Tempting Darkness: The Arastia Chronicles, #1

By Chris Mills

Why do things have to be complicated?

Sam Burmen spent a year of his life learning to master control for his condition. All he wants is a fresh year of college to learn and grow with his friends. What he did not expect was the lovely Alexandra Nibros.  With one meeting, he started to feel the calling deep within to have her. He finds desires within towards her that frighten him. 

Werewolves are complicated creatures as it is. They mate for life and normally they are called to one without choice. It was something he never wished to face. Alexandra starts to call to his inner nature, and Sam must decide if he wishes her in his life or to deny his heart and the beast. There is much to Alexandra that has him hungry. 

Sam finds himself so wrapped up in his own battle he doesn't see the dangers growing around him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Mills
• Release date: Feb 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393293941

Chris Mills

Chris Mills was born and raised in Van Wert, Ohio. He attended the University of Toledo where he majored in Communication Broadcast Management with a Minor in English Writing. He graduated in 2011 with honors.  He later moved to Fort Wayne, Indiana where he married his wife Sarah. They have three beautiful children together. Since childhood, he has been writing consistently to develop a style and worlds to explore.

Book preview

cover-image, Tempting Darkness

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Tempting Darkness

Chris Mills

Copyright © 2020 Chris Mills

All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Rain pattered against the window. and the Wipers moved to help against its flow. The storm did appear to be breaking. The worst was behind and for a while troubled Samuel Burmen. He rested his head in the back seat of the jeep. A deflated duffle bag set by him looking pathetic - like it had never been packed. He could have at least asked for something smaller. That wasn’t to say, he wasn’t fortunate.

The radio had been nearly silenced, but Sam’s ears still picked up Photograph by Ed Sheeran. He thought to tell Jerry earlier that it was still on, but the softness was appeasing in the storm. Sam knocked his head back against the headrest. The drive had taken almost four hours now. A detour hadn’t helped. Nothing was simple it seemed today. It needed to be - soon.

Sam yawned. He turned 23, on May 2nd, only a week ago. It didn’t feel like a year had passed - and not in a good way. His hair had gone wild and was a lighter shade of brown. It would need some care soon. His dark brown eyes stared once more out the windshield. So close. Sam would enjoy a run down this road. He was tall, had good tone to his muscles, and could easily return to the days of running around the countryside when he was a teen.

Things were different back then. Sam’s days of running and biking around his home had come to video games near the end of high school or drinking with friends. Part of that came, he felt now, from the death of his grandma. He’d wake in the morning and bike about a half hour to her home to spend some time with her. She did have the bigger TV to watch things and let Sam get away with too much.

Almost there, Jerry said.

Ding. Jerry’s phone was in a holder on the dash with Google Maps guiding him. He didn’t seem to care about getting something new with a center console and added navigation that was available in 2016. His blue 1998 Jeep Wrangler had some dings, new upholstery, and ran great. Sam couldn’t imagine driving something with that many miles on it. There was a limit - not wheels falling off. A familiar, crappy green, Saturn Ion rested at the edge of the drive. He always had to park it out of line of the garage door.

Sam stretched as they started to slow. The bump felt familiar beneath them. The tires rolled over the stone drive and up towards the garage. It was only passed noon on this Monday. There was no car in the drive, and Brad, his father, never parked in the garage. It was a workshop at times or housed a motorcycle.

Rain’s let up, Jerry said. He leaned forward. He was in his mid-thirties and had very short, dark blond hair. A small clearing began to form in the back. Should be a nice day. I hope this goes well Sam.

Brad was called an hour ago, Sam reminded.

Yes, he would have got you if he could.

I know, Sam said. He didn’t want Brad coming for him. Those visits were odd enough. They barely spoke, and Sam had never witnessed Brad that out of place. Thanks for taking me. I thought they’d have a driver or -

Are you kidding? Jerry said and laughed. I jumped the moment I heard. It will be our last time together.

This isn’t goodbye.

It won’t be the same.

I know, Sam said.

It only sprinkled now. It felt nice on Sam’s face. The blue house was small. The back had an addition that added three rooms before his birth. He rubbed his chin. The rotting porch now was large and very new. It had a nice dark stain to it but possibly was due to the rain. It had been a long time since furniture was out. The steps up wouldn’t be a death sentence to the elderly. It could be him, but it seemed like new touches came to the front of the house, including the windows.

Sam grew up in this home. Trees rose on both sides and back. A small barn was in the back, a fire pit, and a kennel for a dog they once had. Midnight had barked at everything from a rustle in the trees to a car driving by. Sam swore she must have seen ghosts at times. Sadly, he had been in college when she passed.

Well, Sam, Jerry said. He shook Sam’s hand and quickly hugged him. Pat, pat. Take care. Remember what we talked about.

I will, Sam said. Jerry had been welcoming last year and never gave up on Sam. Without him at Gertran Medical Center, things would have been far different.

And don’t take it off, Jerry said. Sam eyed the square black watch on his wrist with a red band.

I know.

Sam tried the door before heading past Jerry on the steps. All the bushes had been torn up that once bordered the sad deck and were replaced with red mulch. Life started to sprout through. He got down on his knee close to a window and pulled a rock.

Ah, smart, Jerry said.

The rock had a pill bottle glued to its underside. Sam unscrewed the bottom and let the key fall into his hand. This project had been a suggestion to Brad before. He felt it would only help Sam sneak back in - and that it did. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he used this key. He headed to the door and smiled as the lock turned easier than the past. Cold air greeted him.

Jerry waved as he backed out. Sam sighed as the rear license plate ran past a tree. It was odd that Ohio drivers had to have front plates. They were easy to spot in Indiana. Sam never saw an Ohio plate in Calhorth before. His hometown got little traffic. No one bothered to stop here. They had little to offer. Everyone here ventured 45 minutes north to Indianapolis if they needed anything. They had bypassed Indy on the way here. Sam hoped to go that way in the coming week - if the Saturn still ran.

Sam pushed closed the door. No change - as expected. An aged, green couch bordered the window where a window air conditioner did its best to cool the small living room, a study, a laundry room that led to a large bathroom, and part of the kitchen. This thing barely cooled the original house. It sucked growing up here with as hot as it got.

The throne of the living room was in line with the TV. The red lazy boy would have Brad most nights in it with a beer on the small end table. He’d watch the news, his shows, and passed out sometimes before bed. He did a lot - more than Sam was able to see back then.

A nice shine came to the fridge. The stainless look was new here and it didn’t match the black stove or dishwasher. Sam did like the idea of having water and ice from a fridge now. The door to the mudroom revealed only some shoes. Sam used to keep water and pop in there for the winter. The garage could be accessed there as well as the front drive and backyard. It was the easiest route out. For the longest time, they had their microwave in there until Sam complained enough and Brad bought one for the counter out of frustration.

The hall off the kitchen was quiet. Air flowed from the open door at the end of the hall. Brad had a nice air conditioner that would help to cool this side until bed. Sam always had a fan for nights. A door was closed not far down the hall. There used to be white stars before he left from where the color one had been stripped taking paint with it long ago. An oval name plate did the same when ripped. Now the door was a solid white. Did it look any different in there now? Sam rubbed his foot on the floor before taking hold of the doorknob to his room.

For some reason, Sam was given the room closest to the kitchen and entrance of the house. He always felt the adults were to have the closest - the first line of defense. His room was large and had his eyes wide.

This wasn’t right. Sam turned about in his room. His bed was made up, floor barren of mess, closet door was open with clothes nicely put away, and his desk tidy. Had someone else been here? A TV rose at the foot of his bed. It had some age. The plasma was a deal, and no one seemed to buy them when he got it. Maybe that’s why his uncle, Johnny, gave it to him so cheap. He had to be careful playing some games. He didn’t understand why, but if an image stayed on it too long, it would ‘burn in’ to the screen. He learned that playing Gears of War 3. The damn ammunition bar at the bottom still could be seen.

Sam tossed his bag to the bed. He unzipped it and pulled a spare pair of clothes, identical to what he wore now. The blue gym shorts were plain, along with the grey t-shirt. He pulled a pair of pants that stretched a bit more than any sweats should. They found a place with another on a shelf in the closet. Two small notebooks came to hand. He rested them on the desk. That was all to bring home.

Sam rested back in his desk chair. A laptop set on the desk. The ASUS was thin and had pretty awesome specs. Jared had tried to get him to buy a MacBook, but they were expensive as shit for less specs than this. Jared was the Apple Guru of the group and tried to convert Sam several times away from his PC. He could have worked as a Genius at the Apple Genius Bar, and Sam still wouldn’t buy. Sam wasn’t made of money like his best friend once was.

The screen lit after a bit. Sam held to the lid and let his hand come back as his login appeared. Damn, it was still fast as heck. He logged in. Of course, there would be an update. He chuckled. That was one thing he didn’t like about Windows. It always seemed like he was getting an update. This, however, was understandable.

Sam eyed over his desktop. This didn’t seem right. Not that it wasn’t his, but it didn’t seem like it should be with the mess of icons. Things had really changed. Sam pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulled a couple old schoolbooks and slid his finger around the bottom of the drawer. A push here and there, finally let the false bottom be revealed.

A red Mentos box, two wrapped cigars, and an envelope with emergency money inside was all he had to hide. The cigars were to be shared with Jared upon their return long ago or really anytime he was to come last summer. Sadly, one would never grace Jared’s lips. Sam pulled the Mentos box and flipped the lid. Two flash drives were squeezed together inside. He pulled them out.

Sam put the blue one in first. This one had some old game save files on it and an emulator station he worked on with a nerd to set up. The red drive came next. It held 64GB of storage. Not much had been used according to its preferences. Fool. He shook his head. Five folders were labeled. Each name he knew well, and by far, this should not exist.

Sam clicked the first and shook his head. All the way back then, Abby had been a Sophomore. Hers were all scans, as he didn’t know how to transfer things. He had done this after the fact and felt like scum staring at her breasts right now. She was his first, when he was 14 and in 8th grade thanks to Brad holding him back in third grade.

The trash bin grew fast. The cursor hovered over the last. Chelsie had been Sam’s last girlfriend of seven months. Their last talk had been over the computer. He had recorded it. The very file appeared at the end of the list inside her folder. There wasn’t a need to remember her body either. The folder vanished with two clicks. He shook his head.

Sam was foolish to string Chelsie along. He realized too late that he didn’t love her like he should. She was a hot, bleach blonde girl with an amazing rack, as he used to call them back then. Anytime she was around, she followed him like a puppy. They were to go away last July to a cabin for a week. He thought of the fun back then, and also, how he would get annoyed. She talked too much. Sadly, back then he’d have dealt with her yapping to have fun with her. There was a thing about doing it in a hot tub that gave him a thrill.

Sam drummed his fingers on the desk as he checked through his computer. Games dominated the hard drive. He soon turned to online. Like expected, his Facebook and Twitter accounts were gone. Jerry had seen to that. Most of those who friended or followed him weren’t real friends after all. He didn’t know if he’d bother setting up new profiles again. Someone taught him that conversations should come, not checkups done by a click on someone’s name.

A familiar engine caught Sam’s ears. The red F150 had some age to it. Sam took a deep breath. He closed his eyes. Footsteps were upon the gravel outside. They came to the mudroom door. A key turned. Boots were kicked off. The thin glass door inside did not slam as it would, but gently closed as it should always. Someone soon stood at the entrance to his room. Their breathing wasn’t calm.

Sam? Brad questioned.

Hey, Brad, Sam said.

I tried to get off sooner.

I know. I saw what you’ve done to the house. It’s nice.

I had to keep focus. Why don’t we go out to eat tonight? I know you like Mexican.

Sam never ate out with Brad. Work got in the way or fights. He didn’t need to be on edge with the person across from him. Sam stared at Brad for a bit. Those eyes were more hopeful than Sam had ever seen before. Sure, Sam said. I’d like that.

Chapter Two

Things tasted different. It had been one thing, among many, that stood out not long into Gertran. Sam dipped his chip into the bowl of salsa. This place normally didn’t skip on the salsa, keeping it chunky with less liquid. Another bite had the nice zest of an added spice to make it perfect. There was more to the salsa to sort out, but it was damn good to experience. He never could handle too much spice, and he wouldn’t push it more here.

The horns added nicely to the singer over the speakers. Sam’s old college in Toledo had a place he would venture with Jared and their friends; Zack and Jeremey. They had live music every night - but skimped on the portions. Jared and Sam became best friends after being put together in the dorm. They had an apartment the next year. Zack and Jeremy never measured up to Jared. If Sam was in a bind, he’d call Jared every time. That would never come again.

Sam? Brad must have said for the third or fourth time with a worried tone.

Sam’s eyes snapped up from his salsa. Screams echoed through his head. Yeah? he said.

Are you okay?

Stop asking that.

I’m sorry.

The restaurant only had one main room and they were stuck in the lime green, cushion booth. It had been hard to take dates here in the past with the yellow, greens, and red booths they had. Some had duct tape to ensure more cushioning wouldn’t fall out. Their table had some odd carving in it of peppers and a burrito with white feet and hands. A sheet of hard plastic kept the artwork safe.

Sam, I really am trying, Brad said. Sam hung his head. I’ve tried to keep my mind occupied since you were admitted. There’s much I wanted to say to you back then. Sam had a response, something he easily could have said, but did not. I’m sorry. You deserved better than what I gave you.

You gave me a house to live in, a car, and ensured I could get to college if I wanted, Sam said. That’s the best a parent can do.

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