by Jade Eby
Her pussy had been heaven, and he would’ve been happy to die right there between those moist lips.
He rubbed his face with both of his hands and sighed. “Focus, Asher.”
He pressed the fast forward button to where he’d left Diana by herself. “This is stupid. I should be upstairs in the shower with her, but here I am, being. . .me.”
On the screen, a devilish grin spread across Diana’s face as she got up from the bed and walked toward her closet.
He quirked an eyebrow. “What was on your mind, Diana?”
She stepped in and scanned the area.
You’re such a curious cat. I’m not liking where this is going, Diana.
The closet’s light turned on and bathed her in light. All he could see was her back as she continued to enter, moving her head from side to side as she probably took in the massive space.
Dread hit Asher’s gut. No one ever went in his closet. Not even his staff.
It was another odd thing about him.
I forgot to tell her not to go in my closet.
All his life, the closet had been a safe haven. When his father beat his mother to a pulp, he would run in there, keeping all of his secret items in the little space, for when he would need to run away and get help. That was the crazy things that went through his little, innocent mind, as terror rained down around him.
Young Asher had kept a plastic Indian bow and arrow in his closet, just for the occasion to hurt his father.
He’d even used it one night.
At dinner, his father snatched his mother up by her neck and slung the weak woman into the table. Everything crashed around them—dinner fell to the floor. Plates smashed into bits and pieces. Peas and mashed potatoes got all over Asher’s sneakers.
“No!” With his tiny feet, he’d ran to his closet, grabbed the brown and green bow, picked up the orange arrows, rushed back to his dad, pulled the bow back, and let go.
The arrow shot through the air, barely poked at his father’s back, and then dropped to the floor.
“Ash Tray, was that you?” His father stopped punching his mother in the face and turned to him. “Ash Tray? Get your ass out of here, before I come for you.”
Running away, Asher dropped the bow and arrow, ignored the closet, and got back to his other hiding spot under his bed.
Back in reality, Asher pushed that old memory away and watched Diana on the screen as she walked all the way to the back of the closet, flipped back the mirror, and reached her hands inside his secret compartment.
Great job. I go through all the trouble for so many years to be careful, and not get caught, and here I let a prized investigating reporter stumble into my closet right where all of my secrets are.
Asher couldn’t see what she was touching, but he knew. He’d been in that closet day after day, gazing at his bow and arrow. He no longer was forced to deal with the plastic toys of his youth. Now he had a real one—high definition and worth more money than an average American’s car.
From now on, when he pulled his bow back, his target was hit, and there would be no more hurt by any bad man.
“Diana. Diana,” Asher whispered as he stared at the screen.
Even in the recording, he could see the fear in her eyes as she rushed out of there. He checked the night stand where her phone still sat.
Good. She’s just focusing on getting herself out of here. I don’t think she ever grabbed her phone. It definitely wasn’t in her hand when she went to the shower.
He put his hand into his pocket, took out his phone, and dialed security.
One of his guards answered, “Hello, Mr. Bishop.”
“How are you doing, Dwight?” Asher asked.
“Very good, sir.”
“I’m having a bit of an uncomfortable situation. Nothing that we really need to worry about in reference to the security of this property, but my guest, Mrs. Carson, however, has taken something that has sort of. . .how do I say this without being inappropriate? Hmm. This substance has altered her mind.”
“Okay. I understand.”
“So I don’t know if you are used to dealing with people who take . . . mind-altering substances, but it can be a bit crazy.”
Dwight chuckled. “In this line of security work, especially on Ovid Island, I’ve dealt with a lot of situations where people have used these substances.”
“Good.” Asher smiled. “Mrs. Diane Carson has taken something. I’m trying to keep her calm. She’s going to take a shower and eat, but there might be a point where the paranoia continues. She may even want to leave the property and try driving a car. We can’t have that.”
“No, sir.”
“I care about this woman. You know there’s been no other woman besides my mother that’s been able to walk these hallways overnight.”
“Yes, sir. The staff have been talking about it all week.”
That made Asher uneasy, but he decided to deal with that later. There were too many other things going on.
Deal with it all, one by one. There’s only a threat, if I don’t handle it. I can handle Diana. I just need time.
“Good,” Asher said. “I’m glad I’ll have help with keeping Mrs. Carson on the property until she comes down from this crazy trip she’s having.”
“No problem, sir. You have a good evening.”
“You too.” Asher hung up the phone and left the security room.
Eighteen
Cupid
An hour later, footsteps sounded on the stairs. On the first level of his mansion, Asher stood in the shadows, in an area close to the bottom of the steps.
The whole time, he held onto the rose, he’d wanted to give to Diana.
There you go. Now it’s time to escape from the bad man.
He’d been waiting for her to run, and figured the front or back door would be her only rational solution. The windows were hard to climb out of. He’d done it a few times, constantly scraping himself and pulling a muscle.
For Diana, climbing down three flights on his mansion, would be suicide.
I’m guessing Diana no longer is interested in taking a shower. You figured now was a good time to run away?
In front of him, Diana walked down the steps. She glanced behind her, every few feet, probably assuming that Asher still lay in his bedroom.
What’s going through your mind? Are you scared?
He relished in the hallway’s darkness, leaned back, and let the shade blanket him.
Do you know I’m Cupid? Or are there doubts? Do you think I’m capable of murder, My Love?
Diana arrived at the first floor, hugged herself, and headed toward his direction. He’d guessed right. Diana hadn’t remembered the back exits, when he’d done his tour of the house.
Now. How do I talk to her, without scaring her.
Diana’s heavy breathing sounded out as she sped-walked toward him, not having any idea he was there.
Poor Diana.
Hope glittered in her eyes. Could she see the door in her mind? Did she imagine herself placing her hands on the knob, turning it, and running away from him?
No. Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love. The girl too. And then they have a small spat, nothing more. But. . .girl does not flee from the boy in fear. Not his girl.
“Okay, Diana,” she whispered to herself.
She was only five feet away, and would past him in seconds. She’d only need several more feet to hit the door. Although, unbeknownst to her, none of that mattered. His security would keep her here.
Tonight, Diana was trapped.
Tomorrow, he’d think of another way, to keep her in his cage.
Love truly is difficult.
“Y-you’ve got it.” Diana picked up her pace and formed her fingers into fists. “Almost there.”
“Almost where?” Asher flipped the hallway’s switch. A bright lamp lit up the hallway.
Gasping, Diana stared at him and didn’t move.
Smart. It’s best to say nothing. Focus on the escape
. Don’t show too much fear. Trick me. Make me believe you’re still here for me.
She relaxed her arms as best as she could and held her hands, twisting each finger a little. “Asher? Did you forget something?”
“No.” He turned the rose around. Those petals glowed in the light as they spiraled down over and over around the thorny stem. “Where were you going, Diana?”
“I went to the bedroom, but you weren’t in there.”
Good save, Diana. This is why I like you. You’re so smart.
“Sorry, I left. I was wondering about something.” He raised the rose in the light. “I just had to check it out, and now I know.”
“Know what?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Then you don’t know.”
“Maybe, you’re right.” He turned the rose around again. “Maybe, I don’t know.”
A few silent seconds passed. The whole time Asher studied the flower.
Diana wiped the sweat off of her forehead and gave him a weak smile. “That is such a captivating rose.”
“It is.” He gazed at Diana and with his hands, pulled away one petal. “She loves me?”
The crimson petal floated down to the floor. It reminded him of the first drop of blood in a kill. That was always his favorite part, anytime his arrow hit a target.
That first drop of blood was like a flame to a cigarette or the addict’s act of lighting a spoon and sucking up the bubbling liquid with a rusty needle.
The first drop of blood triggered the beginning of the fun, the start of all the madness.
Asher gazed at the petal as it lay on the floor between Diana and him.
In some ways, this petal is like the first drop of blood for our relationship. But let’s see, if I’ll have to shed more blood in the days to come. What will I do with you, Sweet Diana?
“She loves me not?” He snapped another petal off and flung it in the air.
Diana backed up. “Is. . .is everything okay?”
He formed his lips to a grim line. “Do you know where that came from?”
“Where what came from?” She made a fist with one hand and put it behind her.
“That whole little phrase.” He picked a petal. “She loves me?”
He snatched another and flung it in the air. “She loves me not?”
“Do I know where, she loves me, she loves me not came from?”
“Yeah.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“It was a French game. A curious boy would pick a petal off a flower for each phrase.” Asher stalked toward her in a slow motion, almost like a wolf would creep toward an innocent doe as it lapped at a stream. “The object of his affection represented the flower. The phrase is repeated until all of the petals are discarded.
“I’ve played the game.” She tensed as he stopped right in front of her.
“The final petal is plucked and represents the true statement of whether the object of his affection really loves him or not.”
“Do you believe that?” he asked with barely a foot of distance between them.
Her bottom lip quivered. “What?”
“Do you believe that the flower could predict the truth of a man’s love?”
“No. Why would I?”
Step by step, he circled her. It was wrong of him. He knew how scared she was, but he couldn’t help it. The terror radiating from her skin made him even more hungrier for her.
It was wrong, but his dick grew hard in his pants as she tensed her shoulders up.
He walked around her again, that time, talking to her with each step. “Flowers are believed to have this symbolic tie to humanity. Roses have always been connected with love. They’ve been known to phrophesize great things.”
“What do you think this rose would say about us?” He got right in front of her, his bare chest touching her shaking one.
But something odd happened with their closeness.
She didn’t step back, and her shivering decreased to almost nothing.
Within the quiet, she breathed in and out, then stared up at him. “I don’t know what that rose would say about us.”
“No?” He inhaled the lushness of her fragrance.
Was he angry that she found the bow and arrow? No. Scared a little. Determined to keep her around. Maybe even a bit tinkering off into the dark side of how much he’d planned to keep her near him.
But he wasn’t angry.
He wouldn’t hurt her.
Keep her?
Yes.
Somehow.
But he wouldn’t hurt her,
Or he would do his best.
Did she realize that same truth in that moment? Or was she simply trying to calm herself down?
She lifted her chin and gazed at him. “I don’t think our love would be represented by a regular rose.”
“No?”
She turned around and headed back up the stairs. “No. Our love started with blood. Wouldn’t you say?”
What’s your plan now, Diana? And how do I stop you? How do I show you that I’m not as bad?
He didn’t move. She headed upstairs.
For now, there would be no need to worry about her leaving the house.
“Blood?” he asked.
“Yes.” She paused on the stairs and stared down at him. “Our love. . .or really. . .whatever we have. It started with blood.”
“Neil’s blood?”
She flinched. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry. I always forget that you’re mourning.”
“I am, and I’m not.” She went up another stair and stopped.
“Maybe, that’s a good thing.”
“Maybe.”
“But I’m wondering something.” She targeted him with her gaze. “Why do you think Cupid picked Neil?”
Asher grinned. “How would I know?”
“I’m just wondering what your opinion is.”
“I only know the few things that I heard about Neil. I’m not sure what Cupid found out, but I’m sure Cupid probably figured that Neil didn’t deserve you, that this beast of a man was sticking his dick in every female on the island, and not even using any protection. Cupid probably guessed that no woman had earned the right to receive a lifetime of sexually transmitted diseases or even worse, AIDS from her own husband. A man that was supposed to protect and love his woman.”
She gripped the rail on the staircase as if she was about to lose the strength in her legs. “Do you think Cupid knew that I was Neil’s wife? Do you think Cupid saw me before he killed Neil?”
Asher let his gaze travel down to the curve of her hips that pressed against her jeans, and then he drank in those supple breasts that were tucked under her shirt. She’d dressed fast, but not fast enough.
He licked his lips. “No. I’m sure Cupid had never seen you. If he had, he might not have ever remembered to kill Neil or his mistress.”
She widened her eyes, but terror didn’t linger in them. Asher couldn’t confirm that it was lust, but it was better than the terror.
She touched her chest. “You want me to stay here, because you think Cupid wants to kill me?”
“No.” He tucked the rose behind one ear. “I want you to stay here, because I can’t think of any other woman or person I want to have next to me every night.”
“Tonight was only a one-time thing.”
“I believe you’re mistaken.”
“What do you think Cupid would believe?” she asked.
Careful, Diana. You’re not ready to meet the monster yet. Maybe, you should only focus on Asher for tonight.
“Cupid doesn’t deal with love,” he said.
“No?” Diana asked. “Then what do you think Cupid deals with?”
“Death. Just death.”
“Are you sure?”
“As much as I could be, Diana.”
“That's a shame," she said as she continued up the stairs. "I'm tired. I should go to sleep. . .in my own room. I’m so sorry, but I’m ou
t of it. Besides, I have more interviews with Cupid's victims' tomorrow morning. Remember?” She kept her back to me. “And then there’s possibly a new victim.”
“Yes.” Asher thought back then to the bloody scene and message to Diana that he’d left behind.
“Fuck.” He cringed.
“Did you say anything?” Diana called back from the top of the stairs.
“No. Goodnight.”
The bloody message to Diana flashed in his head. Earlier, he’d put wrote the blood on the wall to scare her into staying at the house longer. Cupid was supposed to be some crazy guy that could be stalking her. It was just supposed to be this quick fix to buy him some more days.
But now Diana knew that he was Cupid.
How could she not?
A bow and arrow lay in his closet. And he, himself, had shown a huge interest into the Cupid murders, even funding her with a lot of money to investigate it.
How stupid had he been to think he could keep his identity a secret from Diana?
Tomorrow, she would either go to the scene herself or be told by the police. They’d have to connect her as the Diana in the message. It would make sense to at least check with the fifth’s victim’s widow who happened to also be named Diana.
He didn’t worry about Diana telling the cops about him. What proof would she have? The bow and arrow would be gone from the closet, as well as anything else on his property.
Asher also had a strong alibi for Neil’s murder, over two hundred partying guests would confirm that he was there. He even had an alibi for this recent murder. He always maintained footage of him sitting in the office at different parts of a given day. It would take no time to slip a pre-recorded disk out and have the security hand that to the police.
The cops would see him in his office all evening just like he said he’d been.
If anything, they would think Diana was crazy, and getting that label on small, yet wealthy Ovid Island, would further cage her to him.
She’ll have nowhere to escape, not until I’m done.
He returned to the bloody message he’d left her earlier.
“Damn it.” He ran his fingers through his blonde curls.
