Love Begins in Hell (The Moon Journals: Part 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  LOVE BEGINS IN HELL

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the Author

  Excerpt from “The Vampire from Hell (Part 1) – The Beginning”

  LOVE BEGINS IN HELL

  (The Moon Journals: Part 1)

  By Ally Thomas

  Copyright 2013 Ally Thomas

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover design by Ally Thomas

  Ebook Formatting by Ally Thomas

  Published by Smashwords

  SMASHWORDS Edition

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the author’s website and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. They are not to be construed as real, nor used in other works of fiction without written consent by the authors.

  Content Disclaimer

  As a YA paranormal romance, the content of this story is meant to be for Young Adult and New Adult audiences.

  Table of Contents

  LOVE BEGINS IN HELL

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the Author

  Excerpt from “The Vampire from Hell (Part 1) – The Beginning”

  LOVE BEGINS IN HELL

  (The Moon Journals: Part 1)

  By Ally Thomas

  Introduction

  For some of my friends who are fans of the Fang, love begins when they least expect it. They don’t plan to fall in love. It just happens. That’s probably how it’s for all creatures, vampires, witches, humans, werewolves. That’s the way I think of it. For me, that’s how it happened too. What’s wrong with that you may ask? Girl meets guy. Girl falls in love with guy. Girl lives happily-ever-after with guy. That’s how it works, right?

  In my case, I fell in love…with the bad guy. However, I should say that I don’t consider Dante a bad guy. I never have. Did I mention I’m a werewolf and Dante’s a demon? I’m awful with introductions, so I’ll start with this. My name is Elana. I’m twenty-one-years old. And I’m a werewolf, of the Chosen I should add. I’ll explain that soon. Don’t worry. Oh and I need to tell you too, Dante and I met in Hell. Try that on for size. Okay. I should probably get this laid out for you. At the time I started these journals, I had just turned 18. I met Dante on my birthday. Here’s how our romance began…

  ~elana

  Chapter 1

  In the Closet

  The minute I woke up, I knew I was alone. For how long I had been alone, I didn’t know. “Move, Elana. Move,” I thought to myself. Cold steel stung my naked flesh, and I realized I was no longer at the party. I was in a cage. I opened the door and wiggled my way out, pulling my long flowing dress with me and ripping it on the cage. Who had put me in a cage? And where was I?

  I remembered I was at the Garden party, trying to be social. A bartender with a funny looking red hat and a face full of piercings had handed me a cup of punch. Noticing that his nose ring and stud in his lip seemed out of place to me. As a result, I had spilled the punch on the $1000 dollar azure Mori Lou Paparazzi gown my stepmother had bought for me. The stain was still there, covering a section of ruffles along my hips and the side of the sequin-trimmed bodice. Oddly it didn’t matter that my dress was ruined. It would matter to my stepmother, but I didn’t care. The more I could piss her off, the better, I thought as I smoothed out the torn ruffles. The dress was ruined. I hated wearing dresses, almost as much as I hated going to my father’s countless parties in the Garden. I had decided to go to this last one because it was my eighteenth birthday and I was determined to run away so I could search for my sister and aunt who had gone missing from the Garden weeks ago.

  Pushing my family drama problems to the back of my mind, I observed my current surroundings instead. The room was sparsely decorated with only a few items positioned about strategically. The enormity of the room halted me in my tracks as I searched around. A square dining table that doubled as a writing desk and nightstand was shoved up against the wall next to the largest Victorian four-poster bed I had ever seen. A pile of books and papers was scattered on the table amid a few small cobalt blue glass bottles, bowls, and ceramic cups. Almost touching the seven-foot-tall wooden ceiling, the bed was made of the same red mahogany wood and had a green velvet bedspread and curtains lined with gold tassels. The bed stood on a plush forest green and tan rug that peeked a few feet out from beneath the huge bed. Clearly a guy had decorated this room, but what kind of man? A giant?

  When I heard voices in the other room, I dove into the closet. Weapons, I thought. What can I use as a weapon? I stood frozen in fear, contemplating and questioning my every move. How was I going to get out of this place? My hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Control, Elana. Get control of yourself.

  Standing in the closet, I realized its enormous size too. It had to be the size of a large hallway and my 5’ 6” frame fit nicely in the narrow passage. A large chest of drawers stood before me as I put my back to the closet door. I searched through each drawer, hoping to discover something useful, and then suddenly felt cold steel. These will do.

  Finding the knives gave me strength, but hearing voices from the other room greatly worried me. It was like both male voices were right outside the closet door. My werewolf hearing immediately tuned in to their voices. I couldn’t resist as I listened in.

  ***

  “Who is that girl in my room?”

  “She’s your new pet. It’s time you train a werewolf to be your pet. We need more hellhounds as the Season of the Games nears,” the raspy voice replied.

  “I don’t need a pet, Father.”

  “I handpicked her for you, my boy. I thought you’d be grateful.”

  “I won’t play in your games.”

  “Oh yes, you will,” the raspy voice snapped.

  “Dante, my boy, I snagged a pure werewolf. It was so simple. In my disguise I dreamed up – not this of course – I was a … Well, never mind. Anyways she came right up to me. It was so easy.”

  “Not the garden trick again? Tell me you cleared this with one of your brothers.

  “Nope. Didn’t need to.

  A roar of laughter from the raspy-voiced creature sent shivers down my spine. Oh no, I thought. This was real. I had been tricked by a demon. I had to find my way out of here immediately.

  The man with the kind voice began again. “I realize Beelzebub is busy, but you at least notified Leviathan about this. Didn’t you? You can’t keep kidnapping wolves like this!”

  “No.” A loud thud came from the room and I jerked suddenly, forgetting for a moment that I was hiding behind a closed door. The men were related, but did not seem to get along at all.

  “Honestly where is your spirit of
adventure? You’re a pale-face hybrid. Plain as vanilla. With no imagination. Why did I get such a useless son?”

  “You don’t have to make this personal, Father. I may be a lesser demon, but my mother was not. She was a sorceress.”

  “No, she wasn’t. She was crazy, same as you. I will not tolerate your backtalk.”

  Another loud crash blasted through the room. I held two of the knives tightly in each hand, pointing each at the door, ready for any danger. I glared at the door, seeing only slivers of dim light coming from the outer room. The closet was my fortress of protection. It couldn’t be true. The stories my aunt had told me about members of our pack being kidnapped by demons, for centuries, being snatched from the Garden to then serve in Hell. Hellhounds they were retrained and called, she said. And the pack forgot them forever, like they never existed. Was I now a casualty, dragged down to Hell, never to return to my family?

  “I keep the peace here. I don’t need you kidnapping wolves from the Maker’s Garden What if she’s a chosen one and the Moon Goddess comes for her? You risk all our lives, Father!”

  “You are such a dumb brute,” the raspy voice said. “No one will care that she’s missing. And no one has seen the Moon Goddess in centuries. She, and the Maker, don’t exist anymore. That’s a myth the Werewolf King came up with to protect the Garden. It’s a bunch of crap. They can’t keep us out, and I proved that today. The Garden has no one protecting it. The Moon Goddess is gone. And when I add her to my collection of skulls on my wall, why my brothers will be proud of my trophies. Wait until they hear about this!”

  “You’ve taken leave of your senses.” The kinder-voiced man yelled back, losing his patience. The anger in his voice was easy to detect. I stood like a statue in the closet, mesmerized by the two men, or demons I guessed, arguing. My fate and future was being decided without any input from me. I wanted to summon the courage to quietly exit the closet, and perhaps move closer to the outer door. But my fear paralyzed me.

  When I heard another slamming of a door, I realized someone was in the room with me. It was a good thing I had remained where I was. The demon’s declaration of my being dead soon assaulted my senses. I prayed the raspy-voiced demon was not the individual on the other side of the closet. I hadn’t used my fighting skills in a long time and I knew I was rusty. I remained frozen in fear, waiting for the next sound to present itself.

  Chapter 2

  Demon Enters

  As the large figure came into view, I exited the closet, took aim and threw the first knife of several across the room. I stood behind the massive bed, using it as a bunker. This demon was not going to take me alive.

  The figure grunted, slumping slightly to the ground.

  I heard the weapon I had thrown at him fall to the floor.

  My aim was bad and had not found the demon’s heart. I was at a great disadvantage. “You stay back, demon!” I shouted, hoping to sound far more threatening than I’m sure I appeared to be. “I’ve got more where that came from!” I was maybe one hundred pounds. Cold, scared, and weak from hunger, I was half of that I was sure. Or at least I felt like that. Adrenaline and self-preservation would have to see me through.

  “Do your worst,” the tall figure announced. “However, I’d like to ask if I may turn on a few lights before you continue your attack. If you don’t mind?”

  He mocked me, which should have infuriated me even more, but I held my position and watched as he illuminated the room. He flipped a few switches by the door frame, and the room took on a blue hue as if it had been bathed in the soft, gentle lights from beneath the sea.

  I looked up at the ceiling just as the wooden beams filed away to two corners. “How did you do that?” I gasped, forgetting my defensive stance all together.

  “I can’t handle fluorescent lighting, so I had these installed. Blue and green are my favorite colors actually, even though I wear a lot of black. Here let me show you one more thing. I just had this done.”

  He raised his well-toned arm upwards and pressed a button at the top of the door frame.

  I blinked my eyes several times, getting used to the various colors I saw forming on the ceiling. An image was being constructed.

  The lighted design was magnificent and astounded me. A variety of shades of blue, green, and purple illuminated behind the picture of a fierce dragon. The dragon, with its head held high and proud, stood on a set of rocks jutting out from the edge of a cliff. A strong image of a strong creature preparing for battle. Why would a demon have such an image promoting such a great warrior animal like the dragon fashioned on the ceiling of his bedroom? It didn’t make sense.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it. Is that you?”

  “More or less. My friend, Orlando created it and installed it for me. I’m not really an admirer of art or paintings. I’m more interested in books, mythology really, but Orlando thought this would dress up my bedroom. I mainly like it for the quiet motivation it gives me. Each day is a test and it challenges me to focus on what is important. It helps me remember, despite everything, who I could one day become.”

  “A dragon?” I blurted out. “Surely you don’t mean that. You’re a demon.” I had never heard of demons being shapeshifters. This guy had as much chance of shifting into a dragon as I did of shifting into a bar of chocolate.

  Instantly he crossed the room towards me. He had his large hands wrapped around my elbows before I could grab another knife. I was pinned against his solid chest. The minute our eyes met, a bolt of lightning felt like it had ricocheted through my body. My eyes widened as he let me go and I wrapped my arms tightly around my body, so I wouldn’t fall. He staggered for a moment too as if he’d been hit by the same burst of energy.

  The immediate recognition of a soul mate was something that did not occur outside the pack. It had to be a mistake. But was it? It felt so real. In that second, I re-evaluated my course of action.

  “I’m not a demon. I’m a warrior,” he replied as he put some distance between us. “My mother is human, so I’m only half-demon.” He retreated to the table and sat down. He remained quiet for some time. Finally he added, “If you must know, I prefer to be called a warrior above all else.”

  I thought about asking a second question like ‘Who kidnapped me?’ but I remained silent. It didn’t really matter as long as I found my sister and aunt, and we made it out. They had been missing for weeks. I had heard of a demon mating with a human and bearing a shape-shifting child, but I didn’t think it was possible. Just a myth. Werewolves were the only shape-shifters I knew of. My disbelief in his dragon warrior dream seemed to have gravely offended him, and I didn’t want to upset him again. Instead, I wanted to comfort him. Why would I want to do that? He was the enemy. I opted to be nice. My sassy attitude would get me nowhere with him.

  “I like the ceiling painting,” I offered.

  “Thank you. It’s very nice, isn’t it?”

  “Do you have a name?” I abruptly stopped before I insulted him again.

  “Dante.”

  I waited for him to ask my name. He studied the table instead.

  “I’m Elana.”

  “Elana.” He repeated my name slowly and carefully as if it was a foreign word he didn’t want to forget.

  “Your name is very unique.” A few compliments couldn’t hurt. “What does Dante mean?”

  “I’ve never thought to look it up. I don’t know.”

  I watched as he drew a few curves and lines along the table, absent-mindedly tracing something. “If my memory serves me right, I think Dante means protector.”

  He grunted.

  Knowing I’d probably upset him again if I said it too loud, I mumbled under my breath as I attempted to process the realization. “Dante, the demon protector. Wasn’t that an oxymoron?”

  “No, it isn’t,” he answered. “You forget. I have excellent hearing too. You don’t have to insult me. What does your name mean?”

  I threw the second knife flew and watched as it sla
mmed into the wooden table, a few inches from his hands.

  He didn’t flinch one inch.

  “Freedom,” I announced as I swiftly bent over to retrieve another knife lying on the bed.

  “Well that’s good. Freedom for Elana. I like that.” There was a trace of laughter in his voice. He paused for a moment before he continued. “I’m sure you do too.” A few more moments of silence passed, then finally he said, “I know this is highly unorthodox, and you’re in an extremely frightening situation. But before we go any further, I want to put your mind at ease. I’m not interested in harming you. I know you are a werewolf and probably of great importance to your people. I’m going to try to get you out of here, but you’re going to have to trust me. It’s as simple as that. Do you think you can do that?” He yanked the knife from the table and with an ironically tender touch, he bent the blade into a slight arch, disabling it so it couldn’t be used for another but holding a bunch of grapes or large orange. I swallowed hard so my mouth wouldn’t fall open. This demon could kill me in an instant.

  Suddenly a vision from my wolf state hit me. I recognized his voice. I’ll help you get out of here, but you’ve got to trust me. I closed my eyes and relived the moment again. Over and over again, that voice. A ripple of awareness surged through me. His voice was the same as the man who had come to me to console me in my agitated wolf state. It was deep, almost sensual, yet tranquil and protective. This demon before me had calmed me. “The wolf chant. That was you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you say?”

  He paused for a moment, digging his long nail into the wood of the table. “You were very upset.”

  “What did you say?”

  “That’s not really important, is it?”

  “I insist,” I replied with my polite tone I used when I wanted it to be known I expected to get what I sought.

  He chuckled. His laugh was low and throaty. “I’ve seen pomp and circumstance from my father. You don’t have to take that tone with me. There is no need for us to be enemies.”