Dragon Reign: A Paranormal Love Tale

by Pressley James

  Now, the water blast from the spray nozzle with a violent force, and it no longer felt warm. Instead, now, it was icy cold and stinging. At the impact, the violent shudders racked through her nude body. The hard water pelted against her wet skin, and raw pain shot straight through her.

  “I’m going to get you…I’m going to get you…I’m going to get you…I’m going to get you…I’m going to get you…”

  “No, no, no,” she mumbled almost incoherently, and stumbled across the slippery wet floor to the stall door. With shaky hands, she fumbled with the small lock, but somehow, she managed to engage it. She nearly slid as she made way towards the stall’s corner. Crying softly, she crouched down before huddling against the cold slick tile.

  But, her actions only infuriated the stranger more.

  “You fucking bitch,” the stranger hissed. “You belong to me and only me. You fucking bitch…you fucking bitch...you fucking bitch…you fucking bitch…you fucking bitch…”

  “No,” she sobbed. “No…no…no…“

  “You fucking bitch…you fucking bitch...you fucking bitch…you fucking bitch…you fucking bitch…”

  The terror intensified with the endless chants.

  Finally, she sensed the violent presence, and though, she was shrouded in darkness, she knew that he was staring straight at her through the frosted pane.

  “You will always belong to me, damn you,” the stranger hissed, trailing a nail across the stall door. “You can’t run…you can’t hide, you fucking bitch! You will belong to me and only me.”

  Shaking violently, crying harder, she clutched her wet head between her badly trembling hands. “Stop it! Stop it! Leave me alone!”

  But, once more, the silence bowed to the mocking laughter.

  “No,” she cried, lying down on the wet floor. “No.”

  Then, she did the only left to do.

  Scream.

  ***

  Xander watched until the protector veered from sight.

  He released a pent-up breath.

  He never thought he’d leave.

  Not that he had anything against his protector. As a matter of fact, he cared about the strange, non-emotive creature. But, he had more pressing matters to handle.

  Like making sure that Nicole was safe and protected.

  He glanced at his watch.

  12:05 a. m.

  He looked down at his attire.

  The hideous tux had to go.

  Loosening the bow tie quickly, he tugged it off.

  After tossing it to the couch, he went to work on the sequined buttons at his wrist.

  And to think rich guys had a thing against jeans and t-shirts.

  He’d take them any day over this suited garbage.

  After kicking the black dress shoes from his feet, he walked to the bedroom. A few moments later, he’d exchanged the suit for only a pair of black sleeping trousers.

  He padded across the room bare-footed.

  But, he stilled at the sound of Nicole’s earth-shattering scream. It roared through his conscious with a violent force. “No!” he raged.

  In a blinding whir, he passed from the bedroom. Within seconds, he reached the front door and wrenched it open with deadly force. He crossed the short space to her apartment. Giving an enraged cry, he kicked the door in, splintering the thick wood until it held nothing but jagged edges.

  Darkness shadowed the large, living room except for the bright, silvery peal of moonlight as it splayed across the plush red sofa. Slipping past it, he headed towards her bedroom.

  “No!” she screamed again. “Leave me alone!”

  Her anguished cry ripped through him, scarring his soul beyond repair. The pure adrenaline rushed through his veins like scalding fire, and that solidified the fact that the crazed vamp would receive no mercy.

  He passed through the open doorway, only to find the bedroom empty. But, then he saw faint light glowing from the bathroom.

  The white squared tile cooled his bare feet as he moved past the double-sink and lavish commode. The sound of rushing water came from the marbled shower stall, echoing against the bathroom walls like wild ocean currents.

  The cold misty steam caked the shower stall like a winter frost, but didn’t mask the sharp fine lines that streaked through it.

  The work of a madman.

  But, the crazed vamp was nowhere to be seen.

  “Please, please, leave me alone,” she sobbed quietly, and her voice was barely audible above the rushing waters. “Please.”

  “Nicole. Baby, it’s me---Xander. Are you alright?”

  He pulled on the stall’s silver latch.

  It was locked.

  “Xander?” she whispered, and aching relief filled her tone. “Please tell me you’re here.”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  She released a soft sob. “I’m so scared.”

  “I know, baby,” he said, and the pain lodged in his own throat. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay. I’m here now. You’re safe. Unlock the door.”

  “Xander, someone was here. He kept calling my name,” she said miserably, still not making any moves to open the door. “What does he want from me? I’ve never done anything to hurt anybody.”

  “I know you haven’t, baby. Just open the door. Please.”

  He’d break the shower door if he had to.

  But, she was already frightened enough as it was.

  Looking around the large bathroom, he spied a large towel hanging from the rack and crossed the space to retrieve it. He moved back to the shower stall. “Nicole, open the door. No one is going to hurt you.”

  “I know that you would never hurt me,” she said meekly, her voice sounding closer. “You’re the only good thing in my life.”

  Sniffling, she burst into tears again.

  Then, the latch clicked open.

  Quickly, he averted his face.

  Trembling uncontrollably, she stepped from shower stall, and as she did, he wrapped the towel around her. “Xander,” she whispered and moved into his waiting arms. Crying softly, she held onto him tight. “I’m so scared.”

  “Shhh,” he whispered against her damp tresses, tightening his hold. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. And I promise that I’ll never let anyone hurt you. Not ever again.”

  And it was a promise that he’d carry to his own grave.

  Holding her hand firmly, he led her from the bathroom, but not before reading the cryptic message inscribed across the mirror’s misty glass: “you belong to me”.

  The sick bastard was even more deranged than he thought.

  She didn’t protest as he led her to the bed.

  He glanced around the room, finally spying the thin gown that lay on the bed.

  He moved to step away.

  She held onto him with a death grip. “No! Don’t leave me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured her. “I’m going to get you something to put on, okay? Where’s your robe?”

  “Ov-vver there by the closet door,” she stammered.

  He plucked the thick robe from the door hinge. His long strides carried him back to her quickly.

  She sat unmoved on the bed, her shoulders slumped over .

  He passed her the robe. “Here, put this on.”

  He turned his back to her as she slid into it. When he turned around, she was standing and tying the sash around her waist.

  “We have to call the police,” she muttered, and a dazed expression covered her face. “But, what will I say? How did he get in, Xander? How does he keep doing this?”

  The words escaped him as he looked at her closely.

  She’d never be able to accept the ugly, haunting truth.

  “Don’t worry about the police,” he murmured, avoiding her direct questions. “I’ll talk to them.”

  He dialed the 911 operator.

  Thankfully, he received a more responsive technician this time.

  He sat down beside her. “The authorities are on
their way.”

  “Is he going to kill me?” she asked, biting her trembling lips. But, still, her soft sob broke free. “Am I going to end up like those other poor, defenseless women that he’s murdered? It was him, Xander---the same guy as before. I can tell it was by his voice. Only this time, he was more frightening than before.” Dropping her head, she clasped her shaky hands together. “I don’t want to die, Xander.”

  “I’m going to kill the fucking bastard when I get my hands on him,” he vowed angrily, staring at the side of her face. “I promise you, Nicole. He will never hurt you again. We’re not going to let him win.”

  She looked up at him unseeingly. “I don’t know if I have any fight left in me.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re brave and strong-willed.”

  “But, I don’t feel so brave and strong-willed, right now. Aren’t you the one that told me to drop my tough girl act? Well, I have. And I need something, someone. I need….you.”

  Her bold admission stunned him.

  “Please, hold me,” she whispered. “Please.”

  The tear glistened as it slid down her cheek.

  He swallowed past the hard lump in his throat.

  That’s all that he’d wanted since they’d met.

  To hold her---

  Protect her---

  Love her---

  With trembling hands, she reached out to him, and his heart shattered into a thousand pieces as he grasped her small hand.

  He was lost.

  Just like his grandfather had been long ago.

  Wrapping his arms around her tightly, he held her close.

  He’d never let her go.

  ***

  “Larry Gates, thirty-six years old. Medical license was revoked due to his involvement in a sex-slave trade ring, served three years in the state penitentiary, and was released on good behavior,” Detective Garcia added gruffly a few hours later, and then guzzled the hot, steaming coffee as if it were a nice, cold brew. He cleared his throat noisily. “Does the name ring a bell?”

  Facing him across the dining room table, she shook her head. “I have no idea who he could be.

  “Last place of employment was University Hospital where he worked with their janitorial staff. According to his co-workers, he seemed to be a pretty, harmless fellow. Yeah, right,” the detective’s stern voice was heavy with sarcasm. “How ‘harmless’ can a fellow be to leave a string of brutal murders from alleyway to alleyway.” Disgust played in the man’s last words. “If it were up to me, I’d cut the son-a-bitches rotten cock off---”

  Suddenly, static crackled from his radio. The young officer spoke clearly as he ambushed the detective with a flurry of questions and information from the handy device.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” the detective murmured distractedly, standing, and then left the room to join the others.

  And again, she was alone.

  Swallowing hard, she tried to tamper down her fear.

  The coffee mug trembled slightly as she raised it to her lips.

  The black, lukewarm liquid tasted just as she felt.

  Bitter.

  Cold.

  Empty.

  The demented stranger had stripped her bare.

  No longer could she cling to her false sense of security.

  And she’d never feel safe again.

  Especially here in this place.

  The tears pooled in her eyes.

  She blinked them away furiously.

  Hadn’t she already made a big enough idiot of herself, especially where Xander was concerned? What’s happening between us, she mulled, biting her lip. Was she just confusing his compassion with something that ran much deeper for her.

  Not even after the accident had she reached out to anyone.

  In her grief and disappointment, she’d turned her back on the world, refusing to let anyone get too close.

  Since then, she’d suffered and endured her hardships alone.

  But, Xander struck a chord deep within her.

  With him, she wanted to let go of all of her fears.

  She wanted to share her thoughts.

  Her deepest desires.

  Her passion.

  But, still, it was more than that.

  And she wouldn’t lie to herself anymore.

  She was developing deep feelings for him.

  And it definitely wasn’t some, silly school-girl crush either.

  She felt so connected to him.

  That’s absurd, she frowned.

  They’d only known one another for a little over five months.

  Unfortunately, time was hardly a factor when it came to her burgeoning feelings.

  Was it possible that she was in love with him?

  She jumped when the police radio crackled statically again, this time from the hallway, and she listened closely as a young officer responded, his voice fading as he moved further from earshot. “Yes, Detective Garcia, we’ve found prints in the living room.”

  She gripped the lapels of the robe tightly.

  She felt violated.

  How long had the mad stranger been there?

  Was he there when she’d undressed?

  Everything made so much sense now.

  He’d been toying with her all the time.

  The moved table…

  The facial cream…

  It’d all been a sick joke on his end.

  And now, he was carrying his cruel ministrations to new heights.

  A shudder of repulsion shook her body.

  How was he getting into the apartment?

  Before he’d departed, Xander had checked it carefully.

  And she’d made double sure that all doors were locked.

  It just didn’t make sense.

  Xander hadn’t even been able to give her a clear, cut answer, she thought, and he hadn’t since the madman’s first attack. Tonight, she’d sensed that he was still holding back as he’d avoided her pointed questions.

  What did he know?

  What was he protecting her from?

  “Alright, Miss Williamson,” the detective boomed loudly, and she imagined him hoisting his pants around his waist, just like they did in those popular, crime TV dramas. “This place has Gate’s signature prints all over it. We’ve just put an APB out on the sicko, and this place will be under 24 hour surveillance. We’re more than certain that he’ll return.” He paused and then cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Miss Williamson, it isn’t a good idea that you stay alone, especially since it appears that you’re his next target. Is there someone who you have in mind to call, or must I make necessary arrangements?”

  Well, she certainly didn’t want to be in a safe house.

  And she definitely didn’t want Leslie to be in any danger because of her.

  But, she did have something or rather someone in mind.

  Hopefully, she wouldn’t be refused.

  “We have specially, designed places that would be---”

  “No thanks, detective. I’ve already made arrangements,” she interrupted curtly, and pushed back her own chair. “I am more than able to take care of myself.”

  Good.

  At least some of her feisty stubbornness was returning.

  She edged towards the kitchen cabinets slowly. Pulling open the top drawer, she extracted the sharp steak knife.

  “Now, hold on, Miss Williamson, there’s no need to resort to such drastic measures. That’s what my officer’s are here for. They have all the weapons needed for your protection.”

  Lifting a brow, she waved the knife in the air. “Detective, I’ve suddenly rediscovered my manners and was about to offer you a slice of my orange sponge cake. Believe me, I’m not about to run around my apartment and wield my knife like a madwoman.”

  Detective Garcia had the grace to laugh embarrassingly. “No thanks, Miss Williamson. I’m trying to watch my waistline.”

  She stayed silent, busying herself as she lifted the round glass lid from the cake platter. Quickly, she slic
ed off a huge hunk.

  She had to move or do something.

  If she didn’t, she’d go stir crazy.

  Besides, eating had always seemed to calm her nerves.

  This time, however, she doubted it would work.

  Especially when she made her request to Xander, she thought as her teeth sunk into the cake.

  There was nothing that could possibly settle the butterflies fluttering nervously in her stomach.

  “Are you sure you don’t want any?” she asked, waving the dessert in the air.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he added. “We’re all done here. The place is still roped off, but, Sullivan ensured us that he’d take care of everything. He’s going to help you get packed and out of here.”

  The trash compactor whirred as she tossed the cake into it.

  She’d suddenly lost her appetite.

  “I can manage now, detective.”

  “Here’s my card, Miss. Williamson. If you need anything, just call,” he said curtly.

  “Thank you,” she said as she accepted the thin, business card. Surprisingly, his name and phone number were scripted in Braille. “You all have been more than helpful, and you have my deepest gratitude.”

  “We’re off then,” he said as he walked away. “Let’s go, men.”

  She followed in behind the detective and officers as they reached the living room.

  Sinking down on the sofa, she listened as Xander voiced his own appreciation.

  The butterflies flitted in her stomach.

  How could she convince him that she needed him now more than ever?

  Chapter 10

  Wincing, Xander stared at the badly damaged door.

  He’d done a banged-up job this time.

  Here lately, breaking entry had become an untimely habit.

  To say the least, Jones had been none too pleased, especially when he’d learned that he was responsible---again. But, he had smoothed the old man’s ruffled feathers easily, promising to pay double for the damages.

  He caught a flash of the officer’s blue uniform as he passed by the boarded door.

  Bending over, he peered through the large, gaping hole where a doorknob had once been. His gaze went past the widely-girthed officer on down the hallway. The elevators lay at the right edge of it, and the exit sign flashed in neon green at the end.

  From his vantage point, he could see the entire fourth floor.