The Book of Red: ISAK & Red and bonus prequel Used

by Cari Silverwood

“Christ, being inside you,” spoken as he thumped into me, hard.

  And shorter cryptic ones, such as, “Why did I never—”

  Unwilling to understand all of his meaning, for now I chose to accept his war on me, his dominating, sweat-slippery, aching war on and in my body. The slaps, the bites, the throbbing pains. Accept, accept, because these acts were mine too. He took me to orgasm, made me fly and splutter choking, joyous gasps as I shuddered in his bonds and arms.

  While I was limp and barely able to move, he untied me and sat on the table with me in his lap. I panted for air. I couldn’t tell if the traffic passing might see us. By then I didn’t care.

  Coaxing me to desire again was a simple matter for him, with his powers and his mouth and fingers on me, in me, slipping cock inside me as he toyed with clit, and tongued and kissed my mouth, my breasts.

  I shuddered and clawed at his back, his biceps, anywhere I could grasp.

  Willing him utter control over my body, I sighed and whimpered at his touch. Such a perverse and perfect seduction of my body. His fingers went places as I bucked and locked my hands in his hair. He’d never let me do that to him… not before this.

  He laid me on my back, eyes fervent as he slowly penetrated me again. My legs were spread wide of my own doing, my hands were at his shoulders and waist and ass, as I tried to pull him inside me.

  The last of it, his climax and the momentous swell of come within… I was left open-mouthed and riveted by his look of snarling exultance. After the last twitch of him inside, with the last drop ejaculated, I expected him to pull out and leave me there, sated, messed-up, and exhausted. Instead, with dusk creeping upon us and the table cooling beneath our skin, he stayed with me, all tangled limbs and dwindling gasps.

  It was a togetherness that made me wonder.

  What if?

  Headlights were cruising by on the highway.

  We finally fumble-rolled and slid off the table, only to find a dog watching us, paws crossed and head on paws.

  “He looks hungry,” I ventured.

  Isak only grunted. “Go wash. There is a towel in the car. We will be leaving soon.”

  I eyed him. Were we back to limited communications? Had that been a momentary lapse?

  Though unfed – for chocolate bars seemed unwise food for him – the dog hopped into the back of the car when invited. The steering wheel was in my hands again.

  Mind unclouded, sore and abraded below, but strangely at peace, despite the recent murder – and how screwy was that – I drove us south-west.

  We had a dog, it seemed, until we reached the right town.

  I also had an Isak who was changing. For the better, I thought, hoped, prayed.

  He had recently killed a man, and with no remorse. How could he ever be trusted? Just because his lovemaking was less cruel… well, less distant. Was distant the right word?

  I remembered the pills on time and watched him swallow. Whatever this was, it was better than before.

  Then I remembered something else.

  “The passenger on that truck filmed me. Does it matter? It might go viral.”

  He only stared.

  I thought it might. It depended on where and who he showed it to. Isak seemed unworried. In spite of my CIA past, I might not show up on anyone’s facial recognition database, but still. Still… I could extrapolate. If it went viral, someone who hated Isak might see it.

  CHAPTER 10

  ISAK

  At Eight PM, the town of Borgeman was livelier than expected. A cattle sale was on, as was a biker meet-up from the looks of all the motorbikes parked on the main street. This was cattle country, so the former wasn’t a shock. And there was definitely a vet… and one of them was female. I found her easily, and by the time she opened the clinic, we’d bought both dog food and burgers.

  Banjo had slurped up half of the filling from Red’s burger when it slid to the dirt at a gas station stop. So the dog food can was currently unopened.

  “No.” The vet straightened and placed the scanner on the stainless-steel examination table by her elbow. “He isn’t microchipped.”

  No lab coat, just a T-shirt and jeans. Such a disappointment. All my TV show standards about veterinarians were wrong. “Okay.”

  I thought a while, ignoring Dr. Vicky or Debbie or whatever. She wouldn’t protest if we stayed here all night, but I had no real need of that. No microchip. “And you don’t recognize him?”

  I waved at Banjo, who promptly sat back and barked at me with a deep woof. I raised my eyebrows.

  “No.” Dr. Vickie reached down to pat the dog. “There are a lot of cattle dogs kept around here. He might also be from further away because—”

  “Because of the cattle sale.” I finished her sentence. I eyed the critter. “You can stay with us for a while, boy. Just don’t get too settled.”

  Anything could happen. I was currently unsure of my direction.

  He pricked his ears, whined, and held up the paw she had bandaged. I wondered how long it would last before he chewed it off. It would heal in a week apparently. A week of rest.

  “So there is an animal rehoming refuge the next town over?”

  The vet nodded.

  Red frowned. “You can’t just leave him in one of those.”

  “We can’t keep him forever.” We… using that pronoun made me feel odd.

  She folded her arms in protest but seemed less certain when she regarded Banjo.

  “Red, we are the least likely couple to be given a Great Pet Owner award.”

  “This is true,” she said reluctantly, as if straining the words through her heart. “He is super cute, though. But you…” She eyed me. “Best Serial-killer Award, maybe?”

  I guffawed. Ridiculous. But Red knew that Miss Vet couldn’t reveal anything, so here we were making dark jokes. Here I was laughing at them. The vet looked as if she wished to crawl under a table and hide.

  I had killed a great number of people. Mostly women.

  Me. The man who almost married, who used to, on occasion, champion lost causes.

  Who threw his fiancée’s cellphone into the sea in a fit of anger.

  Which really was not on the same scale as murder. However, any normal man, assuming he’d somehow forgotten, would be horrified if told he was a murderer. Me, how did I feel? I knew it was wrong, and I wanted to avoid it in future.

  I knew it was wrong… was that a new thing? I shook myself back to the present.

  “That was poor taste, Red. Way too macabre. Okay. Maybe we can keep him until that paw heals.”

  “Great!”

  I left the vet to close up, strolled outside with Red and a leashed and collared Banjo to our new pick-up… new ute. This one was white and dusty. Dented too. The vet hadn’t protested the exchange. No wonder. What did she do with this thing? Herd buffalo? I walked around it, checking all the damage, the tires, looking under the hood then slamming it closed. The rust-colored dirt was everywhere.

  Moving on. As long as it gets us to the next place.

  Red peeled off the side of the building where she’d been leaning. I held out my hand to her, and nearly took hers when she offered it.

  I stopped myself. The accidental gesture jarred. I was not going there. Make her want, need me, need to stay, but affection was not forthcoming. I didn’t understand the pleasure people got from it anyway.

  But I used to, my mind reminded me, dredging up the scenes from my life pre-mesmer, before I nearly married. The wedding that never was. I used to hold hands. It had felt good.

  That man had died. I’d worn him out and thrown him away, then the mesmer in me had burned out the last few fragments.

  I dithered, dusting my hands on my jeans then hooking them in my belt.

  The ute was not going anywhere, and I had an itch to scratch. The girl I’d sent off at the picnic area, the hitchhiker, she was here. We’d seen her as we drove in, and she’d waved. The bronze pick-up had been distinctive.

  Tammy might not be with us
, but once I locked onto a woman, I could find her again, if the area was small-ish. Like it was here.

  And I had locked onto her. I’d come so close to doing dirty things with her. So close to making her take part in a small orgy at the rest stop. The itch grew less potent when I thought of Red. It would feel like incest to make her take part. That had to be the drug affecting me?

  And I knew where the dark-haired girl had gone with that sweet ass of hers. Into the hotel up ahead to the left.

  A semi went by towing two containers, headlights creaming away the darkness, showing the length of this wide street with the huge footpath areas. Empty cattle trucks lined the opposite side of this small commercial area. As the headlights faded, the few streetlights came into prominence. Patrons from the hotel overflowed onto the footpath – leaving for home or wherever they were staying or kicked out by a bouncer.

  No doubt the town planned to expand to four lanes, on a day a long way in the future. Borgeman was likely deserted when the cattlemen and the bikers weren’t in town. The scent of cows and the lowing from the beasts carried from the yards where they were kept somewhere to the west.

  This itch was not going away.

  The young vet was locking up the front door behind us, and I turned and gestured.

  “Red, we can stay with the vet, tonight. We won’t get accommodation elsewhere in town. Not with all this on.”

  With a nod and a few words to Dr. Vickie, I arranged that. Too easy, as always. I had more things I wanted to arrange, this night. Interesting things.

  “I’ll be back, later.” I strolled into the street and followed the sidewalk in the direction of the noisy, light-blaring pub.

  HOTEL BORGEMAN. I read the sign as I passed under it.

  Inside, the place was humming with people. Past the bar and to the right, a dance floor was packed – bouncing with dancers and with a small band doing what sounded like covers. The front area was all tables, chairs, bar stools, and rowdy people. Hearing anything in here would be a miracle unless you were in kissing distance. I ordered a beer and sat on a corner bar stool, watching. She was in here. I could feel her presence.

  The riding boots, faded jeans, and hard-worn look on the men in here said most were from the cattle sale, though the tattoos on some men and women said there might be bikers also, or they might be locals. They might have a hybrid here, like a kangaroo-horse-biker for all I knew.

  I could have had any of the females in here, but this had become a mission. I had a raging need to dominate and hurt, to really hurt.

  Be kind to others? That ruled out Red, and I’d missed this female earlier… it had to be her that I took. Tammy.

  Enlisting a few other females for the fun might be worth it.

  I sucked on the beer and finally spotted her due to the swirl of action on the dance floor, the swish of her hair, and the man trying to drag her away by her arm.

  Boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend?

  The ex, from the screamed words I caught. Most of the patrons stopped eating, drinking, and celebrating to watch.

  As he was dragging her toward the entrance, she managed to smack his forearm, knocking it loose. He punched her to the floor. Half a dozen men rose from their seats, a couple punched him, then a bouncer moved in and he was thrown out. Rex was his name. Reminded me of a dog.

  Tammy was helped up by two women. The bouncer talked to her and them for a minute before leaving them be.

  “You okay?”

  “Do you need a lift home?”

  I listened to it all, watched them check her for damage, heard the discussion about whether it was safe to leave when the ex was outside. Finally, Tammy and her new friends, all of them women, left via some back exit.

  Such wonderful community spirit.

  I took that as my signal too, and slid off the stool. I used the front door, noting that Rex, who really needed a non-doggy name, was down the street next to a van getting talked to by three hefty-looking, cowboy-hat-wearing dudes. He did not sound or look happy, especially when they took to slapping then punching him, but he was not my concern.

  I headed around the back where a car park was located, and found Tammy and her new friends.

  Of course, it was easy.

  They followed me, out to the main street and along a walkway to a large park with ample trees to shadow it. The streetlight at the roadside barely illuminated more than a spits worth of the grassy area. Since this was nighttime, no one else was crazy enough to frequent a park. No sane woman would follow a strange man to one.

  Unless that strange man was me, the Pied Piper of women.

  I turned and held out my hands. “Welcome.”

  What to do with my catch? Six girls in sweet dresses, short shorts, low-cut tops, jeans that cupped their asses, and one Tammy.

  Getting them naked would be a good beginning. I always had ideas. I was a conductor of an orchestra where the instruments were lust and tits and cunts and asses, and they were always fun to play. Even when the instruments screamed. I should remember to gag those. The nearest houses were a fair distance, but it would be annoying to be disturbed, even if they told everyone how they’d volunteered to fuck me.

  This was what I wanted. I inhaled.

  Choice was doing one thing even when the other one tempted you? Her words.

  There was another saying. If a tree falls in the forest and nobody sees it, did it even fall?

  Red would never know.

  But I would.

  “You…” I began, except there was a slide of hesitancy in my voice, that was still going wait up, what if… should I really? Do I really want this?

  I felt him coming before I saw him – blotting the air with anger. He strode in with the demon in his eyes, his murderous intent tearing the atmosphere. I read women, and it seemed men also when they were this fucking obvious.

  Rex was walking in with a big knife hidden at his side. Had I seen the glint of metal? Maybe.

  Hell. Not nice to mess with my plans.

  I sighed and felt a bump of something inside me that I recognized a second later as relief.

  He was coming up behind the group of women. I gestured, and Tammy ran to me and kneeled. She reached up to unzip me. A distraction was in order. Rex, poor boy, was not going to be a simple take-down since he was armed and bloody dangerous, as an Aussie might say.

  Ladies A through to E were milling by then, watching him coming, though not distressed since I had them under control.

  “Stop right there.” I held up my hand and tried technique one on Rex, douchebag ex-boyfriend. Also known as talking to him.

  The rage was steaming off the pouty boy, and blood streaked his face, though with the poor lighting it was difficult to be sure of the latter. He’d had fists smashed into him, that I did know. Same as I knew Tammy was black and blue where he’d punched her.

  I actually found that annoying and wrong. He dared to fuck with her? In a way, she was mine. Though not mine the same as Red.

  He kept coming, rage steaming, knife concealed but obvious to me. His voice began with a low snarl. “I leave you, bitch, you come back and dare to give this asshole a BJ? Slut. Whore!”

  He raised the knife.

  Innocent and somewhat beaten Tammy, hand still on my crotch, half-turned and met his eyes, because I wanted her to.

  Ladies A to E swamped him, hands slapping – nothing too violent, yet.

  He swung, cursing them, unsure if he should stab anyone he didn’t have a personal hatred for, which was a big mistake. I stepped in and kicked him in the gut, twice, then grabbed his knife hand, wrenched at him and flipped him down, while the females dragged him all the way to the ground.

  The knife had spun away.

  They gagged him first by jumping his head into the dirt. I stood on that part of him while the sheer mass of them let them bring him to heel.

  His yells were mostly muffled by earth.

  Tied up with whatever the girls found to use – belts, bras, shirts, he was then strangl
ed. Though his last breath had been taken, still they held him, garroted, muffled, legs twitching. His body shook into silence, forever. I handed them the knife after wiping it of fingerprints, then watched as he was hauled away to a car one of them fetched.

  “Well done, ladies.” I pursed my lips.

  Tammy? I let her remain kneeling.

  This was not the way it had been meant to pan out.

  Clearly.

  Messy night. Murder. I’d sworn off murder, though since this was a male, perhaps it didn’t count?

  And I should go too.

  I watched the car full of ladies, and one dead man who would soon be buried, stabbed, and whatever they felt like doing, disappear in the direction of the outskirts of town.

  Quiet in Borgeman – if you were this far from the pub. I did a slow circle, looking up at the bright stars above this piddly little town.

  The properties around here were vast. They’d find somewhere to put him, and who would suspect dear little Tammy? Every man and his dog had laid a hand on that guy tonight. The women would alibi each other.

  My eyesight had adjusted to the night, and I saw how the meagre grass was dotted with dandelions. Nothing belonging to him had been dropped. No one had followed him. Would anyone suspect this as the site of his demise?

  It was a pretty neat murder. Not that I planned to become some sort of vigilante who saved women.

  I assessed my feelings. I closed my eyes.

  If I’d done as I had planned to, I would feel dirty right now. The pills were giving me a conscience, even if I didn’t like listening to it.

  “You may go,” I said to Tammy, flicking my fingers and not even looking as she left.

  Trees had fallen in the forest, this night; choices had been made.

  I liked this way of doing things… almost as much as I liked the other way.

  CHAPTER 11

  RED

  He stripped off his shirt, and slipped into bed well after midnight. I was half asleep and had been thinking about this entire, I-control-you problem. He might not let me go, and what could I do; how did you hold a man like this to an agreement? He had made the vet give us her house for the night, and I had zero clue as to where she was now.