Broken Dove: A Dark Romance (Dance of the Dead Book 2), page 1
BROKEN DOVE
DANCE OF THE DEAD
BOOK 2
C. LYMARI
Broken Dove© 2023 by C. Lymari
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.
Editing: Rumi Khan
Proofing: Proofing: One Love Editing
Cover: TRC Designs
CONTENTS
Also by C. Lymari
Author’s Note
Broken Dove
Foreword
Part I
Preface
Closed Eyes
1. Summer
Running
2. Summer
3. Luke
Truths & Lies
4. Summer
Broken Pieces
5. Summer
6. Luke
Scars
7. Summer
8. Luke
Shadows
9. Summer
Grief
10. Summer
Starlight
11. Summer
12. Luke
Best Show
13. Summer
14. Luke
Colors
15. Summer
16. Luke
Strength
17. Summer
Part II
18. Luke
Sunshine & Rain
19. Summer
20. Summer
Mistakes
21. Summer
Bliss
22. Summer
23. Luke
Hurt Me
24. Summer
25. Luke
26. Luke
Fool
27. Summer
Beauty
28. Summer
29. Luke
Endless Summer
30. Summer
Epilogue
Thank You
Acknowledgments
About the Author
ALSO BY C. LYMARI
Homecoming Series
It’s Not Home Without You- Hoco #1
(Second Chance/ Forbidden)
The Way Back Home – Hoco#2
(Friends-to-Lovers)
You Were Always Home -Hoco#3
(Enemies-to-Lovers/ Second Chances)
No Place Like Home- Hoco#4
(Friends-to-Lovers/Sports)
All Roads Lead Home- Hoco #4.5
(Insta love/ age gap)
Home At Last- Hoco#5
(Second Chances)
Sekten Series
Savage Kingdom
Cruel Crown
Brutal Empire
(Extremely dark & full of triggers)
Dance of the Dead Series
Swan Song
(Dark age gap/daddy romance)
Broken Dove
(Dark Romance/Age gap)
Standalones
For Three Seconds
(Forbidden/ Sports Romance)
Falcon’s Prey
(A Dark bodyguard Romance)
In The Midst Of Chaos
(MC dark romance)
Gilded Cage
(Dark Fairytale Retelling)
Press Play
(Romantic Suspense/Thriller)
Boneyard Kings Series (with Becca Steele)
Merciless Kings
Vicious Queen
Ruthless Kingdom
(Reverse Harem)
Bonus Stories
Hollow Vow
(Halloween special)
Home Sweet Home
(Homecoming prequel)
Clymaribooks.com/bonus
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Broken Dove is a dark romance. If you have read my books before, you know they can be triggering. Although it is in dual POV, it is told mainly from Summer’s perspective, so it might seem a little confusing at first.
For more information on triggers, you can go to my website:
clymaribooks.com/triggerwarnings
Enjoy the crazy ride.
Love,
Claudia.
BROKEN DOVE
Welcome to The House of Silence
I lived my life with darkness all around me.
Everywhere I went, I needed constant guidance.
I listened.
And obeyed.
I learned to dance so I could be freed from my gilded cage.
A dove who could not find its way home.
Then one day, I met Luke.
He made me feel happy—safe. Mending my wings so I could soar once again.
All the while biding his time to rip me to shreds.
Because, at one time, I belonged to La Casa Del Silenzio.
If their whores weren’t blind, they were mute.
Too bad for everyone, I could still speak the truth.
With him at my side, I could conquer my past.
But I don’t think either of us expected my wings to finally snap…
Here’s to finding beauty in our scars.
FOREWORD
“Believe nothing you hear, and only half that you see.”—Edgar Allan Poe
PART 1
Winter
PREFACE
Summer
My heart once ached to see the wonders of the world. To scour the earth until I couldn’t go on anymore. I was young with dreams and a full life ahead of me. Now I was scared to go out alone, with nothing but my shadow keeping me whole.
But I guess that was what growing up did to you, right? That fearlessness we were born with, the one that made us climb trees and ride our bikes at top speeds, diminished with each passing year. The price of growing up was not aging but losing ourselves to the fear of living.
When I was young, things were so simple. Right and wrong were as clear as night and day, but the older I got, the more I realized that the world had shades of gray.
If I could describe the man next to me, it would be just that. He wasn’t nice, and he wasn’t kind; he just was. The kind of man that existed for himself and no one else. The kind that was selfish and rude but would do anything in his power to protect those who were brave enough to withstand the trials of his affection.
Like salt to the sea, flowers to spring, he was a part of me. Even now, as he held my hand, I could tell he was holding back. Every time I took one step forward, he took three steps back, and at this rate, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be on the same page. It was like he was fighting a war on all ends.
“You look beautiful,” he said, and I had no doubt he was beginning to notice my discomfort.
My smile was weak, but I believed him.
It was in the way he stopped breathing when I walked into the room earlier. The way his hands touched the tiny tendrils of hair that framed my face. The delicate way his finger traced the hollow of my throat and then dipped down to my collarbone with a barely there graze of my chest.
Even though I had spent the last few years prancing around in tights and a tutu, I had not felt as exposed as I did now because being naked didn’t count. I spent the better part of my childhood catering to old men and women who liked to have pretty little things to look at, touch, or feel. You could say I had been desensitized to my sexuality.
It was a weapon. Something to be exploited.
I knew my body, but I wasn’t in love with it. I thought I would never feel desire, yet being here with him made me feel like a woman for the first time in forever.
The dress I wore was off the shoulder, formfitting lace that flared out mid-thigh.
It was long enough to hide the fact that I was not wearing heels. There was only so much trust I could give out; all of it was now on the man next to me. For the next few hours, he would be my crutch, and I didn’t think he realized just how much I was giving in by allowing him that position.
He squeezed my hand as if to assure me that he would be my strength.
“What’s wrong, my dove?” He shifted, getting closer to me.
“Nothing,” I lied. “So, where are we going?”
Luke used the opportunity to lift me and sit me on his lap.
My stupid heart started to beat faster. The intimacy we shared had not been like this. It was felt but not seen. It touched your heart without needing anything physical or more concrete.
This time, it was me sucking in a breath as he wrapped an arm around my waist. I tipped my chin toward him, wondering how he looked at me. I rested my head on his shoulder and bit my lip when I felt the evidence I had been hoping for.
He was hard for me.
He wanted me.
And that proposal I had made in the beginning was now haunting me. I ached to lean up and touch him.
I wanted to push past his boundaries and obliterate every wall he had set up in my wake. My fingers came to his throat and lightly grazed the way his artery throbbed. Moving them, I traced his Adam’s apple and felt his long swallow.
Daring to be bold, I moved my fingers higher, and he went still beneath me. That arm that was wrapped around me was like a steel band, cautioning me without words. His fingers dug into my hips as a final warning.
I ignored this.
I knew pain and what he would dish out would not hurt me. A thin line existed between pain and pleasure, love and hate, because they were the same side of a coin. All I knew was the negatives, and I didn’t care what I had to do to get the positives.
My heart was now beating fast. It was like a tune of drums spurring me on as my fingers glided to his jaw.
It was sharp—strong. The skin was smooth in some areas, with a hint of prickliness in others. Before overthinking it, I leaned in and kissed the underside of his jaw.
Dull pain bloomed in my hip from where he now dug his fingers in deeper, as if trying to steady himself, prepare to pull me away, or brand his hand there so I wouldn’t go anywhere.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
When I pulled back, he relaxed a bit. I ached to see all of him, but I didn’t want to push him. Things lost beauty when they were not freely given. And I knew better than anyone what kind of scars the things you were forced to do left on you. They were not only physical, but they went skin-deep. I could feel them with every breath I took. With every trip down memory lane, they were there, always with their arms wide open, ready to grab me in their clutches and sink me back in.
I didn’t reply, for he knew and remembered from our past conversation what my intentions were. All I wanted was a small part of him. Even if he didn’t realize it, he had stolen a part of me already, so it was only fair I got something in return as well.
With my thumb, I traced his lips. They were smooth, the bottom one a tad bit bigger than the top one, with a wide and defined Cupid’s bow. I liked the feel of them on my lips, and I couldn’t help but remember the way they felt moving between my legs.
I shifted in his lap, trying to find some relief from the feelings he had awoken in me.
He parted his lips, and I was prepared for him to tell me it was enough, but instead, he took my thumb into the cavern of his mouth. He waited until it was all the way in, then wrapped his teeth around it and began pulling back.
“Luke,” I moaned as the feeling between my legs intensified.
He swirled his tongue against the tip of my thumb before wrapping his mouth around the digit and letting it out with an audible pop.
“We are here,” he groaned with regret.
The door opened, and he sat me astride him while he wrapped the coat over my shoulders.
Luke got out of the car first, then took my hand and guided me out. As soon as my foot touched the ground, he had a possessive hold on me.
“I won’t let you fall,” he promised.
I nodded as he began to lead the way.
“Will you tell me where we are now?”
“Soon,” he told me as he led us over a threshold.
The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was a mix of perfume, alcohol, and cigarettes.
My mouth went dry.
It couldn’t be, right?
This should have smelled like a bar, but it was far too classy for that. The cigars were only the best, alcohol top-shelf, and the perfume and cologne designer.
Although I said I felt nothing and nothing mattered, that was because I thought I had escaped my first cage and the flames that had branded me would never touch me again.
The murmur of people stopped the moment Luke and I stepped fully into the room, their soft gasps enough to let me know we had been unexpected visitors.
“Lucas,” a familiar voice drawled, and it came from directly next to me.
I jolted with fear, trying to wrap my brain around it so I could pinpoint the place and time I had once heard the voice, although I already knew the answer all too well. I almost made myself believe that the last time I’d heard it had been a fluke.
“Run!”
My mother’s chilling voice rang, sinking into every pore of me, and instead of spurring me into action, it made me immobile with fear.
“Mamma,” I screamed as I ran toward her. The man who had her stopped and looked at me, and I sucked in a breath when I recognized his face.
Tears welled in my eyes as I really took in and saw the way he was holding on to my mom. He wasn’t helping her. He was the reason why she was in pain. His hands were on her neck, and my mom pleaded for me, but I didn’t know what to do.
They were my world, but I was beginning to realize that perhaps it wasn’t big enough for both of them.
Without thinking, I grabbed the first thing I could find. It was a container from the lab, a tray with tubes on it, and maybe I should have wondered why it was home and heeded my papà’s caution never to touch it, but I just wanted to help in any way I could.
I threw it up, the contents spilling as it went. Screams echoed all around, and it wasn’t until I gasped for air that I realized that the haunting sounds were coming from me.
My hands came to my face, and I couldn’t even open my eyes from the pain. Someone rushed to me, and they tried to pick me up. They said words I did not care to hear. I needed to open my eyes. More than anything, I needed to get away. Since my eyes were closed, I couldn’t see what I touched, but I pushed away from the arms trying to hold on to me.
“Fuck,” the person roared.
“Mamma!” I yelled, but her answer never came.
With my eyes closed, I made my way through the house, knowing where everything was from memory.
I got knocked back when my body collided with someone.
“Where’s your mom, little one?” I instantly recognized my padrino’s voice.
As I gasped for air, I tried to beg him to help, but instead, he carried me away.
“We have to get out of here now,” he rushed out. “He will kill you next.”
As my heart broke, I could feel the pain of every jagged end that was currently shattering before me.
The chaos and the pain had lulled me to sleep. When I woke, everything was now black. A thundering voice echoed through every corner of where I was currently lying. If the devil had a voice, his would be it.
“Benvenuto nella Casa del Silenzio.”
CLOSED EYES
You close your eyes so you won’t see,
but those demons don’t come out in the dark.
They exist, even if you don’t blink.
1
SUMMER
I used to be a dancer—not a very talented one, but we all paid our dues somehow.
The only thing I remembered was the pain in my feet and the last flash of color as my sight evaded me. Those were the things that fueled me, that kept me going. For peace was just an illusion, and dreaming was for those who still saw life in all its vibrancy, no matter the good or the bad.
I was part of the Danza dei Morti, a renowned, hauntingly beautiful ballet act, or so I’ve heard. You didn’t have to be talented for them to hire you—the main requirement was to be broken. Although the company did have talent, the prima ballerina was said to be death with the face of an angel. For you could mimic pain, sorrow, and anger, but unless you lived in horrors, you couldn’t duplicate it.
And that was my life now—I was the chaos after the storm.
In this world, there needed to be a balance, and some people had to be at the end of that spectrum. You see, when I was young, I did a bad thing, but karma didn’t wait a single second to claim me. She was fast and served her justice upon me.
