ignores me, watching with hands on his hips as a giant recovery truck pulls in front of mine.
“Scott,” a deep voice rumbles, spitting the word with clear disdain as a pair of heavy boots hit the ground with a thud.
“King,” Scott replies with equal scorn, his charming façade slipping. The tension in the air is palpable. These guys clearly hate each other's guts. “What are you doing out here?”
“Someone reported a breakdown. Figured I’d check it out.”
Someone reported a bre akdown? I’ve been sitting here for an hour and haven’t seen another soul. Maybe someone saw me here. The thought makes me shudder, and I glance over my shoulder at the eerie forest.
Despite his words creeping me out, his voice is low and gravelly, and I itch to see the man it belongs to. It sounds like sex and sin in one devastating package, but I can’t see King’s face. All I can see is the outline of his massive frame, backlit by his headlamps as he moves closer.
“You want me to take your vehicle and have a look at it in the morning?”
Even though I can’t see his eyes, I can feel them burning into my face, making me feel flustered. He rubs his hands together impatiently, and the sound is like sandpaper, rough and scratchy.
“Em… I’m not sure,” I admit, looking at Scott over my shoulder for guidance, but he’s busy glaring at King. With an exasperated sigh, King steps forward.
“Let me make it easier for you. I have the only tow truck and garage in Sutton. So, your options are limited - as in, you have none.” His voice drips with scorn, like he’s already run out of patience, even though I’ve only said a few words to him.
I scowl; if I didn’t need his help, I’d tell him where to shove it. He might be right, but he doesn’t have to be so rude about it. Another distant howl, though, makes me much more compliant, and I nod, eager to get out of here.
King stares into the pitch-black forest, jaw clenched. He says nothing, he just holds out his hand expectantly, gesturing with long fingers for me to hand over my keys. His brow quirks, surprised when Scott steps forward and drops them into my own outstretched palm. Turning, I hold them out to King, and he smirks at Scott.
King’s fingers brush mine as he grabs the keys, and a jolt of static makes me gasp as his eyes flash to mine. I’m lost in bottomless black pools as he stares at me intensely. My entire body awakens as I’m trapped by his gaze, my vision tunnelling and everything around us melts away.
Scott clears his throat and King straightens, the spell broken.
“Any time tonight would be great.”
Averting his eyes, King looks over my shoulder at the sheriff, who’s acting properly annoyed now instead of just irritated. King storms back to his tow truck without a backward glance.
“I’ll drop her in Sutton,” Scott snaps at King’s retreating back, then stalks away, climbing behind the wheel of his own vehicle. I follow the sheriff, glancing back to see King haul his hulking frame into his seat. Pinning me with another long stare, his eyes narrow, and his brows draw down in a frown before the truck roars to life.
Finally, King looks away with a shake of his head, throwing one arm over the seat beside him as he swivels to reverse the beast of a truck closer to my own. Gripping the headrest, he competently manoeuvres the huge vehicle off the road and parks in front of mine. He jumps down and drags large, heavy chains off the bed with unnerving ease.
“So…” I stand there awkwardly while he works, watching how the muscles in his back flex and ripple underneath his thin, grey t-shirt.
“I’ll find you,” he snarls, and then sighs when he sees my confused face. “The Claw, the bar in town, is mine too. You can get me there if you need to, but I’ll let you know when it’s fixed.”
He continues hooking up my truck, enormous arms bulging and flexing, but a door slamming loudly drags my focus back to Scott. Time to go before my lift leaves without me–I have a feeling King wouldn’t be pleased to have an unexpected passenger. He’d probably make me walk.
“Right, coming!” I scurry after Scott, sliding into the passenger seat. As we pull off and drive by, King barely lifts his eyes from his task. Scott shifts in his seat, fingers drumming on the leather steering wheel. Sighing, he briefly glances my way before returning his eyes to the road.
“I know I can’t tell you what to do, but I’d stay away from King,” Scott warns, wearily rubbing a hand over his chin. “He’s trouble. Take my advice and steer clear, okay?”
Trouble? Wide-eyed, I stare at the sheriff then lean forward to catch one last glimpse of King before the dense trees obscure my view. Scott isn’t really implying… that King was a suspect, is he?
My throat is dry as I swallow hard. Despite myself, and even though King seems pissed-off by my very existence, I’m intrigued.
CHAPTER 2
HOLLY
Scott continues to look conflicted as he drives us toward town, a frown marring his handsome face. Eventually, he scrubs a hand back through his tousled hair and looks at me.
“I don’t want you to think you’re not safe here in Sutton. You are. Of the three girls who went missing, we’re pretty certain we know what happened to two of them. The last girl, well, we think someone took her, and until we can put that person away, you can’t be too careful.”
His lips are set into a thin line, his broad shoulders rigid. I’d imagine, working in law enforcement, especially in a small, close-knit village, an unsolved case like this would weigh heavily on a man in his position. The pressure must be immense.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I will. I have no desire to put myself in danger. That's not why I’m here.
My ready agreement seems to appease him, and he relaxes, that Hollywood smile back on display. Leaning back in my seat, I gaze out the window at the dark woods, and my mind drifts back to King. The brooding mechanic. If Scott suspects him, how frustrating must it be to have him living in town and not be able to do anything about it?
Is that why he hates him?
Surely King wouldn’t be able to run a business in a small place like this if everyone thought the same. People talk. Even if they couldn’t prove it, he’d be a pariah.
“So, how long are you in town?” Scott lightens the mood, slipping into casual small talk as he drives the winding back roads with ease.
“Not sure yet. I’m between jobs and at a loose end. A few weeks, maybe.”
It’s vague and non-committal, but if Scott thinks it’s odd, he doesn’t comment. He nods and smiles, not pushing me for a proper answer.
“I don’t think there’s a few weeks’ worth of sights to see in Sutton, but it should be quiet if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“That’s exactly what I need.”
Somehow, though, I don’t think that’s what I’ll get. I didn’t choose to come to a town sporting three missing women for a relaxing break.
Scott turns down what appears to be Sutton's main street, which is, in reality, a short strip of road flanked by single-story, wooden buildings. It was probably quaint twenty years ago, but the dated shop fronts could do with a refresh.
The few dim street lights offer little light to see, but I can make out a general store, a diner, and what looks like a small hardware store at the end of the road. A café and a hiking supply store sit opposite, but what catches my eye is the backlit sign for The Devil’s Claw. That must be King’s bar.
A faint, warm glow filters through the windows, making it look cosy and welcoming on a chilly night like tonight. The door swings open as a patron leaves, and I get a glimpse of the rustic wooden interior as we cruise slowly by.
“It’s not fancy. Actually, it's a dive, but there’s no alternative. If you want a drink, the Claw is the place to go.”
