by Jaden Wilkes
And I knew what I would have to do, to her.
Still, that red hot part of me that was nestled in the back of my brain felt an electric jolt when I thought about her blood pouring from her body, my cock tracing a trail through it over her perfect, white skin. Blood and semen mixing, a beautiful abstract expression of my lust and consuming need.
“What?” she asked, breaking my train of thought.
“I find you quite charming,” I said, took a bite of toast to prevent myself from saying more, and washed it down with deep, rich coffee.
She smiled at that and nibbled her own toast. She barely ate anything; she needed to eat more. “Hey,” she said.
“Hey what?”
“What’s your name? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”
“No, I never have,” I said mysteriously and smiled as her brows knit together.
“Well, can you tell me?”
“I suppose I could.”
She sighed, took another bite of toast and chewed slowly. She swallowed, contemplated her next words and said, “Please, might you share your name with me?”
I laughed and she grinned. I liked how she was so happy to please me. “My name is Jude,” I told her and waited for her reply.
“Jude,” she said as if rolling it around on her tongue, “Jude. I like it. I really like it.”
“Because of Jude Law?”
“Who?”
“You know, actor type. Women love him.”
“Ohhhh, ok, I think I’ve heard of him. But no, I just like the name. It suits you somehow. Unlike Ronnie, right?”
I couldn’t lie, I didn’t like her name, but that was not going to be an issue after today. “It doesn’t suit you.”
“Why not?”
“It’s crass.”
“Maybe I’m crass,” she said, her lower jaw jutted out defiantly.
“It doesn’t matter anyways,” I told her. I looked her directly in the eye and maintained contact until she looked away.
“Why not?” she finally asked.
“I will call you Pet. That is all you will be known as from today forward.”
She laughed, a mocking bark that brought me back to reality. Gone were the fuzzy edges of my fantasy, she was a real live human girl who needed to be broken in and taught her place in my life. Lucky for her, that place just happened to be at my side. “Pet? Why pet? I’m not a dog.”
“No, but you will live here and I will care for you. I do not like your name, Ronnie or Veronica, so you will answer to Pet.”
“So I don’t have a say in this?”
“Not here, you don’t. You need to trust me in this.”
She was silent. I could tell she wanted to protest, to question why, to demand an answer. She was a good girl though, well broken in already, and understood how this was even if she couldn’t put it to words.
“So what should we do today?” she asked, ending the uncomfortable silence and taking my empty plate. She put hers and mine in the sink and started looking for the dish soap. I couldn’t even assist her; I didn’t know where it was. I usually just loaded the dishwasher and let the housekeeper handle the rest.
She found it and ran hot water, soaked the dishes and started to wash them. I watched her; it was so surreal, having her here doing something as quaint as the washing up. My heart sped up a little at this small glimpse of our life to come.
“You need to attend to your injuries,” I finally said, “and we need to go over some rules.”
She placed the plates and cutlery in the drying rack and turned to me. “Rules?” she asked, “like the house rules?”
I stood and walked to her, took her hand and said, “No, like my rules.”
She looked frightened and intrigued, this side of my personality appealed to her on some level. I supposed after being shit kicked by Billy for so many years, she probably wouldn’t know what to do with a nice guy if he fell on her lap.
We might be perfect for each other after all.
I lead her back to her bedroom and she didn’t resist, in fact she curled her fingers in mine like teenage lovers, walking hand in hand. Her skin was warm and smooth and a little damp from washing the dishes.
We reached her door and I stopped, turned and looked at her. Her throat had fingermark bruises around it and I so desperately wanted to wrap my hands around, to line them up and squeeze. I almost gnashed my teeth but maintained my calm exterior and said, “This is your room. When I am at home, you may ask permission to come out. When I am gone, I will keep it locked and you must stay inside. Do you understand?”
She nodded but asked, “What if you don’t come back?”
“I will always come back, don’t you worry about that. Now as for my privacy, you will never enter any of the side doors you see here in the hallway. You will not enter my bedroom unless ordered or asked, and you will never enter my office.” I gestured to the locked door at the end of the hall containing my most secret of possessions.
She nodded again; her eyes went as wide as they could given their bruised state. “Can I watch TV?”
“I will allow it if you behave. There is one in your room but you mustn’t turn it on until I tell you it’s okay. You must never ask anything twice, if you have to ask twice you will anger me,” I said and paused, looked at her face, scanning it for her reaction. “And Pet?” I said and she nodded in response. I grabbed her arm, not the swollen one, I wasn’t a fucking lowlife after all, and said, “You do not want to see me angry.”
She backed up but found herself against the door; she looked sideways as if searching for a way out. I hated that I had to do this to her, made her tremble in fear, but she needed to know the kind of man I was. She would come to know both sides of me eventually, but for her sake and for the sake of our future together, she needed to understand the danger she was in from day one.
I wanted to settle her down; this kind of anxiety after the terrible attack was probably not good for her health. And I needed her to be healthy so I could slowly immerse her in my world and open her eyes to the singular truth that bound us together…she was mine now, and mine alone.
“I’m doing this to protect you, Pet,” I said and stroked her shoulder, ran my hand down her arm and entwined her fingers in mine once again.
“Ok,” she replied, “and thank you for this, for everything. Can I lie down now? I’m feeling a little woozy.”
“Oh damn, I’m sorry, I keep forgetting you must feel like shit. Come, let’s get you back to bed.”
She was shaky as I helped her settle down. I didn’t know if it was the fear that made adrenaline course through her body or she was genuinely ill.
“Can I get you something for the pain?” I asked and brushed a stray hair off her cheek.
She smiled and says, “Yes, please, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not, I’ll be right back.”
I went to my room, carefully to locked the door behind me, and shuffled through my medicine cabinet. I had prescription pills of all kinds along with a few illegal ones just for shits and giggles.
I selected an Oxycodone, something that would make her feel good and potentially drift off. I fingered the little blue pill and wondered if thirty milligrams was too much for her. Any less and she might not pass out.
I needed her to pass out so I could retreat and plan my next move. I took the pill and found her almost asleep already; her eyelids were growing heavy with exhaustion.
I handed her the pill and a glass of water, helped her sit up and rubbed her back as she swallowed.
I felt so tender towards her; I didn’t know where this came from. I could usually fake it long enough that nobody noticed that I just didn’t care, but this felt authentic.
What had this girl from the wrong side of town, from her shitty job and shittier life, what had she done to me? What had she awakened in me?
And would I be able to contain it?
I moved to stand and she placed her hand on my knee. “Stay,” she said. A s
imple demand in a pleading voice.
I couldn’t say no, I wanted to stay although I knew it could be the wrong decision. I needed more distance from her to collect my thoughts and process the last twenty-four hours.
But I stayed.
“I’ll be here,” I said, “right here.”
“I want you to hold me,” she said and turned her back to me. “Like last night.”
That small gesture ripped my heart in two, cracked it open and tore the hesitation from my hands. I couldn’t say no to that.
I laid down behind her and curled my arms around her. I was large and muscular to her tiny little frame. She felt bony and fragile, but she possessed gentle swells in all the right spots.
We just fit together.
“I used to think about you,” she said and laughs, a tiny little sound in the warm light of the single lamp lighting the room.
“Why?” I asked and wanted to crush her in my arms, tighten them until she could not breathe, she could not say my name. I was almost afraid of her response; it made this all so real.
“It’s silly now, to think about it,” she replied. Her voice was thickening as the Oxy kicked in. She must have been floating by then, sleepy but not quite ready to sleep. I should have known this; I shouldn’t have been so careless. Being here with her was dangerous, her vulnerability brought the red heat back, it was throbbing against my head in dull waves.
“You can tell me,” I said with the voice of a wolf coaxing his prey. I needed to get away from her, but I couldn’t.
“Ok, but don’t laugh, promise?”
“I promise.”
She twisted in my arms and was facing me. My heart stopped dead for a beat and the throbbing rush in my head grew redder and hotter.
“I used to imagine you coming to rescue me, to take me away from everything that was terrible about my life. I used to fantasize that you would notice me and save me. I knew you never would,” she told me in a rushed, breathy voice that made my cock ache with need. “I mean, you’re so fucking hot and rich and I’m nothing.”
“You beautiful, silly girl,” I said and somehow against the odds managed to keep my voice light, “you don’t know how damned attractive you are, do you?”
She looked up at me, her eyes widened with surprise this time, not knowing how to respond to that.
I kissed her, I didn’t mean to but I did. I kissed her and my heart fluttered in my chest and I could taste a sweetness on her breath that I’d never tasted before. Her essence, her purity in spite of the circumstances through which she came into the world, her beauty in every cell of her body.
She leaned into me, wrapped her thin arms around me and made me feel like the most powerful man in the world.
What had this fragile little thing done to me?
She was starting to drift off; the pill was kicking in at last.
My cock pressed against her hip and she exhaled a soft noise of acceptance.
I could have fucked her then, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk it.
I remained there for a few moments until her breathing was steady and I knew she’s deep in sleep.
I had to kill again. I’d never done it this quickly in succession before, but I had to. If I didn’t I would destroy her and I didn’t know if I could’ve forgiven myself.
She was my one chance to become human, to be normal and fulfill the destiny my parents chose for me before I was born.
I extricated myself from her arms and rolled off the bed slowly. I pulled the blanket over her and tucked her in with the care I imagined a parent had for a child.
I left, locked the door and made it to my truck before making a sound. Once inside, I punched the steering wheel repeatedly and yelled, “Fuck” over again until I had some modicum of relief from the need surging through my body.
I cruised slowly, carefully, looking for the perfect match. A small and beautiful woman who would willingly offer her life in exchange for Pet’s.
I found just the one in Vancouver, in the shittier end of town. She was at a bus stop, as if there was a bus that time of the night.
I pulled up alongside of her and she stood up with a smile. She was blonde and lithe and had bigger breasts than Pet, but she was very beautiful.
“You need a ride?” I asked as she approached.
“Sure thing, you got cash?”
“I do, get in.”
“You got a place we can go?”
“I do, it’s just over the bridge.”
“Back in Portland?”
“Yeah.”
“That’ll cost you more, you ok with that?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
She got in and put her seatbelt on. Safety first.
Closer up I saw she was older than I’d first thought, but still retained most of her original looks. She had just started to fade, but hadn’t quite spoiled.
We drove and she chattered the entire way about her favourite television shows. I didn’t understand how most of these women I picked up lived their entire lives through a few vapid two-dimensional characters on so called reality TV.
Near the storage unit I gave the same excuse about needing to drop something off and took her inside with me. I still had the tarp from yesterday in the cab of the truck, so it seemed legitimate.
By the time she noticed the pile of bloodied women’s clothing tucked in the corner of the locker and the knife in my hand, it was too late.
I was more controlled this time, determined to really take my time, enjoy it so I could satiate the red waves of heat for a couple of weeks at least.
I didn’t kiss or bite her though, after kissing Pet and feeling her essence on my tongue, I didn’t want to sully it with the taste of another.
I lead her to believe we were going to fuck, good old dirty-dog paid-for sex. While she was writhing under my gripping hand, I stabbed her throat. A quick sharp thrust with my larger hunting knife. It was fast this time, and I didn’t end up as covered in her arterial spray.
I carefully sliced her breast with the knife, and left precision marks instead of jagged tears.
I drove the body to the same spot in the mountains when I was done with her. I left her laid out carefully just a few yards from Coral.
I never did get this one’s name, with Pet in my life, details like that were feeling less and less meaningful.
Driving back to my house I was pleased that my head didn’t throb, my heart felt light and I was almost vibrating in anticipation of seeing her again.
I almost felt sane.
Almost normal.
Chapter Ten
Agent Donovan Blake
Portland, Oregon
“I’ll have a coffee, please. Black and hot.” I didn’t bother to glance at the frumpy waitress in the small diner where I was having lunch with Agent Chase. Barking out my order, I couldn’t have cared less if I appeared rude. I was on the hunt for a killer and I liked to stay focused on my case rather than concerning myself with everyday pleasantries.
“I’ll also have coffee, thank you. However, I prefer two sugars and a splash of creamer.” She held up a finger to stall the waitress at our table. “Donovan, you should eat something.”
When I didn’t respond Agent Chase groaned before turning back to the waitress. “Please bring us some toast, whole wheat with butter and an assortment of jellies, and some eggs with a side of bacon and sausage. Thank you.”
The waitress left our table without hesitation and I could feel Emily’s eyes burning into me. Looking up, I didn’t speak; allowing her time to say whatever was on her mind.
“Do you always have to be so rude?”
Glancing back at the papers I was reviewing, I attempted a smile, which I suspect appeared more as a grimace. “I’m not rude, Agent Chase. I’m focused. You of all people should understand the difference.”
“You can refer to me by my first name. We’re not in a professional setting.”
“I don’t like using first names. It’s too personal.�
�
She reached across the table to pat my hand where it rested atop one of the many case files associated with CK. “You had no problem using my first name last night.”
This time I actually managed a smile. “I doubt the term ‘dirty little slut’ counts as use of your first name.”
Her jaw dropped only for a second before she reverted back to her usual pleasant expression. “No. I guess it doesn’t.”
Changing the subject, I voiced my thoughts on the case. “The most recent kills are concerning me. Normally, CK goes through a cooling down period between kills. At least spacing them out a week apart from one another. From what we can tell by the state of decomp of his most recent victims’ bodies, he waited a day or two at most between the first and second.” Sitting back against the cheap pleather booth seat, I caught Emily’s eyes. “Why would he escalate?”
Immediately back to business as usual, she suggested, “Perhaps there’s been a trigger. Something that’s happened to him to push him into a manic state. You know how it is with these types, outside influences can lead them into making mistakes or breaking their pattern.”
Considering her words, I finally shook my head in disagreement. “No. He hasn’t wavered from his normal habits. The right nipple of both victims had been removed, one with teeth and the other with a blade. Both were positioned as if sleeping. Their hair was brushed and nothing appeared out of the ordinary. As usual, he was methodical in these kills. Nothing, and I mean, NOTHING, was left behind. Those are not the signs of a manic state.”
Tossing the photographs on the table, I didn’t care that some poor soul might walk by and see them. The horror would only serve to teach that person to mind his or her own business.
“Prostitutes. Both were prostitutes and wouldn’t have been missed. We lucked out that a hiker found them as quickly as he did.”
Glancing at the crime scene maps I did finally recognize one other break in CK’s pattern.
Tossing the map to Agent Chase, I wanted to find out if she saw it as well. “Notice anything unusual?”
