Mine

by Aubrey Dark

“Where are we going?” she said.

  “We’re going to have a date,” I said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sara

  Rien wouldn’t tell me what he was doing. A date? I had no idea what he meant by that. In the operating room, he pulled out a length of cotton gauze. When he turned to me with it, I gulped.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to gag you.”

  “Then what—”

  “Turn around.”

  I obeyed, and his hands pulled the cotton gauze over my eyes. His fingers knotted the gauze at the back of my head. Everything was white and fuzzy.

  “I don’t trust you yet,” he said, his voice close to my ear. “But maybe I will be able to.”

  A frightened thrill ran through me. His hand pressed on my lower back and I let him lead me out. We stepped through to the library, and I heard the bookcase close. Then I heard a metal bolt click, and the creak of the oak door. The floor was cold under my feet.

  “We’re going into your house?” I asked.

  “I don’t let anyone back here,” he said.

  “Is that because it’s so messy you have to blindfold people to walk them through the house?”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t want you seeing any points of exit.”

  “Right. Because you don’t trust me yet.”

  “And because I want to do something to you.”

  “Wait, what?”

  I stumbled, and he caught me. He held me steady, his hand soft but firm, guiding. I felt the texture of the floor change under my feet as we moved from the hardwood floor of the library to tile. My hand clutched his upper arm, relying on him to lead me.

  “Do something to me?”

  “I won’t hurt you tonight, Sara.”

  “Alright.” That didn’t really give me much comfort. Whether or not he hurt me tonight didn’t mean anything if he planned to kill me tomorrow. But I supposed I could take it one step at a time.

  We made it into a darkened room, and when he turned the light on, all I could see was a white haze. Then I heard water running.

  “A shower?”

  “You have to get ready for our date,” Rien said.

  “Can I take this gauze off?”

  “Absolutely not. Not yet, anyway.”

  Rien let go of me for a moment. I heard a clink and a shuffle of fabric. Then his hands were on my shoulders, pulling back the torn shirt. I let him take off the ripped remainder of my clothing. I stood there naked, with only a blindfold of cotton gauze. The chill of the air stiffened my nipples almost instantly, and I crossed my arms in front of my chest. My heart raced.

  I don’t know what made me so nervous. Rien had seen me naked before, of course. He’d done a lot more to me already than he was about to do. But I couldn’t help but shiver in anxious anticipation as I stood blindly in the middle of his bathroom. Maybe it was that I couldn’t see a damn thing. Even Rien was only a shadow moving on the white cotton covering my eyes.

  “Here you go,” Rien said. His hand touched my lower back and I jumped. “It’s alright. I’ll lead you.”

  I felt the steam coming off of the shower before I stepped in. I moaned in pleasure as I ducked under the water stream. God, the hot water felt good. It had only been what, two days since I had taken a shower? I leaned back and let the water flow through my hair.

  “I foresee a problem with your plan, Rien,” I called out.

  “What’s that?”

  “How am I going to shampoo my hair with this blindfold on?”

  In response, the lights in the bathroom went out. I blinked behind my blindfold in astonishment. The white cotton gauze had taken away my vision, sure, but now everything had gone dark. It was a totally different kind of blindness.

  “You can take the blindfold off now,” Rien said. His voice was right outside, and as I pulled off the cotton gauze, I heard him come into the shower. The door closed with an audible click. Then his hand touched me on the stomach and I yelped.

  “Sorry,” he said, and although it was totally dark, I could tell that he was smiling at me. “Just trying to orient myself.” His hand touched my shoulder, and I could sense him moving around to my back. The shower was big, but not that big, and his hand stayed on my shoulder as he moved.

  “Why are you making me take a shower in the dark, again?” I asked. “Because there really aren’t any exit points in here, unless you count the drain, and I’m not escaping down that way.”

  “Oh, I just like taking showers in the dark,” Rien said. Again, I could see his smile without seeing it. “I thought you would enjoy it, too.”

  “I think I need to be able to see my body to know if I’m clean or not,” I said.

  “Don’t worry,” Rien said. “I’ll make sure every inch of you is clean.”

  His hand smoothed my shoulder and I felt a bar of soap sliding across my back. He rubbed the soap over my skin. True to his word, he didn’t leave a single place untouched. At my shoulders, his hands kneaded, massaging me. I let out a sigh as I felt my tensions melting away. Not all of my tensions, of course. This was a murderer who was giving me a shoulder rub in the shower; I wasn’t about to forget that. But most of them.

  His other hand came around my front with the bar of soap. I gasped as I felt his chest press against my back. He slid the soap across my stomach, then up between my breasts. I moaned as he rubbed my breasts, his hands slippery and hot, fondling, stroking, cupping and squeezing. His fingers slid in a slow pinch around my nipples, twisting slightly until I cried out, then letting go. I could hear his breath against my ear as he continued to squeeze, and his cock stiffened against my back.

  “I… I think the girls are clean by now, Rien.”

  “You can never be too sure.”

  Was that a joke? Was he joking? His moods were so variable. I couldn’t tell what was pretend and what was real.

  His hand slid down between my thighs. Slippery with soap, he stroked me up and down, cleaning me in areas only I’d ever touched. In the darkness, I felt his hands, his chest, his cock.

  “Tilt your head back,” he said. His hand was on my chin. I let him guide me under the stream of hot water, letting the warmth flow through my hair. Then his hands came up and I felt him rubbing shampoo into my hair in slow circles. His fingers ran across my scalp, sending thrills down my spine. One hand came forward, encircling my throat. I breathed in sharply and he held my throat as calmly and steadily as he had before. Mine, he told me with his hands. You’re mine.

  The other hand continued to lather as he tortured me with gentle squeezes. My breath hitched as his fingernails sent electrical pulses through my skull. He held my head in his hands like he was one of those quacks who study phrenology, studying the bumps on my head with his fingertips. He smoothed conditioner over my wet hair, his fingers untangling the mess slowly, patiently. Everything about him was patient. It felt like it had been forever since I had been in the shower.

  Dark, so dark. I closed my eyes and imagined his face. His eyes sparkling with gold flecks. His sharp jaw, the dark stubble defining his chin. The soft dark locks hanging down to his brow. His hands moved, sliding over my head, my throat, back to my shoulders.

  He turned me so that I was facing sideways. My fingers brushed his erection and I heard him take a sharp inward breath. His reaction was an unbelievable turn on. Then he leaned forward and his whisper made my heart flutter.

  “Touch me,” he said.

  I let my fingers find their way along his shaft, stroking lightly. As I touched him, his hands continued to caress my arms, my back, my stomach with soap. His cock jumped in my hand and I bit my lip. His desire ignited mine, like nothing else had done before. The darkness enveloped us, closing around us with warm water and steam and the fresh scent of soap.

  Then his hand curved around my ass, circling back. I whimpered as his fingers slid down, touching me in the back. I froze, my hand squeezing the base of his cock, as his fingers ran lightly across my pucker. Slipper
y, probing.

  “Rien—”

  “Is this new to you?”

  All of it, I wanted to say. This was all new to me. My previous love affairs had been dreary and one-dimensional. Other actors, who acted in the bedroom as they would have acted in a love scene, cameras rolling. Never anything new, never anything real. Sex like they were reading their blocking from a script.

  But this… this was real. Exciting. Terrifying. His fingers thrilled me, and I moved my hand along his length, wanting to give back to him what he had given to me. He pulled me against him tightly, his hand still exploring me. In the darkness, I could hear his heartbeat begin to quicken.

  My asshole was burning with sensation as his fingertip moved in circles over the puckered flesh. Every nerve of mine fluttered when he paused at my entrance. Then he pushed inside, just a bit, and I gasped with shock. Stars burst in the black air of the shower and I clutched his other arm with my free hand to keep from falling.

  “Sara,” he murmured. His finger pushed in, then withdrew. Pushed in, then withdrew. I cried out. The sensation was like nothing else I had ever felt before. The strange feeling of his finger probing me, expanding me. The nerves that had never been touched like this by anyone else. Then he withdrew completely, and I whimpered, my hand closing around his cock.

  He took my hand in his and pressed it between his palms.

  “Finish showering and come out to the bedroom,” he said, kissing me lightly on the forehead. Water streamed down between our bodies. “If you need a razor, there’s one by the soap dish. I’m going to get some things ready.” The shower door opened, and I felt a burst of cool air come in from the bathroom.

  “The blindfold?” I asked. My thoughts were whirling. He was leaving me with a razor. Did that mean he trusted me?

  “No,” he said. “You’ve been very good. You may leave it off. But don’t go wandering around.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  As he left the bathroom, he flicked a switch and a dim light came on. After the total darkness, it was like being illuminated by the sun. Rien’s shadow passed over the doorway, and then he was gone.

  I looked all around me, taking in my surroundings. The shower was a cream marble tile, and there was a razor exactly where he’d said it would be. He’d left a towel hanging over the glass door of the shower. I smoothed shaving cream over my legs and shaved quickly.

  He trusted me. He trusted me. The thought pounded in my mind as I finished cleaning up. My stomach was in knots. Why was I so worried? I’d been on a thousand bad dates before. A date with a serial killer… well, how bad could it be?

  I rinsed, turned off the shower, and toweled myself off. Stepping out of the bathroom, I saw a dress lying on the bed. It was a strapless evening gown, green with gold beading at the waist. There was a note lying next to it.

  Dress up for me. Then wait here.

  I picked up the dress, touching the silk fabric in wonder. He must have gotten my size from the dress I’d been wearing when I first arrived.

  Two days ago. That was it. Two days in this place, and I felt like another person. As I pulled the dress over my head and adjusted it on my hips, I wondered what Rien was doing to me. Looking in the mirror, I tried to see myself as I looked now. Was I an impostor? Or was I more real now? My heart was beating fast as I combed my hair out with my fingers. I wanted Rien to see me, to think that I was beautiful. I wanted him to hold me, to take me, to—

  “What’s happening to me?” I asked my reflection. She didn’t answer. Neither one of us knew if the world we were living in was real.

  Rien

  I whistled as I reduced the sauce in the steak pan. The night had been fragmented, but I had come up with an idea that I was certain would work. This would be the final test, and then I would have to decide.

  Jake still hadn’t contacted me, and Vale would expect me to have the proof ready for him tomorrow. If I could trust her, then things would be easy. If not…

  Well, I didn’t want to think about that.

  I set dinner up in front of the fireplace in the main room. That’s right, the fireplace. Every mansion in Hollywood has a fireplace, as if we all agreed to reject the reality that Southern California is hot and humid year-round. I lit the fire and adjusted the tablecloth on the small table. No candle, just firelight. Perfect.

  When I went to get her, she was sitting on the bed. I wanted to throw her back and ravish her right then. Her eyes sparkled green, the color matching her dress perfectly. She blushed when I told her how beautiful she looked. Everything was stupidly perfect. If I wasn’t supposed to kill her by tomorrow night, I would be utterly relaxed.

  “You made me dinner?” she asked. “I don’t think anyone’s made me dinner before.”

  “Your mom never made you dinner?”

  “She was always working,” Sara said, her face expressionless. I wanted to pull her out from behind that mask, and let her know that she could be her true self around me. Flaws and all.

  I guided her to the main room and pulled out the chair for her. A gentleman killer. I poured her a glass of wine and touched my glass to hers.

  “To your health,” I said.

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “How can you do this?”

  “Excuse me?” I tucked my napkin over my lap.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “How can you kill these people?”

  “I told you,” I said, spearing a carrot with my fork. “The people I kill are murderers themselves, or worse. It’s a relief to me and a relief to society.”

  “And the police don’t care?”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “The Feds sweep it all under the rug. Vale handles his business well.”

  “Vale?”

  “My boss. Look. It’s my job. That’s all. That’s what happens with a job. You just shut up and do what has to be done.”

  “Do what has to be done?”

  “They’re murderers, Sara. And they’re cowardly murderers at that.”

  “What do you mean, cowardly?”

  “Like Mr. Steadhill in there. They murder indirectly. They don’t get their hands dirty. They’re afraid of dirty work.”

  “And you’re not.”

  “Me, I get the job done.”

  “Except this one?”

  She stared across the table at me, taunting me with her stare. As though she wouldn’t be dead already if I hadn’t spared her. Her emerald eyes bored a hole through me. I longed to kiss her again, to gaze into her eyes as I brought her to pleasure. And then, as though reading my stare, her eyelashes fluttered downward.

  “You’re right,” I said, my voice dark with everything I wanted to say and couldn’t. “Except this one.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Rien

  “You have a fireplace,” Sara noted. “That’s strange.”

  “Why is it strange?”

  “What you told me about when you were a kid. And that girl.”

  “You think I should be afraid of fire?”

  “Well…”

  “There isn’t anything I’m more afraid of,” I said. “But fear is one of the most primal emotions. When I’m afraid, I’m awake. You can’t run away from things you’re afraid of.”

  A moment passed. The flames danced in her eyes.

  “I wish—”

  She cut off her sentence, and I took her hand in mine across the small table. She looked up at me with a gleam of tears in her eyes.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I wish this wasn’t a prison. I wish I had met you somewhere else.”

  “If you had met me somewhere else, I wouldn’t have seen the real you, would I?”

  “No. No, I suppose not.” She cast her eyes downwards. “Have you decided what you’re going to do with me?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  She bit her lip, and I wanted to hold her and tell her that it would all be fine. Bu
t of course I didn’t know if it would be.

  “Sara, I need to ask you something.”

  “Yes?”

  She looked up hopefully.

  “You talked with Mr. Steadhill about his wife.”

  The fire in her eyes died. She swallowed another sip of wine, but I could still see the disappointment in her face. I hated to disappoint her. Hopefully, after tonight, I wouldn’t have to.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Did you ever meet her?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “Susan? No. I have no idea.”

  “What else did he say to you about her?”

  “We just talked about what she was like. How she acted. So that I could act like her.”

  “Did he mention her going anywhere? Maybe in hiding?”

  “No. I didn’t even know they were in the witness protection program until he told you,” Sara said. She shifted in her seat. “He said they had been fighting.”

  “Maybe another house she owns? A favorite hotel?”

  Sara looked up at me, her eyes narrowing.

  “I don’t know where Susan Steadhill is,” she repeated flatly.

  I sighed. I leaned back in my chair and downed the rest of my wine. It frustrated me beyond end to not have any leads. I didn’t know whether I hoped that she was telling me the truth or if I hoped she was lying. If she was lying, then there was still a possibility I could find Susan tomorrow before Vale came. If not…

  “Why do you care?”

  I shook myself out of my reverie.

  “I need to give them teeth.”

  “Teeth?” Her voice rose in disbelief.

  “Proof, I mean. Teeth are proof. I was supposed to kill her. I need to find her. I need to kill her. That bastard on the table says she’s in Brazil.”

  “So are you going to go to Brazil?”

  “No. I don’t believe him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if she left for Brazil already, the feds would have been on it. They wouldn’t have let you walk through my door. They would have known you weren’t her.”

  “So she’s still in L.A.,” Sara said, her eyes narrowing.

  “That’s my guess. Pretending to be someone else.”