Darkroom Saga Omnibus 1

by Poppet

  My ego toys with me as I decide it will be far more rewarding to see how she chooses to thank me for my sacrifice for her safety. Taking fresh coffee into the darkroom, I sit down in front of the screen, pressing play on our last session of lovemaking. Unzipping the strain, I release my frustration mentally, as she closes her eyes and opens her mouth. Praying to me on the screen.

  •

  Shauna:

  Noise alerts me. Jerking upright in panicked reflex, it takes a moment for last night to filter back, returning a semblance of calm. Victor strolls in with a mug in each hand as coffee teases me with its alluring aroma.

  “Good morning my little angel.” He looks tired and pale, but his face is cherubic in its gentleness.

  I return the affectionate smile, “Morning.”

  Placing the mugs down precariously close to the edge of the beech table, he leans over after sitting next to me, giving me a nubile soft kiss on the lips. “How are you feeling?”

  “Guilty. Dirty.” I do. I vaguely recall Vengeance coming to me in my sleep, telling me it's not over. My soul feels sullied. We murdered him. No one deserves murder. I can't stop my bottom lip from shaking as tears well up again. “I'm so ashamed.”

  Pulling me into his chest, a hand rubs my back. “You had no choice. If he'd had his way, last night would have ended very differently.”

  I'm unable to prevent the endless tears, “I made you murder him. It's all my fault.”

  “I took care of it. There's no evidence that anything untoward happened here last night. Let's bury the past now. The most important thing is that you're safe and you never have to live in fear again.” Soft kisses cover my face when he tilts my head, attempting to love my anguish away.

  Doesn't he feel any guilt? I am. It's weighing on me. Why am I crying? Is it relief? We're probably going to hell for this too. I'll never escape that bastard. Now he's waiting for me in my afterlife.

  He's patient. Letting me cry it all out until it subsides. Then he companionably holds my hand when we drink our first cup of morning coffee after the insane ordeal that's been my life for nearly two years. After coffee, he climbs back into bed with me, wrapping his body around mine, the safest harbour I've ever docked in, falling asleep with a possessive hand between my thighs.

  I didn't think it was possible, but I finally feel both loved, and safe. Drifting back into mindless slumber, I experience a warm peace, secure.

  ~ Chapter 35 ~

  But when we fall short and are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined and chastened, so that we may not be condemned to eternal punishment along with the world.

  ~1 Corinthians 11:32

  Victor:

  Betrayal knocks the wind out of me. Fury floods my body, annihilating the relaxed confidence I was so enjoying as I stare at the bitch. The fallen angel resurrected before my very eyes.

  “What are you doing?” Anger slips into my tone with the livid rage and adrenaline surging through me.

  Spinning from the mirror with obvious surprise, wearing black skin tight jeans, the harlot smiles happily at me, “Taking out these fucking earrings.”

  My hand flashes out before I can stop it, gripping her pathetic wrist in my hand, forcing her to stop, “Don't, I like them.”

  Her wide blue eyes search mine, and it's taking every ounce of self-control I own not to smack her into the mirror. Smashing that pretty face into it, forcing it to crack, break, cutting open that peachy skin.

  “Oh … oh okay …” she's faltering.

  I have to get a grip. Forcing a smile I pull her to me, making an excuse, “Sorry angel, my nerves are shot too, from last night. That earring matches my arm, leave it in for me, please?”

  She nods into my chest as I pull away, forcing her chin up, shoving my tongue into her mouth, reminding her who she belongs to.

  “I can go home,” she announces with such exuberance as soon as the kiss ends.

  She could have punched me in the nuts and it wouldn't have hurt me, but this? “You used me …”

  Her face twists in horror, “No! God no!”

  “Yes. You used me. Now your life can go back to the way it was.”

  Shaking her head, eyes pleading, beginning to shimmer with unshed tears, hoarse shock makes her voice waver, “Victor, never. I just … I …”

  “You just what? You just couldn't wait to run back home. You don't care how I feel? You just announce it. I've been through hell for you, and now you're casting me aside, now that I've served my purpose.”

  She runs hands over my chest, staring up at me, disgrace all over her. Look at her, wearing her slut, low-rise stretch jeans the minute she thinks God isn't around with his avenging angels. I've deluded myself, I thought she'd changed.

  “Victor please …”

  “Please what? I've done everything in my power to help you. Everything.”

  “I know.” It's barely a whisper. She runs her whoring hands down my body, rubbing my groin as her whisper lies automatically, “I love you. I didn't mean to hurt you. I thought you'd be pleased?”

  Halting her despicable acts of manipulation, I grab the wrist, thrusting her hands off me, propelling her backward into the vanity, “Just get out.”

  Tears start falling now, her lips move but nothing comes out.

  “I'm going out. Don't be here when I get back.”

  Backing away from her, forcing myself to hide my rage, my shock at her betrayal, my horror, I snatch keys off the bookshelf in the passage outside the bathroom. My phone and wallet are already in my pockets. Striding to the front door, pulling my sunglasses on, I stalk out, slamming it behind me.

  Rushing down the stairs, I almost run to the M3. Getting in, my hands shaking, my breath raggedly heaving my chest. I wanted to kill her right then. I wanted to make her bleed, slowly, so that death would be the last mercy Alpha would grant her. I've tried so hard. She seemed so authentic and genuine.

  Pulling my iPhone out of my pocket, I phone my first disciple. “Peter. It's Vengeance. I need you to visit Shauna for me.”

  Starting the car, I reverse out of the parking bay confidently, my calm returning as a new plan forms in my mind. “I'm going to take her out …”

  One thing she never counted on, was thirteen of us. Driving to Seth, I recall how much power I command. Her life is in my hands. I wield the power to turn her back. The hard way. I need to get more fake contraception from Seth, whose speciality is pharmacology. He has his own lab, and I need her body primed for pregnancy, I've doused her food with folic acid, which is why I cook. It's not out of love, it's so that I can make the most of her biology.

  Absently, I share with Pete, “She wore jeans. She couldn't wait to defy Father. God's law isn't open to selfish interpretation.”

  Listening I nod, as I stop the car in my reserved bay at the surgery, “When? Today. Definitely today.”

  The impostor had twelve disciples. The first are the same as mine. Peter, and his brother Andrew; James, and his brother John.

  But it gets worse as Seth takes me into our soundproofed lounge in the rear of the surgery. His expression is tense and severe as he orders me, “Sit down.”

  I know better than to debate. He wouldn't be like this unless it was serious. Sitting down on the black leather chair closest to his, I arch my eyebrows, waiting.

  “Alpha contacted me.”

  I nod, gesturing for him to continue.

  “Before you had Shauna move in with you, she secretly had a male visitor. A regular male visitor.”

  “What!”

  “The Watcher says that whoever he is, knew where the cameras were placed.”

  “Who the fuck is he? I'll shred the skin off his body with a toothpick!”

  “We have no idea. At best Alpha has a grainy profile silhouette of him. You have to find out who he is. We have to tie up the loose ends. Alpha is enraged Victor. You've slipped on this one. You've slipped badly.”

  The blood drains from my head, instantly light-headed as I keep an iron grip o
n maintaining consciousness. Alpha and myself have long gone past the point where he disciplines me. If I'm lucky, he'll let me live.

  “I'll take care of it.”

  Standing up, without a backward glance, I head back out to the car, and Shauna. She is going to pay, and pay dearly.

  •

  Shauna:

  Suddenly free. Free! He's gone and can't ever hurt me again. Euphoria should be the name of a perfume, because it's how I feel right now. As if I'm floating with sheer happiness.

  It's been months, almost two years since my nightmare began. And now, finally, and it feels oddly strange, I'm a free agent. Free to do as I please. Free to wear what I want, date whoever I want, I can go out again without wondering where he is, if he's behind me, watching me, stalking me.

  I could leap over the mountain beyond the window with sheer exuberance! Giddy with a smile I simply can't erase no matter how hard I try, I pull my favourite jeans on. I love jeans.

  What Vengeance and his fucking god don't understand, is that this place is freaking windy. A skirt is hell on a good day, never mind a windy normal day. That's why women used to wear sixty trillion petticoats under their skirts in the good old days. They're impractical. Second to that, is that they're cold to wear. They offer no insulation from a cool breeze, even worse is the eyeball freezing wind which blows through in the early morning. I hate them. It's fine if you're going out, or it's a special occasion, but for every day, jeans win hands down every time.

  Skipping from the bedroom to the bathroom to brush my teeth, my hair tied up so it doesn't get caught by the toothpaste, I start brushing. Leaning in afterward to floss, I inspect my teeth, when my eye catches the earring in my right ear.

  A sense of malice mingled with satisfaction grips me as I lean forward, carefully turning it to loosen it, watching what I'm doing in the mirror. Unclipping the butterfly holding it in, I have my eyes cringing shut with the discomfort of carefully extracting the bugger, when Victor's voice breaks the silence with such vehemence my heart nearly stops. Instant vertigo flirts darkness on the edge of my vision as I whip around to face him, blurting out my confession.

  “Taking out these fucking earrings.”

  These fucking painful earrings that mark me as his special victim. He's dead and I can do what I want!

  He moves faster than my eyes can register, his hand gripping my wrist so hard it hurts. Pins and needles flood my fingertips as I watch with confusion.

  His tone is an order. “Don't, I like them.”

  I've never heard him speak to me like this before. This is serious. My happiness evaporates with the fear creeping up my spine from my stomach. “Oh … oh okay …”

  Shocked; coherent thought isn't working. I don't know what to say or how to respond.

  “Sorry angel, my nerves are shot too, from last night. That earring matches my arm, leave it in for me, please?”

  His hug is tight as I hear his explanation without it registering. Everything feels delayed. It occurs to me that he's overwrought with guilt, and I'm being frivolous. Cupping my chin, he kisses me. There's no gentleness in it. It's as if he's stamping his ownership on me.

  In a way I'm really pleased I can move home today. He can have his privacy back, and we can go back to normal dating. Secretly I'm looking forward to being able to paint my toenails in private. I can wax my legs and leave the conditioner in my hair. And he'll never know. Yay! I don't even have to shave everywhere any longer. I can go back to being me!

  I tell him as he withdraws his head to stare deeply into my eyes, “I can go home today.”

  I know he'll be just as thrilled at this return to normalcy. Except … except … oh God, his face. It's frozen in shock. His delicious face turning sickly pale as he gapes at me. What?

  “You used me …”

  The accusation is saturated in disgust and scorn. I feel like he just spat in my mouth. Is that what he thinks? No! No – no – no!

  “No! God no!”

  I'll never forget this as long as I live. I've hurt him. I can see it. His eyes have glazed coldly, all emotion has left them.

  “Yes. You used me. Now your life can go back to the way it was.”

  My entire uterus, womb, stomach, kidneys, and liver are all melting into a puddle. I feel like I just lost everything inside me, as if it vanished into another dimension. Instantly empty and feeling ill, my head is moving in denial, I have no control over it.

  All I'm aware of is the pain burning into my chest as he blurs in my vision. I'm watching him slip away right before my eyes.

  I love you.

  “Victor, never. I just … I …” My mouth seizes up with dryness. I think I'm going to faint.

  “You just what? You just couldn't wait to run back home. You don't care how I feel? You just announce it. I've been through hell for you and now you're casting me aside, now that I've served my purpose.”

  Every atom of my being wants to soothe. To stop this. I want to kiss him better. Love him and erase this pain etched into his face. To change the loathing in his tone, returning him to my Victor. Stepping closer, I run my hands over his chest, trying to communicate my feelings through touch. The pleading in my tone mocks me after his words, “Victor please –”

  He cuts me short, his eyes rebuke me silently. His reproach evident in his tone and words, “Please what? I've done everything in my power to help you, everything.”

  “I know.”

  I do know. Why is this happening? My world is dissolving when we should be celebrating. I'm desperate to distract him. I need him to know how much I love him. Caressing his body, I try again, communicating how much I want him, need him, hoping to reawaken his desire and halt this insanity.

  “I love you. I didn't mean to hurt you. I thought you'd be pleased?”

  Staring into his eyes I'm willing him to hear me. I did think he'd be pleased. Please Victor, stop.

  His reflexes are faster than a bullet. I didn't see his hands move but feel them so tight on my wrists, he could break them. Does he even know how strong he is?

  “Just get out.” His words and body propel me away in his disgust.

  Please, no. Oh God. No, Victor, I need you. I fucking love you.

  How did this happen?

  My shocked hurt annoys me because I try to tell him, but nothing comes out of my mouth. My body and mind paused in sobbing shock. My beautiful hero blurs in my vision.

  The blob of his body moves as his angry words reject me. He's misunderstood all of it. “I'm going out. Don't be here when I get back.”

  My legs wobble and I sit down heavily on the bathroom mat, misery engulfing me completely as the front door slams. Curling into a ball, bawling like a child after punishment, my head and shoulders shaking, everything inside me quivering. The enormity of my loss squeezes every last remnant of happiness from my morning.

  “… please Victor … come back.”

  ~ Chapter 36 ~

  Every Scripture is God-breathed and profitable for instruction, for reproof and conviction of sin, for correction of error and discipline in obedience, for training in righteousness

  ~2 Timothy 3:16

  Shauna:

  In numb disbelief I finally summon my bones to support me. Shocked stupor fogs everything. Using instinct more than sight, I extract my clothes from his closet. Picking up my keys and phone, I trudge heavily toward my home. Leaving my spare keys inside his. They're the keys to his home, his heart. He should have them back.

  Hopefully, I leave my own spare keys next to his, a silent invitation if he changes his mind.

  I don't care what else I've left behind. The walls are closing in on me. Everything smells of him. His taste and lavish lifestyle mock me. I feel orphaned, as if my parents just abandoned me again. The sense of loss and grief so severe that my knees buckle two steps inside my apartment.

  Clutching pink and white material, I bury my face in my clothes. Wailing. He just tore my heart out, and left me here to deal with the loss. How do men st
ay so self-composed at the end of a relationship? How do they carry on functioning?

  What did I do? He's over reacting and won't even listen to me! We've come so far, lived through so much together. He's my rock. He's kept my sanity hidden inside his heart, keeping it safe. Holding me together when I was falling apart.

  Scrunched up on the floor, my body succumbs to shock. Shaking, my limbs and digits become rigid in their quaking.

  “Nooooo!”

  I didn't hear my door open. I didn't hear footsteps. The grip on my shoulder nearly makes me pee myself in fright, jerking away in terror, twisting so fast that my neck seizes in burning pain.

  “Victor!”

  Relief grips me. Petrified, still like a fossil, I watch his eyes, his mouth, intently, as he speaks. Hushing my pounding heartbeat.

  “Shauna? What happened?”

  Dropping the now wrinkled clothes I am still clutching, I lock my arms around his neck, bursting into tears anew, “I love you. I thought I'd lost you.”

  “Why are you on the floor like this?”

  Shamed, I look away from his curious expression, focusing instead on his throat, “It's called pain. Mental and emotional anguish from losing the one thing worth living for. I fought back so hard to regain my body after that last beating, because of you.” Pausing, wiping my eyes on the back of my hand, I harness the courage to look back into his eyes, “I love you. I didn't mean to hurt you. You misunderstood me.” Taking his free hand where he crouches next to me, my husky voice pleads, “I love you. I love you! I need you more than air.”

  A smile is tugging his mouth. I can see it. Hope? Is that hope?

  “Go wash your face woman. We're taking the day off and escaping our demons.”

  “We are?”

  Finally he smiles, standing, pulling me up with him, “I'm not going to say that your eagerness to get the hell away from me didn't sting.” He wrestles with his smile again, trying to look stern, “I had this planned for us already. After last night I thought the best thing we could do is just distract ourselves.” He gives my shoulder a gentle push, “Now go clean up. You've messed today up enough already.”