I am so excited to finally share the first (unedited) chapter of The Darkness You Crave with you all. I think I rewrote this chapter three times before going back to the original, lol. But seriously, this story has been living in my head for months, and seeing it come to life—with all its tension, angst, and complicated men—has been a crazy ride.

​

Mark your calendars: it’s coming to Kindle Unlimited May 1, 2026.

Pre-order link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FZPCC715

 

This is a Why Choose dark romance, which means our leading lady doesn’t have to pick just one hero! But the “swords” don’t cross, if you catch my meaning, lol. 

 

You’ll devour The Darkness You Crave if you like: 

❤️Gothic dark academia vibes
❤️Enemies to lovers
(x3)
❤️Secret society
❤️Mystery
❤️Morally grey antihero
(x3)
❤️Obsessive/possessive hero (x3)
❤️Power Games 

​

Thank you for being here and supporting my writing. I couldn’t build these dark, twisted worlds without this amazing community.

 

The Blurb: 

I didn’t ask to be pulled into my brother’s war.

But when three of the most dangerous men I’ve ever met drag me into their secret society, Shadow & Ash, there’s no turning back.

Sin, Markus, and Dax.

Their house is beautiful. Ordered. Suffocating. And the rules are simple—obey them, or break.

And then there’s her.

Jade.

The girl who came before me. The one no one will explain, but everyone feels. Her name lives in the walls, in the silences, in the way they look at me like they’re seeing someone else.

They aren’t just powerful, they’re broken. Whatever happened to Jade left scars they don’t bother hiding, and somehow I’ve stepped straight into the space she left behind.

I don’t know what they want from me.
I don’t know if I’m a stand-in…or something else.

All I know is this: the closer I get, the harder it is to leave.

And in a house built on secrets, falling might be the one thing I don’t survive.

 

 

Chapter One 

​

Ember

People always say death changes you. But it doesn’t. Not really. Death just flashes a spotlight on who you already are. It highlights those parts of yourself you’ve been trying to ignore. Some of us turn gentle. Some of us turn angry and bitter. Me? I think I’ve been numb for a long time, and now that my father is dead, I feel…nothing. Not sadness, not relief. Just a quiet emptiness that’s always been there. But in the wake of his death, that emptiness now feels like a wide, yawning abyss of nothingness. 

Sometimes I wonder if that emptiness will ever be filled. 

My therapist says it’s the way I cope—by turning my emotions off like the tap on the kitchen sink, so I don’t have to deal with them. I’m not so sure, though. Honestly, it feels like she’s just skirting around the truth, afraid to say what we both know: that I’m broken.

Too broken to fix.

But being broken has its advantages. And right now, I need this numb detachment for what comes next.

My brother, Jackson, keeps the leader of Shadow and Ash chained up like a trophy. He thinks it makes him safe, but his arrogance is blinding him to the danger still circling the Burning Crown. He hasn’t told me a single thing about the war between the two societies; to him, I’m just the little sister who needs to be kept in the dark.

He forgets that the walls in Rush House are thin. People tend to talk loudly when they think no one is listening, and I’ve been leaning in, catching every whispered secret.

This morning, I overheard Jackson and the others arguing about the leaked news article—the one that exposed all our family’s dirty secrets and ultimately led to my father’s death. Shadow and Ash was responsible for the leak. They pulled the trigger that nearly led to my brother’s destruction.

So, it’s clear, if I want to protect my family from whatever Shadow and Ash has planned next, someone needs to figure out what they’re planning. Someone needs to interrogate the monster in the basement. And since I’m just the “unassuming little sister,” I’m the perfect person to step into the cage and get the answers.

Besides, this won’t be my first conversation with Sin. We’ve been talking secretly for a couple of weeks now, and we’ve told each other things—personal things—so I know how to get him to talk.

Rush House is quiet when I open the basement door and creep down the narrow staircase. We’re in Malibu, right off the Pacific Ocean, so the cement walls are damp, and the mildewy smell settles into my lungs as I descend deeper into the belly of the house.

This house is ancient, built in the 1890s. Officially, the house belongs to the Rush family, but really, it serves as the Burning Crown’s headquarters—so, obviously, there’s a centuries-old prison cell in the basement.

As I pass the home gym and catch sight of the room ahead, I hold my breath. Sometimes when I come down here, the vault door is locked tight, and there’s no way in. But today, the security team left it slightly ajar, so I step forward and pull it open the rest of the way.

Sin Savano lounges on his metal cot, watching me carefully as I walk in. He must have heard me coming. He’s leaning back against the cement wall, one arm flung over his bent knee, like a sultan giving audience to his subject. Well, with one key difference—there’s a thick chain secured around this sultan’s ankle.

His sharp green eyes take me in, watching me intently, like the predator I know he is.

“Ember,” he intones, the deep vibration of his voice making me shiver. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I lean against the doorway and consider whether or not to tell him the truth. Despite our little late-night chats, I wouldn’t exactly call us friends.

I mean, seriously, how do you befriend a viper? I’m not an idiot. I know, given half the chance, he’d bury his fangs in my jugular, render me helpless, then unhinge that sexy jaw and swallow me whole.

Just a vibe I get from him.

“My father is dead,” I blurt out truthfully, because I don’t know why not? It’s not like I have anyone else to talk to about it. I can’t tell my friends what’s going on, and my brother is too busy running around after his ex-girlfriend to even notice me in the corner, quietly spiraling.

“Sorry to hear it,” Sin says dispassionately.

“Are you, though?” I challenge.

“Depends.” He shrugs. “Did you like your father? Some of us have shitty sperm donors who are better off dead.”

Hmm, interesting comment. Maybe we have more in common than I thought.

“My father was a selfish cunt,” I say.

And it’s true. He was very rich, very cruel, and as selfish as they come. My brother and I only existed to feed his narcissistic ego, and if we weren’t doing that, then we were nothing to him. We literally didn’t exist.

My therapist says he’s the reason I’ve never felt seen.

Why I’ve never felt good enough.

Sin laughs under his breath at my bluntness. “Then—” He shrugs again. “—good riddance. There’s no use grieving a villain.” 

My eyes drift over the tattoos that crawl up Sin’s neck and down both arms. His black shirt clings to his chest, the fabric stretched tight, teasing at the edges where more ink disappears beneath it. Peeking out from the collar are a pair of almond-shaped eyes that have been tattooed into his skin with such haunting detail, I swear I just saw them blink.

I catch myself wondering what else is hidden under that shirt. How far does the darkness go? What do those tattoos mean? And, more importantly, what is he trying to hide under all of those beautiful, chaotic designs?

“My brother says you’re the villain.” I force my gaze away from his tattoos, and down the various cuts and bruises scattered across his neck and arms—all injuries from the torture he’s been subjected to at the hands of the Burning Crown over the last several weeks. “When he finally kills you, should I say good riddance?”

“He won’t kill me,” Sin says with that signature confidence he always seems to have. “My sister wouldn’t like that.”

His sister, Eve, is dating one of the other leaders of the Burning Crown. She’s the only reason Sin isn’t dead yet.

“You’re putting a lot of faith in your sister’s pull around here,” I say.

Sin’s green eyes are sharp, glacial, and they skim over my face with an odd sort of detachment. But, even with that indifference, his focus makes me twitch.

Because, let’s face it, I’ve never been the kind of girl who turns heads. I don’t know how to dress or do my makeup—much to my mother’s annoyance. Sometimes I randomly decide I’m going to learn, and I start watching YouTube makeup tutorials. But it’s always more effort than I’m willing to put in, so the routine never sticks.

Case in point, here I am, standing in front of the hottest guy I’ve literally ever seen, and I’m dressed like I’m headed to the DMV—jeans, a cropped white baby-T, and a messy bun. It didn’t even occur to me to brush my hair before coming down here until just now.

So, yeah, I’m hopeless.

“Why are you here, Ember?” he asks.

My brother would eviscerate me if he knew I was talking to Sin right now, let alone standing this close. He’s always been super protective of me. But for all of his winning qualities, Jackson is also stubborn and reckless. He tends to make rash decisions without really thinking. Now, I’m the one who has to make sure those decisions stay good and buried.

“Tell me,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “What do your people know about my brother and his past?”

Sin’s full lips quirk up into a faint smile. “Fishing for information, princess? Is that what these little visits are about?”

“I’m just answering your question,” I say, lifting my chin. “I know your people are behind the article that was released about my brother. Thankfully, that’s no longer an issue. But it got me thinking—what else do you know?”

I watch his eyes closely, searching for any hint that he holds more leverage over my brother. But Sin’s expression remains a practiced mask of mild amusement.

“Who gives a fuck about your brother? He’s boring,” he says, his voice a dark, gravelly rumble that vibrates in the stale air. “But you, on the other hand. You interest me.”

He leans forward, the thick chain around his ankle clinking heavily against the cement floor. His glacial green eyes skim over my face.

“You can play the loyal sister all you want, but we both know that’s not why you keep coming down here,” he says smoothly. “You keep risking your brother’s wrath just to talk to me. So, I’ll ask you again…” He tilts his head, that terrifying, beautiful face shifting into something far more predatory. “Why are you here, Ember?”

I swallow.

“Because…around everyone else, I’m invisible,” I say—again, opting for the truth. Because, why not? Sin won’t be around for long, anyway. Eve’s influence will only spare his life for so long. So, for all intents and purposes, he’s already dead. And as they say—dead men tell no tales.

“You couldn’t be invisible if you tried, Ember.”

The sincerity in his voice makes me pause.

I’m immediately suspicious.

He wants something from me. I know, logically, that’s the only reason he’s being so flirtatious. But even knowing that, I find myself leaning in. Because, I won’t lie, it feels good to be seen for once.

Ugh. I’m so pathetic. This thirst for attention is exactly how people get lured into cults. His playful comments are textbook pandering. But, whatever. How dangerous can he be with a thick chain wrapped around his ankle?

Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out a lighter and a blunt. Someone has a whole stash of pre-rolls tucked away in the desk in the study. I found them earlier when I was snooping around.

I light the blunt, take a puff, then hold it out tauntingly. “Tell me what Shadow and Ash know, and this is yours,” I offer.

He lunges for it so quickly, I don’t have time to react. His long fingers circle around my wrist, and he yanks me forward. With a startled gasp, I tumble awkwardly into his lap.

Okay, so maybe he’s still a little dangerous. And there’s definitely more range on that chain than I thought there was.

He’s warm. Hard. All muscle and sharp edges. The blunt has fallen onto the cot, and I press my hands to his chest, trying to push away from him. He pulls me tighter, close enough that I can feel the slow drag of his breath against my temple.

“My friends and I would have a fucking field day with you…” he growls, the sound low, dark, and sexy as fuck.

I don’t have to ask what he means. There’s a rumor circulating around Rush House that Sin Savano shares his women. With who? No idea. Like most rumors, it was heavy on the shock value and light on the actual details.

“You wish…” I shoot back, a thin thread of snark slipping into my voice.

His eyes flash, surprise cutting through the ice for half a heartbeat. His hand slips under my shirt and slides up my ribcage to cup my breast through the fabric of my bra, the contact firm and possessive.

I suck in a stuttering breath as the heat of his palm seeps through the lacy fabric. His thumb brushes lazily over my nipple in slow, deliberate circles that make my clit throb.

It’s been far too long since I’ve been fucked properly.

His expression is heated, his eyes tracing the line of my mouth with an intense focus that makes my skin hum. “Now, tell me what you really came down here for, Ember.”

“I already told you,” I breathe, my voice trembling. “I want to know what Shadow and Ash has on us.”

A deep chuckle vibrates in his chest, and my cheeks instantly flood with heat.

“You’re lying,” he rasps, his hand tightening on my breast with a sudden, bruising possessiveness that makes me gasp. “You’ve been begging for my cock for weeks now.”

Okay, begging is exaggerating things.

Have I been picturing him naked when I go to bed? Yes.

Have I been rubbing one off to that image every night? Also yes.

But begging for his cock…? No way. Not outwardly, at least.

“You’re unbelievably full of yourself,” I breathe. “I’ve never even mentioned your cock.”

He leans forward and lets out a low, humorless laugh against my throat. His hand slips under my bra, palming my naked breast. “I’ve seen the way your breathing changes, and the way your pupils dilate, every time you walk in here. You don’t need to say a word for me to hear your body begging, Ember.”

The hard ridge of his erection bites into the underside of my thigh, solid, demanding—and, God help me, but I’m desperate for it. My mind is still trying to find a clever comeback, but my body has already surrendered, arching toward the very thing I just claimed I wasn’t begging for.

Suddenly, he removes his hand from my bra and releases me. My pulse is hammering, my skin screaming for the pressure he just stole away. But he just watches me, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm that mocks my own frantic breathing.

He’s clearly making a point: I came down here to extract information from him, yet he’s the one who managed to strip away my defenses without even breaking a sweat.

Yanking myself off his lap, I get to my feet and try my best to look completely unaffected, despite the snap of electricity that’s still zipping through my veins.

“I’m leaving,” I say.

“Running off so soon?”

“Yeah. You’re annoying me,” I say bluntly.

“I thought you enjoyed my company,” he says with a smug smile—the kind that comes from knowing exactly what he’s doing to me.

“I tolerate your company. There’s a difference.”

“Then why continue to come down here?” he asks.  “No one is forcing you, and yet, it’s becoming a regular thing.”

His words ruffle me—mostly because they’re true.

I ended up at Rush House two weeks ago after a massive blowout with my mom. She’s drinking again, but now she’s swapped wine for tequila, which is never a good sign. The internet calls it “escalation.” But what it really is? A kitchen floor covered in glass, and my mom screaming, “I know you’re planning to put me away,” nearly every chance she gets.

So when she finally told me to get out, I didn’t even argue.

I just left.

I had to beg Jackson to let me crash here at Rush House, and sometimes, I wonder if I should have just gone to a hotel. I feel like an intruder here. The Burning Crown is supposed to be this big family legacy thing, but, as kids, while my brother was being groomed for the secret society life, I was at home dodging flying wine bottles.

So, yeah, I don’t belong in this house, and I definitely don’t belong in this world.

Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to Sin. Neither of us belongs here, but we’re both trapped in our own ways.

My phone suddenly buzzes in my back pocket, which surprises me. I didn’t think I got cell service down here. Pulling my phone out, I glance at the screen. It’s a text from my best friend, Amanda: I’m working at the Shrunken Head tonight. You should come.

I blink down at the screen, tempted to say yes. I desperately need a night out. The only problem is that Jackson told me explicitly not to leave the grounds.

Sin is watching my face, something wicked flickering in his pale green eyes.

“Let me guess,” he drawls. “Brother dearest is summoning you back upstairs? Time to go sit quietly in your gilded cage like a good little prisoner?”

His words ruffle me, mostly because he’s not entirely wrong.

“I’m not the one with a chain around my ankle,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “I can go wherever I want.”

Sin lets out a low, mocking laugh that instantly sets my teeth on edge. “Sure, you can, princess. But we both know you won’t. You don’t have the spine to defy your brother’s rules. You’ll run upstairs, lock your door, and do exactly what you’re told, like always.”

Like always.

My blood simmers. Sin and I have talked a few times, and now he thinks he knows me?

“Actually,” I snap, shooting a quick text back to Amanda. See you soon. I shove the phone back into my pocket. “That was a text from my friend. I’m meeting her at the Shrunken Head tonight.”

Sin’s full lips curve up into a smile. He leans back against the cement wall, the thick chain at his ankle clinking, looking far too satisfied for a man locked in a cage.

“The Shrunken Head?” he repeats with a chuckle. “Isn’t that place a little too gritty for a Burning Crown princess? Are you sure you can handle yourself out there without your brother holding your hand?”

“I can look after myself, thanks.”

“Can you?” His voice drops and carries an odd stillness that makes the hairs on my arms stand up. “Isn’t that where you used to meet up with your ex? Aren’t you afraid of bumping into him?”

Over the last couple of weeks, Sin and I have talked a lot about all kinds of things—politics, religion, and a couple of times, the subject of my ex came up. I may have shared his name and a few details about our (very fucked-up) relationship.

“It’s been a while since we broke up,” I say. “I doubt he still goes there.”

“And if he does?” Sin challenges, his pale green eyes locking onto mine. “Will you run back here and hide behind your brother's rules? Or will you finally stand your ground?”

My teeth clench. “I’m not hiding from anyone. Especially not Nate.”

Sin smirks, like I just gave him exactly the answer he was looking for. “Good girl,” he murmurs.

“Why do you even care if I run into my ex?” I ask. “You don’t know me. I don’t know you. We’re both lonely, and we talk. That’s it.” 

But I’d be lying to myself if I said there wasn’t a spark of something between us from the start. I felt it the second I stepped into this musty cell, and saw him standing in the shadows. When his pretty face finally came into view, it was like a punch to the throat, so abrupt and unexpected, I could hardly catch my breath.

“Who says I care?” His voice is even. Unaffected.

That comment hits way harder than it should, mostly because it puts a spotlight—yet again—on how painfully one-sided this whole thing between us is. He’s only asking out of mild curiosity, while I’m over here dissecting his every word.

“You know what, I probably shouldn’t come down here anymore,” I say with a shrug, forcing a casual tone. “I should be upstairs more. Making friends, getting laid. The guys around here aren’t exactly hard on the eyes.”

And I’m not lying. Turns out, secret societies are a magnet for hot dudes. Who knew?

Sin doesn’t react, which is just more evidence that he really doesn’t care. Instead, he just tilts his head and watches me with his usual calculated stillness.

“Have fun tonight, princess,” he says smoothly. “Just be careful...not all monsters are chained up.”

“I thought you didn’t care,” I say, my tone biting.

He smirks again, but doesn’t say anything.

My eyes flick from his face down to the chain wrapped around his ankle. Without that, I probably wouldn’t have the nerve to say what comes out next.

“If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll find a guy who’ll finish what you started. You know, since I’m obviously begging for it.”

I turn on my heel and leave, my heart pounding against my ribs. I may not have gotten the information I needed about Jackson, but I walked away with something more valuable—a new understanding of Sin.

He’s a master at finding the cracks in people.

And he’s already found mine.

 

Love and hugs,

Evelyn 💋