Aaron: Book Three (Scars 3)

by West, Sinden

  Aaron: Book Three of the Scars Series

  by

  Sinden West

  Copyright@2015 Sinden West

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Other works by Sinden West:

  Vicious

  Shy

  This Darkest Man

  SCRYER SERIES

  Scryer

  The Scryer Wife

  SCARS SERIES

  Scars

  Memory

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter One

  The nightmare woke me. My hands curled into claws to grip the sheets while I clenched my teeth and forced my ragged breathing back under control. She didn’t stir; not even a little bit. Her fair hair fanned over the pillow and on her face was a look of peace. Her lips tilted up slightly into a faint smile. What did she dream about while I dreamt of demons? Did she live out a fantasy where she was the predator and I the prey?

  This girl lying beside me couldn’t have been further from the demoness in my dream. No red glow emanated from beneath her lids; her teeth were not razor sharp and her nails were blunt. How could she sleep like that‒so motionless‒in my bed? Next to me of all people? She should have come to her senses by now and run again, but she hadn’t. She’d stayed.

  The very first time I’d seen her was in the prison when I was visiting my uncle. I had heard of her, of course. Mostly, I had ignored his rambling. I didn’t need his shit, even though I owed him.

  She was not as beautiful as he made out. His description of her made her sound like she had an ethereal quality to her—pale skin, yellow hair.

  “Her beauty disguises the evil within her. She’s a psychopath.” As I sat opposite him in the prison visiting room, I wondered and not for the first time, if he had finally gone crazy. The alcohol had been addling his brain for years, aging him and changing him, inside and out. “You’ll help me.” He was confident as he said that and I had to stop myself from bristling. I hated when anyone assumed anything. I looked away from him and around the room. I knew a few of the men there and they gave nods in my direction. I had made sure that my uncle was protected in prison. That wasn’t enough though. I owed him.

  He pushed the creased picture toward me and the smiling girl holding an ice cream stared up at me. The smell of semen wafted up and I made sure not to touch the photograph. So he’d been tossing off to the image of her still? He was obsessed. I didn’t need this. I could just walk away. I’d spent a lot of money paying off the last woman so she would disappear without a fuss. Though, to be fair, he hadn’t asked for my help. I had turned up at his house after not hearing from him for a month and found the beaten girl unconscious on the floor. I stepped over her and moved further into the house. He was drunk and lying on his bed.

  “What did you do?” I asked him.

  He barely moved his head. “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of control, but the bitch stole from me.”

  I studied him. Once I had thought him larger than life, a superhero figure almost, but right then, he just looked like a sad old drunk; someone who wasn’t even capable of beating the thin woman who lay bleeding on the carpet.

  “So what are you going to do? She’s still alive. Do you want her dead?” I knew that I sounded like I didn’t care, but I wanted to know what his answer would be. I wanted to know if he had the guts.

  “I don’t want the bitch to die,” he slurred, so quietly that I could barely make it out.

  “It would probably be easier to get rid of her body than to get her medical treatment. People are going to ask questions.”

  His mouth twisted, like he was either going to vomit or cry. “I’m not a killer.”

  I’m not a killer…

  Those words had such a hidden meaning that it was hard not to flinch. Of course I didn’t. I had spent my life forming an exterior of stone.

  “Take her to the hospital.”

  I stared down at the pathetic man. He was giving me orders like I was twelve years old again. But what he’d done for me…

  “I’ll take care of it.” I wasn’t sure if he heard me because his eyes were fluttering closed.

  He looked no better than he had then even as he sat sober in the prison visiting area, except now there was almost an air of glee about him.

  “I found her.” He passed over a newspaper article with a picture of three girls and a small caption beneath it.

  “She’s dead?”

  “No, those were her friends.” He tapped on the image of the girl who stood off to the side. “She’s been living up life while I’ve been stuck in here rotting.”

  I sighed, tearing my eyes away from the picture.

  “And?”

  He leaned forward, his eyes glittering with more life than I had seen in him for a long while. “I want to break her. I want to crush that little whore until the demon in her is dead and that carcass falls free from her body.”

  “So you want her dead.”

  “No.” Heads turned in our direction briefly, and then they went back to their business. He shrugged his shoulders like he was shaking off a weight. “No. When she’s broken, then she can be reborn. It will be like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, something beautiful and graceful. She can have another chance…”

  He sounded almost wistful and I heard my heart thumping. He was crazy. He was fucking crazy. He would murder this girl, whether he wanted to or not and I’d be stuck cleaning up the fucking mess. Shit. Why did I even care?

  “I’ll do it,” I said finally. “I’ll make her into whatever the hell it is that you want her to be, if that’ll make you happy. I won’t take the risk of another dead body to hide, so we’ll do it my way. Do you understand?”

  His face had broken into a smile. “You’re a good boy, Aaron.”

  Now, in the room next to that girl in the photograph, I collapsed back down on the pillow. “You’re a good boy, Aaron,” I whispered into the darkness. My mom used to say that. It was a line that came from her mouth automatically every time she tended to my wounds. It was like it was all that she could think to say. At least she didn’t lie and tell me that she would leave him. It just was what it was and we both knew it. There was no point dwelling on it.

  I sighed. There would be no more sleep for me, plus dawn wasn’t far off. I slid from the bed, careful not to disturb her and grabbed a pair of gym shorts. I’d work out. That way there would be a legitimate reason for the sweat. No way would I admit to getting freaked out by some weird dream. I started on the treadmill, ready to run some miles. I had the machine pointed directly at the faces in the mural. I liked to see every single day the things that I had done.

  Is that why you keep Rachel around?

  I increased the speed on the treadmill. I wanted to run myself to the maximum until I was too exhausted to think anymore. Power pulsed through me as my feet pounded down. I felt fucking invincible as I pushed my body to its limits. The pain travelling through me as I forced my body on like it was a machine acted like an elixir, spurring me on even more and infusing me with strength.

  I sensed her, just like I always did. It wasn’t her scent or the sounds that she made, because
she always moved lightly as if she thought she could creep up on me. It was just…her.

  I slowed the machine down until it came to a stop before turning to face her. She stood in the doorway. A short, red silk robe covered her nakedness now. She looked impossibly sexy and I felt my cock twitch with desire. My first instinct was to grab her, strip her and have her ride me right there on the floor.

  But the dream kept coming back to me, leaving my mouth dry with…what? Horror? Fear? Whatever it was, the desire died swiftly.

  “What are you doing up?” I asked her.

  She shrugged, still looking half asleep. “Are you having breakfast here or leaving?”

  “Go shower. I’ll make something for us.”

  She turned sleepily back toward the direction of the bedroom. In the farmhouse, she had been the one to cook, forced by me. She was fucking terrible at it, but how she looked, nude in the kitchen…Hell it was the sickest, dominant fantasy that one could have, and I had nearly let it, no her, let her turn me on and lose sight of what I was there for.

  It was on a much larger scale than anything else that I had ever done. If my job was to give someone a fright to get them to do what they were told, it would be a swift action and not drawn out torture unless it was absolutely necessary. The longer you kept someone away from their normal life and routine, the easier it would be to get caught and leave evidence.

  But she, she was different. I lost my head with her for a time.

  At first, I had just treated her like a job. The house was ready. The electricity was on and the kitchen stocked with food, and all I had to do was to wait. Her life wasn’t that interesting. Her boyfriend was some loser with his pants half way down his ass who was screwing around on her with another girl. The mother’s boyfriend was boring and didn’t appear to be too bright. The mother herself, on the other hand, was like a snake. She had a cunning intellect in her eyes and she wasn’t like how she had been portrayed in the diary at all. How addled had my uncle’s brain been when he was with her? She was screwing her boss late at night, straddling his fat lap behind his desk with the blinds half open. The dumb boyfriend didn’t have a clue.

  The blonde girl, Rachel, or Paige as she went by, looked sour. She had a misery about her, but she was tough. I could tell. I’d been reading his diary. The girl was a piece of work, so was the mother, although he hadn’t realized that. The mother wasn’t the angel that he thought she was, but that wasn’t my problem. The girl was my job. I would get the girl, do what he wanted with her, and then scare the shit out of her to keep her mouth shut once he got what he wanted.

  And then, my debt was done. I wasn’t no hero worshipping kid anymore and he needed to fucking learn that.

  When it was time to act, I sat in the car watching where she worked. She had left her shift at the diner late and began to walk. The streets were silent and she swerved toward an alleyway. That’s when I took action. I backed the car up to the alleyway, blocking it and got out the syringe.

  For some reason she had stopped and was staring at the sky. Her hair was a pale sheath in the darkness and for just a moment, I could see what he saw in her and paused. Just then, in the darkness, she was beautiful, appearing unworldly almost. I stood there staring, out in the open and stupid. But then I remembered myself and got down to business. My footsteps were silent in the dark and she never even heard me coming.

  It was so wrong how easy it was just to take someone and to steal them away.

  After I placed her limp body in the trunk of the car, the oddest feeling of power came over me and I stopped for a moment before closing it. Everything about this girl was now in my hands. She was at my mercy.

  A heat came over me at the memory. Fuck it. I needed my dick in her now. I stripped off and went to join her in the shower. She stood there with her eyes closed as the water rained down on her like she was in heaven. She let her eyes open just a crack as I slipped in beside her, cupping her full breasts before beginning to soap them. Her nipples hardened and she stretched her head back slightly and gave a small moan. She must have still been half asleep, because normally she fought against the way I made her feel; the way I could make her body mine with such ease like it was made for me and only me.

  I forced my tongue into her mouth as I lifted her up, parting her legs and holding her in place against the tile.

  “You want?” I whispered.

  She tried to arch toward me as best she could in response but I held her firm.

  “How much?” I hissed in her ear, before sucking on her beautiful neck. I felt her breathing heavily against my mouth. I wanted another moan. My mouth moved up to kiss her jaw and then to move over to her open and panting mouth, but before I could place my lips there, she spoke.

  “As much as you want me,” she finally answered. “I want your cock just as much as you want what I have right here.” She nodded down to indicate her spread legs but never moved her eyes from mine.

  My mouth moved into a smile before I could even think about it, and then I pushed into her waiting and wet pussy, hard and right up to the hilt. She gasped and her eyes widened before sliding half closed in a lusty haze as I moved within her. This was what she wanted. I didn’t know if it was actually me that she desired, but this, right here, in this shower, she was getting what she needed as her nails grazed against my back and her breathing became rapid and uneven and all of her clenched around me as I exploded inside of her, trapped right there between her thighs.

  Chapter Two

  I didn’t let her down after I came in her. I held her there with my cock still inside her.

  Her neck.

  That was all I saw. It was delicate and flawless, holding no marks to spell out the history of all I had done.

  She was lucky. That’s what I was thinking as I had put the noose over her head on that first day at the farmhouse. I could have put her in the basement, but instead I chose the barn. The barn was better. Slits of light could always make their way in, whether sunlight or moonlight, and as long as you could see the light, then you knew there was something better out there. But in the basement, everything was just black. It was just you and the darkness and you could die down there and no one would probably ever find you.

  Yeah, the barn was definitely better.

  The noose still hung where my father had left it all those years ago. The barn still smelt like my piss when I’d wet myself in fear, thinking that each time would be the time that he would let me die. I put it around her neck and she whimpered. I knew exactly how she was feeling. The powerlessness, the terror of being in the hands of someone you knew was crazy. After pulling it tight, I took my knife and cut through half of the rope. If she fell, then it would break pretty easily. Automatically I kicked at the box on which she balanced. I didn’t mean to, but it was just what he used to always do and it was like my foot had a mind of its own. Again I kicked it for some reason and she gave a muffled scream. The scent of fresh urine filled the room. Her jeans were soaked through and I gave a laugh at the irony. She and I had something in common. Although what was she? Eighteen? I’d been twelve the last time the bastard put the noose around my neck. I wouldn’t have pissed myself at eighteen. By then, I knew to never show fear. I had complete control over my body…normally…hadn’t I just kicked that box not once but twice like my bastard father used to do?

  I left her there. My hands were shaking. I needed a drink, but I stopped myself. I never drank on the job, and that was what this was. I wasn’t weak though. Not like my father or my uncle. I could handle myself. The hours passed and then finally, I went to get her. This wouldn’t take long. She’d learn not to fight.

  I stopped suddenly. I had never learned not to fight. No matter what the bastard had done to me. I had learned to be sneaky and crafty and to get away with more. Was she like that? Was she like me? Any softness that I would have given her in that moment disappeared at the thought.

  It would be for the best. It would be in everyone’s best interests. I’d reduce h
er down to nothing just like he wanted. It was the only way.

  I waited for hours—reading the diary and marking the pages. It was only when dusk fell that I returned to get her. She was cold and wet from her own piss. She was terrified and thinking of death. She’d be grateful now for any kindness that I might give her.

  I dragged her inside. I wasn’t used to dealing with women and it was so simple to just pull her behind me and up the stairs. I threw her into the bathroom and she hit the sink. Her body was weak. I had to remember that. I cut the ties from her and she moaned as she slowly moved her hands. I expected her to attack me, but all she did was rip the duct tape from her mouth before stumbling to the toilet to vomit.

  “That’ll be the drugs I had to give you to keep you down.”

  “Please just let me go. I won’t tell anyone,” she begged.

  “Why would I do that? The fun’s just getting started, Rachel.”

  She twisted her head to look at me, her eyes wide. “My name isn’t Rachel. It’s Paige. I told you I’m Paige." There was a raw panic there, but who wouldn’t be? I’d put her through hell. There was nothing more enlightening than letting someone think that they could be about to die.

  “Really? You think I’m stupid?” I nearly laughed. How long would she keep up with that story for?

  “No, you made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. God, just please let me go.”

  “Get your clothes off,” I ordered flatly. Why the hell was she begging?

  “No.”

  That surprised me, although it shouldn’t have. She was hard.

  I crouched down so I could look her in the eye. “Take your clothes off or you’ll spend all night in the barn with that rope around your neck.”

  She let out a distraught noise and then began to undress. I returned to my spot in the doorway, watching her. What did she think I was? A pervert? Probably, but it didn’t matter what she thought. Soon, all she would care about was what I was thinking and that she would do whatever it took to please me.

  “Are you gonna fuck me again or feed me?” Her quiet voice broke through the memory and suddenly I was conscious of her eyes on me. I let her legs slowly down so she could stand, not letting go until she had her balance again.