In the Beginning Read online

  IN THE BEGINNING

  Prequel: Paradise Stories

  L.B. DUNBAR

  www.lbdunbar.com

  Originally published Paradise Found: Cain

  Cain: Paradise Stories Book 2

  © 2016 Laura Dunbar

  www.lbdunbar.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Original Edits – Karen Hrdlicka/Barren Acres Editing

  2019 Cover Designs – Juliana Cabrera/Jersey Girl Designs

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Other Books by L.B. Dunbar

  Cain

  Sofie

  Cain

  Sofie

  Cain

  Sofie

  Cain

  Sofie

  Cain

  Sofie

  Cain

  Sofie

  Cain

  More by L.B. Dunbar

  About the Author

  Connect with L.B. Dunbar

  Other Books by L.B. Dunbar

  Silver Fox Former Rock Stars

  After Care

  Midlife Crisis

  Restored Dreams

  Second Chance

  Wine&Dine

  The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge

  Silver Brewer

  Silver Player

  Silver Mayor

  Silver Biker

  Collision novellas

  Collide

  Smartypants Romance (an imprint of Penny Reid)

  Love in Due Time

  Love in Deed

  Love in a Pickle (2021)

  The World of True North (an imprint of Sarina Bowen)

  Cowboy

  Studfinder

  Rom-com for the over 40

  The Sex Education of M.E.

  The Heart Collection

  Speak from the Heart

  Read with your Heart

  Look with your Heart

  Fight from the Heart

  View with your Heart

  A Heart Collection Spin-off

  The Heart Remembers

  THE EARLY YEARS

  The Legendary Rock Star Series

  The Legend of Arturo King

  The Story of Lansing Lotte

  The Quest of Perkins Vale

  The Truth of Tristan Lyons

  The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance

  Paradise Stories

  Abel

  Cain

  The Island Duet

  Redemption Island

  Return to the Island

  Modern Descendants – writing as elda lore

  Hades

  Solis

  Heph

  In the Beginning

  There was a garden and a girl...

  [Cain]

  I was pretty sure killing someone meant I wasn't going to get away with murder. Murder means needed to lay low after the incident. I wasn't hiding as much as avoiding—avoiding the media, avoiding the investigation, avoiding my father. Of course, “Daddy Dearest” knew where I was. He had to know. He demanded Kursch, my bodyguard, come with me. Loyal to me, but it was still my father who paid his bills—with my money. I was the breadwinner for the family. It was my fight to keep us ahead. A fight. Literally.

  All I wanted was the weekend away. I needed some separation. The last thing I needed was to get involved with someone, but it appeared that I had. As I twisted to my side, I noticed the telltale signs of another night drowned by drink and an unknown conquest. I rolled to my back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, before I felt her shift next to me.

  “Okay, sweetheart, time to go,” I announced to the ceiling. I sensed her motion rather than watched it. When I turned my head on the hotel pillow to face her, she was staring at me. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. The most intense blue eyes were looking at me. No, studying me.

  I don't think I blinked for a full minute. I was so ensnared by the deepness of the blue. They were a refreshing lake and I needed to cleanse my soul. I was the devil. The snake.

  “Time to go,” I said breaking the spell.

  She sat up then and looked at me over her shoulder. Dark waves flowed down her back, and that’s when I noticed it. She was dressed. Her red t-shirt covered her, exposing slim arms. I scanned her body to notice her ass coved in boy cut briefs of the same color. I also realized she was on the top side of the covers. What the fuck?

  I sat up too abruptly and gripped my forehead. The throbbing was immense. So was the throbbing someplace else. My body had its typical morning reaction. However, I was the only one barely dressed. The sheet slid down my hard abs to expose the full breadth of the snake that covered my upper chest and wound its way down my right arm. Those blue eyes scanned my colorful skin and licked me with their admiration. I suddenly wanted to know what it would feel like to have her tongue on me with those innocent eyes staring up at me.

  “You know what? Maybe one more before you go,” I said and flopped back on the pillow. I pushed the sheet down with my boxer briefs and let the full length of me out into the warmth of her stare.

  I saw her swallow, which only made me harder.

  “Well,” I said and nodded to myself.

  Suddenly, those baptismal blue eyes narrowed and scorched me with an evil I don't think I’ve ever faced before.

  “What exactly do you think happened last night?” she asked. Her voice was both ice and fire at once. It froze me and brought me comfort.

  “We fucked, and I’m sure I was fabulous. A cobra is the fiercest snake after all,” I grinned. “I want one last thank you, and then you can go,” I added. “Taste the fruit.”

  I saw it happen. It’s shit only romance authors write. Her face fell. A mask came down over those eyes, and they suddenly showed her innocence. She averted what I held erect for her pleasure and mine.

  “You really think...” she asked softly, the coldness in her tone turned warm syrup.

  “We fucked,” I repeated crassly. She swallowed again. Her eyes were losing the battle to not look at me, and then she closed them. She turned away from me and scooted herself off the end of the bed. I saw her stand then bend to pick up a floral skirt. She tugged up the flowing silky material and straightened her t-shirt. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, sweeping it up into a ponytail.

  As she stretched to work her hair in a complicated twist, I took in the full length of her body: flat stomach, shorter legs, larger breasts for a smaller frame. I watched her walk to the side of the bed, opposite mine, and pick up a pair of red-framed glasses that matched her snug t-shirt. She stared down at her left hand for a moment, before pulling something from her finger.

  I was still laying there petrified as I held my most precious body part upright. The bed sheet draped over my thighs. I stared at her blue eyes that softened as she spoke.

  “It was fun, if just pretend.” She smiled weakly and held up the large diamond before placing it on the stand.

  I knew instantly something was wrong. She crossed the room to the door before I sat up and covered myself.

  “Wait,” was crossing my lips, as she opened the door and slipped outside. I had
a brief glimpse of Kursch standing in the hall. The large bald man stopped short when he entered the room.

  “You idiot. Get the girl!” I yelled.

  The towering man, who had known me since childbirth and protected me like his own, crossed his large biceps and stared down at me.

  “You fucked up big this time, Cobra,” he addressed me with a curved mouth and dark set eyes.

  Falling back on the pillow one more time, I blew out a breath and ran a hand down my face.

  “What did I do?”

  “For someone trying to lay low, you made quite the spectacle last night.”

  “Does my father know?” I huffed.

  “Not yet.” Kursch paused. “But he will. I gave you a week, but there was enough picture taking to fill an album last night.”

  “How much time do you think I have?”

  “I’d say twenty-four hours. Maybe forty-eight, at the most.”

  + + +

  2

  [Sofie]

  The night was too unrealistic to be real, yet I was hopeful. He seemed genuine. He seemed interested. He seemed different. When the night started out with him thinking he could out drink me, I knew it was going to be interesting. I might be small, but I can handle liquor. I'd grown up on it. You can't grow up in Napa Valley and not be able to drink copious amounts of wine or handle home distilled alcohol. I was here for the weekend to help my grandparents. Weekends were busy at The Vineyard Inn. We catered to an exclusive clientele: the rich and famous.

  That was another thing I'd grown up on. I'd met enough movie stars having affairs, directors cheating on their wives, and rock stars with weekend women to be immune to them all, so his presence struck me as unusual. That a man of his size and stature would be here alone seemed unbelievable to me. There was another man lingering near him, and at first, I thought this was another type of rendezvous. I quickly learned the larger man was his uncle.

  Over time, the bald man seemed more interested in the group of women celebrating the new divorce for one of their own. The First Wives Club, they called themselves. Few were still married, and they returned to commemorate that another marriage bit the dust. Of the ten women, eight were now single. Coming here didn't provide the pick-ups and hook-ups they each sought. It offered a sanctuary as they drank too much wine, bashed the men in their lives, and counted the dollars they'd receive for alimony.

  Again, he stood out from the romantic coupling and the rousing party members.

  “Got anything stronger than this,” he said with a nod to the racks of wine behind me. I worked the bar, as I only occasionally had to pour wine, explain flavors then walk away. I had a mid-term in a week to study for: human anatomy. Intriguing stuff as a Friday night read for someone who wanted to be a doctor.

  “I'd recommend this robust red made with—”

  “Stop.”

  I was startled at the directness of his voice.

  “Be real,” he said. “Something harder.”

  “Be. Real,” I mouthed. “Okay. You look like a man who could handle Grandpa's Passion.”

  “I don't want some damn fruity drink,” he squawked, as I crossed behind the wooden bar and reached into the private stock cabinet. Inside was Grandpa’s Passion, and it was anything but fruity. Made from some unknown combination of natural herbs, this concoction was produced in an old fashion distillery and aged over time. The nights seemed like the right time to open a bottle.

  Placing the tumbler glass before him, he smelled the clear liquid before throwing it back in one swallow. I waited. He’d be sorry. His eyes stayed focused on mine as I dared him to cough, to sputter, or to react. He didn't. He asked for another, only this time he seemed more interested in nursing it. I wandered back to the end of the bar and began reading again.

  “Whatcha reading?” he blurted.

  I looked up to find dark brown eyes questioning me. I lowered my red-framed glasses to look at him more intensely. A short sleeve t-shirt hugged his large biceps. He looked tan, but not ethnic; a scruff of facial hair, that looked trim, short dark hair, shaved close to the head. His presence screamed danger, but his eyes begged for something else.

  “Human anatomy,” I replied. He nodded. “Know what that is?” I snarked without thinking. I don't know why I baited him.

  “I might know a thing or two about it.” Those dark eyes roamed my body as if he had X-ray vision. He'd taken a mental picture of my insides and knew I was inexperienced in the ways of anatomical intimacy.

  “Well, name two,” I laughed.

  “Two?” he questioned, as he sipped the whiskey in front of him.

  “A thing or two of the human anatomy?” I replied, standing taller from my leaned over position.

  “Penis and pu—”

  “Alright,” I responded loudly, holding up my hand to halt his words. “You’re a virtual doctor.” Sarcasm dripped from my tone.

  “The doctor is in.” He had a lopsided grin that was a bit endearing and I had to giggle. “What would you like to learn?”

  “For real?” I questioned.

  “For. Real,” he whispered loudly.

  “Fine. Are those real?” I eyed his large biceps that seemed accentuated as he balanced his elbows on the bar.

  “Are those?” He glanced obviously at my chest. I should have been insulted. I was insulted, but he was so blatant, I laughed in a nervous giggle. I nodded.

  “Lesson over,” I said trying to sound stern. I replaced my glasses and glanced down at my book. The words swam before me. There was silence followed by a sigh.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered. I didn't respond.

  “I work out. A lot. Yes, they’re real.” He glanced down at his right arm, and I noticed the twirl of a tattoo over his bicep and down his forearm.

  “What else do you want to know?” he asked.

  I shook my head. I wasn't interested in continuing this conversation. I shook my head again and reread the same sentence three times before he spoke again.

  “Come on. Ask,” he demanded.

  “Fine. Do you take drugs? Is that how they got so large? I mean, it seems unnatural. Do they even feel...real?” I barked in a rapid rumble of words.

  He blinked at me and the dark eyes turned lighter as he laughed at me.

  “No, I don't take drugs that enhance my performance.” He winked at me before continuing in a more serious tone. “I work. Hard.” His emphasis on the last word was not lost on me.

  I nodded and looked back at my textbook. He ordered another drink, and I poured him a smaller sample of the Passion. The rousing women were getting louder, and a few sent glances in the man's direction. My thoughts included images of him with one of them. I didn't like the idea that they would use him for his body to ease the pain of their heart.

  We only offered light fare after the dinner hour, so I wasn't responsible to feed anyone. My big friend at the bar was going to need something despite his large size. Grandpa's Passion was strong. I excused myself to the kitchen, to rid my mind of the woman who approached the bar to hit on the buff man, and also to make him a sandwich to absorb the alcohol.

  I returned to find the woman removed, and I gently placed the plate of food before him. He looked up at me, and those dimming brown eyes questioned me.

  “You need sustenance if you’re going to keep drinking Grandpa's Passion,” I explained. I returned to my books, and I felt his smile on my back. He took a few bites before he addressed me again.

  “Got another question?” he asked. I looked up uncertain what he meant. "I'd like to help you with your anatomy," he said. I didn't miss the undertone, but the image of him with one of the recent divorcees came into my mind again. It made me jealous.

  “I do have a question, actually. I've always wondered if a man as large as you, has a small...you know...I mean it’s unnatural to be that big. I just sense it’s to compensate for something else...that’s small.”

  He choked on a bit of his sandwich and he reached for his drink, finishing the rem
ainder in one swallow. He was still trying to recover when I reached the end of the bar and instinctively began pounding on his back. He continued to cough as I slowed the pounding to a circular rubbing of his large upper back.

  He sat up and I removed my hand. With lightning speed, he gripped my waist to prevent me from moving away from him. His thick fingers dug into my narrow hip bones and he tugged me toward him.

  “You owe me for that,” he teased with a smile. “I could prove it's not true, but I think I'll just take a drink with you, for now.”

  I felt his rejection. A man like him would never be interested in a girl like me. I was the quiet type with a sarcastic mouth: the girly type with naughty thoughts. I was the inexperienced woman with ideas of wayward desire.

  I figured why not. I wasn’t getting any studying done anyway. I poured myself some Passion, thinking what could be the worst thing to happen?

  + + +

  3

  [Cain]

  I’d treated the girl like the divorcee who wanted to fuck me. I acted like she was mine for the taking. Somehow, I sensed that hadn't happened.

  “What's with the ring?” I asked Kursch, as I rolled it over in my palm. It had to be at least three carats. It was thick and gaudy, and an image of slipping it on Sofie's finger flashed across my mind. Sofie. That was her name.

  “You don't remember?” The bald man I called my uncle laughed as he asked. “Bought the ring off the divorcee last night. The one that wanted you for the night.”

  I blinked. I remembered the tall blonde with fake boobs, who sauntered up to the bar. That’s when Sofie left the room. I didn't like the fact I couldn't see her. I really didn't like the fact the woman who came to hit on me was older, drunk, and desperate. She propositioned me. She wanted me to rid her of her memories. The only thing I could think to do was take her ring, not her maidenhead, which was long gone. I somehow sensed my wallet was thinner for the error.

  “How did Sofie have it?” I asked, but I knew the answer, as well. I'd asked her to marry me; she accepted. It was all in jest. We pretended we were married for the night. The night. I was still fuzzy on the rest of the details.