The Beast

by Jaden Wilkes

  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” Columbia replied in a steady voice. “I will be taking Eden and moving out. I can’t live with you anymore, the sight of you makes me sick.”

  “You’re the sick one, always coming on to me, crying for me to stick it in you. Asking me if you could suck it,” he said, matching her tone. “You’ve been a freak from day one, and a little slut too.”

  Columbia stood up and turned to walk to her room. She heard his chair scrape the floor behind her as he pushed himself away from the table. She turned, as if in slow motion, and saw him coming for her. His fist connected with her face and everything turned to red.

  Chapter Twenty Three – Dimitri

  The most difficult thing he’d ever done was let her go. He watched on the monitors as she left his apartment and got onto the elevator. As she walked away, he felt his entire existence shrink, like the air had been sucked from the room. He walked to the guest room where she had spent the night and curled up on the bed. He held the pillow against him, it still smelled like her. He fell asleep like that, pathetic, sniffing a pillow, curled on a bed that was too small for him...and feeling lonely.

  When he woke up he tried to imagine what she was doing. It was evening, so he went into his office and sat at his desk, trying to summon her to his side through sheer will alone.

  He knew it had been the right decision; she was fragile and unable to survive in his world. He knew she had a fire in her, but that would take years to develop...if she survived his nightly rages.

  He’d never slept with anyone, so he never knew what he did in his sleep. Most mornings he woke covered in sweat, the sheets twisted around his body and the bed a mess. It never occurred to him that he was haunted by Sergei in both worlds, waking and sleeping.

  He found her information with ease, and tracked her bank account. He set up a transfer from an offshore business account of his, entered a number, thought about her tinkling laugh and her velvety cunt and added an extra zero to the total. Money was nothing to him, more of a means to fuck with Sergei than anything else, but he knew in her world it would make a difference. He never wanted her to make bad choices based on her finances; at least he could give her that.

  Perhaps in time, once he eliminated Sergei and took control of the Bratva himself, he would be able to come back for her. If they could sleep in separate beds, she should be ok. He wasn’t sure running the Bratva was the thing he wanted to do though, but if it meant keeping her safe, he would do it.

  Until then, Sergei would delight in finding out about her, finding out about Dimitri’s major weakness.

  His transactions done, he texted the concierge. It was Thursday; he would be home in the morning. Most likely he was in the air at the moment, but Dimitri needed to connect with somebody else to rid himself of the feeling that he was the last person in the world.

  “Followed your advice, ready to jump on time,” is all he wrote. He knew this would please the concierge, but it still made him feel sick to his stomach.

  He got up and went to the gym, a few hours in there would clear his head and help him ease the pain of losing Columbia, his little dove.

  *****

  “Excellent choice,” the concierge said as Dimitri pointed at a random colour on a paint palette in his hand. “That was the last decision, I will get these off to the designer at once.” He shot him a side-glance as he left the room, but Dimitri barely noticed.

  He was in a funk. That’s what the concierge called it anyhow. They had been going over the plans for the penthouse in Hong Kong and Dimitri couldn’t recall a single thing he chose. He would not be surprised if every colour led back to something that reminded him of Columbia. Her black, thick hair showing up in the black leather furnishings. Her green, sparkling eyes in the jewel tone paint. He simply didn’t fucking care about his surrounding unless she were with him. He felt like letting her go had been the worst decision he’d ever made.

  He sat in a club chair in the middle of his bedroom...their bedroom...and stared out at the mountain. He remembered Columbia’s delight with the windows and the view...and his cock. He craved her on his cock; he craved being inside of her. He was beginning to wonder if he would ever be the same.

  “Let’s discuss packing, what will you be bringing from this place?” the concierge asked as he returned to the room. “I have compiled a list if you would like to go over it. The Renoir from the Library, for example. I know you love that piece.”

  Dimitri waved his hand towards a small pile of clothing on his nightstand. “I’m taking that,” he said.

  “What is that?” the concierge asked, his nose in the air. “Do you want me to pack it now?”

  “No!” Dimitri growled and stood up. “I will keep it with me.” He strode to the bed and picked up the pile. It was the hoodie, tights, bra and underwear from Columbia’s first night here. The things he’d taken from her when she broke in. He held them up to his face and inhaled her scent. He knew he looked like a crazy man, an insane idiot, but he didn’t care. Everything was meaningless without her by his side.

  “Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” the concierge asked, concern on his face.

  “I don’t know if I can ever explain it,” Dimitri replied, “it was...I don’t know, my friend. I’ll only know I’ll never be the same.”

  “You made the right choice though,” the concierge reassured him, “she would have been a walking target. You saved her life by letting her go before Sergei’s people made the connection.”

  “I know,” Dimitri agreed, “but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

  The concierge stood wordlessly for a moment, then launched into a detailed explanation of their travel plans. Dimitri didn’t hear a word the other man said, but was eternally grateful for the distraction. His old friend knew exactly what he needed to make it through the next few hours...days...years...however long it took him to be able to breathe without thinking of her face with every beat of his heart.

  *****

  The concierge shook him sometime during the night. “You need to wake up, you need to see this,” he told Dimitri.

  Dimitri slowly surfaced into consciousness and sat up in the bed. He took a moment to gather his thoughts and said, “What is it? Are we in danger?”

  “No,” the concierge said, “but your friend might be.”

  “What friend?” Dimitri asked, cleared his throat and went on, “What is going on?”

  “Your girl, she’s at the front. I didn’t know if I should let her in or not,” the concierge told him, “I needed to ask you first. This is entirely up to you, but you know I think she doesn’t belong with us.”

  “She belongs nowhere else,” Dimitri said and pushed himself out of bed. “Go, let her in! Send her back! She has returned to me.”

  The concierge left in a hurry and Dimitri pulled some loose pants and a tee shirt on. He suddenly felt bashful in front of Columbia and didn’t want to greet her in the nude.

  He paced at the end of the bed a few times when he heard the concierge in the hall. “Don’t just go in there, let me tell him you’re here.”

  Columbia clearly didn’t listen, the door swung open and she was there, a glorious vision in yellow and red. She stopped and the concierge appeared behind her. “I tried to tell her-” he started to say, but Dimitri waved him off, the concierge left and shut the door behind him.

  He noticed the blood then. She was wearing the same yellow dress she’d left in, but she was covered in blood. Her hair looked matted with it, her face was smeared with it and there were huge sprays of it down the front of her dress. Dimitri had killed enough people to know that she had been involved in a bloody and violent struggle.

  “My god,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “Columbia, what’s happened? Are you ok?”

  She started to cry, her tears running down and streaking through the blood on her cheeks. She walked towards him, slowly, on trembling legs. He noticed a cut above her left eye and a spreading
bruise. He never hit her there; he knew this was fresh. “I killed him,” she cried out as she reached him. He opened his arms and cradled her against his chest. He could do nothing but hold her close as she sobbed.

  “Who did you kill?” he asked, but already knew the answer.

  “My father,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest, “I took a knife and I stabbed him. I stabbed him so many times. There was so much blood...I never knew there would be so much blood.”

  “Shhh it’s ok,” he told her and stroked her hair. He could feel the dried blood there, she smelled of it too, pungent and tangy. “You did the right thing, coming to me, I can help.”

  “I can’t go back,” she sobbed again, “I can’t go home, the police will take me.”

  “It’s ok,” he said, trying to soothe her, “It’s ok, it’s all over, and soon you won’t remember a thing. It will be all in the past.”

  She raised her head and looked at him, her face streaked with blood and tears, her eyes shining and fierce. She grabbed his arms and gripped hard, her face intense and she said, “That’s just it, Dimi. I don’t want to forget. I liked it...I liked it so, so much.”

  His heart swelled to hear her speak those words. The one thing that had kept them separate now cleaved them in ways he could share with no other. He recognized her killer’s heart, and knew she would match him in the art of assassination. He had met his match, from head to toe, through and through, she was the one for him.

  “My love, little dove, my heart...to hear you say that,” he said and kissed her. She had her lips parted, waiting for him, and he could taste the tang of her father’s blood mixed with the salt of her tears. She was fierce and magnificent, and she would survive in his world.

  “I need you,” she said and stepped back, tore off the blood soaked dress, dropped it to the floor and kicked off her boots. “Fuck me,” she told him, “don’t make me beg.”

  He pulled his tee shirt off, it was now red with the blood from her fresh kill, and threw it on top of her clothing. She couldn’t wait; she pulled his pants down and stood in front of him, her face full of hunger.

  He lifted her and took her to their bed. He was entranced with her beautiful blood-streaked face, like a proud warrior queen of old, fresh from battle. She was smiling as he pushed her legs apart and climbed between them. “Don’t ever send me away again,” she said as he ran his hands all over her body, marveling that she was in front of him. “I can’t survive out there, without you. Please let me stay.”

  “I will never let you go,” he vowed to her and slid upwards to find her entrance. He knew in that moment, when he pushed inside of her for the first time since realizing how much he needed her, that he would never destroy her. He might have his dark predilections and urges, but her love, this pure, savage love would keep her safe in his arms. Together they would walk through the night, rolling and twisting like titans in each other’s arms, but in the morning they would be whole and better for having faced the dark by each other’s side. “I love you,” he said and held still inside of her tight heat. His cock pulsed against her cunt as they stared into each other’s eyes.

  “I love you too,” she replied and held onto his arms. “I love you more than I ever imagined possible. I thought I was dead before you, you gave me life.”

  “This must be love,” he said and leaned down to caress her neck while he withdrew his length from her pussy with excruciating precision. He thrust himself back inside of her, back where he belonged and felt her cunt tighten around him, pulling him further inside.

  “Yes,” she said with a sigh and let her head fall to the side in absolute bliss, “Yes, this is love.”

  He increased his pace and her body reacted under him, she pulled herself up towards him and hung off his broad shoulders. He sat up and brought her with him, impaling her further on his cock, slamming into her. They were entwined and upright, she wrapped her legs around his hips and clung to him in her need.

  “I love you so much,” he whispered into her ear and wrapped a hand around her throat. At first she gasped and leaned her head back to accommodate his large hands. He was gentle with his grip, aware of how sore she must be after the other night.

  After a moment or two he could feel her need building and knew she is going to come at any moment. He waited for it, the anticipation building his pleasure almost as much as the act itself.

  Perfectly timed, she pulled herself up again, turned her blood-streaked face towards his forearm, replied, “I love you too,” and latched her teeth on.

  They came together, pain and blood and sweat and tears a testament to the bond they were forging in that moment. Something deeper than love, something bigger than either of them, and something so far beyond the realm of normal that it was almost mythical.

  Epilogue

  “Madame?” the crisp French waiter asked when Columbia raised her hand.

  “L’addition, s’il vous plait,” she said and rubbed her thumb and forefinger indicating she wanted the cheque. He nodded at her and smiled as he left to get it from the counter inside.

  “Your French is improving remarkably,” Dimitri told her and put his hand on hers. They were seated at a small cafe in the 10th arrondissement of Paris. It was a brilliant summer day and the street was busy with people coming and going. Both tourists and locals alike paid no attention to the well-dressed, elegant couple seated at the sidewalk patio of one of the hundreds of such cafes in the district.

  Dimitri was less noticeable these days. They’d spent some months in Hong Kong where Columbia had convinced him to consult with some of the world’s best plastic surgeons to help repair the worst burns on his face. There was still a little evidence of the attack, it would never entirely go away, but now it appeared more of a shadow or a blemish than ruined flesh.

  They’d decided to leave the rest alone though. In some twisted fatalism, the two had decided their scars were part of the reason they fell in love, part of the reason they found one another. Columbia would giggle as she rubbed Dimitri’s bumpy spots, and Dimitri was endlessly fascinated while tracing the patterns Columbia had etched into her skin.

  She hadn’t cut herself since being with him. They were both grateful for that. Initially they had worried about Dimitri’s nightmares, but a custom platinum collar lined with red velvet became her protection from his choking at night. She’d stopped using it all together a few months ago though, the longer he was with her, the less he dreamed of things that made him fight.

  Their home was in Malta at the moment. Columbia loved their private beach, their sprawling mansion and manicured grounds. Eden came to visit from time to time, but never her mother. Her mother didn’t believe that Columbia had been abused and blamed her for the murder, even though mother and daughter were set up with more money than she could gamble away in a lifetime. Eden’s visits got longer each time, and they both suspected she would choose to live with them at some time in the future.

  The concierge was ever present no matter where they lived. He had finally dropped his guard around Columbia; in fact he now followed her around like a lovesick boy. This was a source of amusement for Dimitri though, he knew the love that he had with Columbia was not threatened by any other man on the planet. He also knew his old friend would never dare to touch his woman and risk being torn apart.

  “I love Paris,” she said and sipped the last of her coffee as Dimitri settled the cheque. The waiter smiled at her, and blushed when she smiled back. She looked at Dimitri and laughed when she saw his bemused look.

  “It looks like Paris loves you too,” he told her after the waiter left.

  “What can I say? Everybody loves me,” she told him with a wink. She looked over his shoulder and played with the knot on the beautiful red scarf at her throat.

  He noticed it and grimaced. He hated that he hurt her in any way. “I am so sorry,” he told her and grabbed her hand. “I was too rough last night.”

  She shook her head and replied, “Don’t ever apologize
for loving me so hard that it hurts. Every time you take me to the edge of death, and let me live, I know I am your truest love. I know you would die without me, and I cherish that with every beat of my heart.”

  He looked down at his bicep, under his dress shirt it is was aching and bruised from her bites and said, “I feel your love too, little dove.” Last night’s bite a perfect twin to the bite shaped tattoo he now wore permanently over his heart. She smiled and he leaned across the table to kiss her deeply.

  She pulled back suddenly and said, “There he is, Dimi, the fucker who did this to you.”

  He was still a little shocked at the language that fell from her perfect lips at times, but he looked at his watch and said, “Right on time. Exactly where we knew he would be.”

  Sergei was a creature of habit after all, and his current habit would become his downfall. His obsession with a Parisian chanteuse would force him to yield his underbelly every time he exited her apartment, every time he left her soft bed and softer curves, he was vulnerable. Dimitri and Columbia were here to take advantage of this vulnerability. Every time Dimitri thought about killing Sergei with his true love by his side, his heart did a comedic flip flop and his love for her grew ten fold. He grabbed her hand, felt for the knife under his shirt, tucked on the belt across his chest, and said, “Are you ready for this?”

  She felt for her own knife now strapped to her midsection, only taken off when they were naked and safe in each other’s company. She grinned at him and said, “I’m so ready. Let’s go get your revenge, my love, then go back to our hotel room and fuck like animals.” He loved the way she always seemed to pick up on his thoughts.

  They stood up and walked together, following the man they were here to destroy. Sergei walked with a slight limp now, and it was a warm afternoon, so they soon caught up to him exactly where they had planned.