Grace Street (A Chapter 8 Novel, #1) (23 page)

“I don’t think it was immature. I think it
was a little rash, but you’ve always had a mind of your own. And
what do I know? Maybe it was a good idea to get away from that
son-of-a-bitch Patrick.”

Elsa smiled and wiped her tears away.

“I love you, El, and so does your brother.
Even though I know he can be a real prick to you sometimes.”

She really did love her mom and her way with
words. “Nick the Prick. I like that. I’ll have to call him that the
next time I see him,” she laughed.

“Is there anything else wrong?” her mom
probed.

How the hell did she do that? Her mom always
had a sixth sense about her. She could never get away with anything
when she was a teenager because of it.

Elsa hated to lie to her, but had no choice.
The truth was just too ugly and bizarre.

“Nothing else is wrong.”

“I’ll be there on Tuesday,” her mother said
with finality.

*

Three hours later, Elsa’s impatience was
getting the best of her as she waited to be discharged from the ER.
She flipped through the channels on the television in the room,
wishing she was doing some reading instead, but the Chronicles of
Mr. Black were at her office. It was probably better that way. With
the drugs she was on, she might be prone to vivid nightmares if she
read any more.

Just as she closed her eyes for a quick nap,
she felt hot hands on her face, pushing her hair back. The
medication had fully kicked in, making her drowsy, but she pried
her eyes open to see Victor standing next to her bed. Too stunned
at seeing him, she lay motionless without saying anything.

“I’m glad to see you know how to follow
directions,” he said in a low voice, soft and clear.

He leaned down close to her, looking down at
her intensely as he lifted the sheet covering her legs to inspect
the damage.

Elsa stared into his dark and compelling
eyes, wondering why he had come back to town when there were far
more important things than her that needed his attention. Her heart
swelled at the romantic idea that he cared enough to show up until
his typed words flashed in front of her sleepy eyes.

“Does it hurt?” his voice dropped in volume
as he touched her thigh.

She pressed her lips together in anger. “Do
you want it to hurt?”

Victor’s mouth twisted wryly and he quirked
an eyebrow at her questioningly. “Why would you ask that?”

Anxiety knotted in her stomach. “Because you
told me you like to cause pain.”

The line of his mouth tightened a fraction
more and his eyes darkened dangerously. “I never told you
that.”

She blinked long and hard and focused her
fuzzy, medicated gaze. She had given away too much. “I’m pretty
sure you did,” she held her ground firmly.

As he chewed the corner of his lip, he
studied her face slowly as if waiting for her to break. “What I
said was I like your tears.”

Little by little, she let out her breath.
“Same difference. Pain equals tears.”

“It’s not the same, but I’m not here to argue
with you, most especially not when you’re heavily medicated.”

“I’m not heavily medicated. I can still think
straight,” she tried to sit up defensively.

Victor rolled his eyes and pushed her back
down. “You’re medicated enough that the physician told me you can’t
drive yourself home.”

Elsa sighed loudly. “Aren’t there rules about
divulging personal medical information to people who aren’t my
family?”

A slow blush crept over Victor’s face. It was
such a strange thing to see, even in her semi-medicated state, she
was taken aback.

“I told him I was your boyfriend. Anyway, he
knows me…” he added with a dismissive wave of his hand as he turned
and walked to the door to look out.

She sat back up and swung her legs off the
edge of the bed as she tried to stand. “You’ve really got this
whole lying thing down to an art, don’t you?”

Victor spun on his heel and gripped her upper
arm to steady her. “Who says it’s a lie?” he glared down at
her.

Elsa huffed. “I know what you are and what
you’re not.”

For a long moment, he looked back at her.
“And what is that?”

“You’re sure as hell not my boyfriend.”

If only she could say what she was really
thinking.
He’s cruel and sadistic. He’s a horrible man for using
all those women as some kind of experiment and pretending he was
doing them a favor when he was simply getting off on it. He’s an
awful person for using her in the same way.

Victor’s glance sharpened and his fingers
tightened around her arm. “Just get dressed.”

On the drive back to her apartment, Elsa
watched Victor closely. She was beginning to feel guilty for what
she had said. He had shown up and though the reason wasn’t exactly
clear to her, she was appreciative.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” she
whispered as she rested her hand on his thigh.

He kept his gaze forward and simply
nodded.

“Victor?” His eyes darted to the side, but he
refused to look at her directly. “I missed you this week.”

Suddenly he veered off the road and onto the
shoulder, slamming on the breaks and making her seatbelt lock up.
All at once, his mouth was on her and his hands fisted in her hair.
His tongue danced around inside her mouth and she sucked at it like
a woman who had been deprived the indulgence of a man’s mouth for
far too long. The turbulence of his passion swirled around her and
his kiss drained of her the anger she had been feeling earlier. His
fierce kiss turned gentle and his fingers glided down her cheek to
her chin where he held her firmly in place. Hypnotized by his
touch, she tingled under his fingertips.

When he pulled back to stare down at her, she
forgot the man he was in the journal.

“Though I do enjoy your tears, I don’t ever
want to see you hurt. Not like you were today. Your physical pain
is not something that gets me off.”

This man was a conundrum. He had written that
he was a sadist and had accepted it. She searched his eyes for some
sign of truth in his statement.

“Just my emotional pain?” she asked.

With his large shoulders heaving as he
breathed, his brows drew together and he shook his head, but left
his answer unspoken. It was fine because no words were necessary.
His expression was easily readable for a change. He didn’t want to
cause that kind of pain either. Not intentionally.

Her gaze clouded with tears, but she held
them at bay as the eye-opening truth hit her. Victor wasn’t a
sadist in the traditional sense. Even though he may have been
turned on by the pain that he caused, he was simply a man who
craved power in its most primal form – domination. Exerting his
power over another person was what turned him on. He wasn’t forcing
himself on unwilling people: he was seeking consensual partners,
like herself; people who craved the same things he did. Didn’t this
intelligent man realize that? But how could he kid himself into
believing that he was helping those women? Perhaps he needed to
convince himself of that in order to justify his actions. Then
again, maybe she was the one kidding herself.

Elsa leaned forward and kissed him. God, she
hoped she could help him see things her way.

***

Victor hadn’t anticipated the sudden
departure from Cambridge, but he was glad for it. The day had been
a shitty one. As he drove Elsa back to her apartment to gather
clothes for the weekend, he tried his best not to recall the
horrible events of the day, but it was pointless. The ugliness kept
seeping into his subconscious.

He had been accosted by one of the parents of
Victim #2, the pretty blonde, philosophy major. The father was
lashing out at anyone who would listen and Victor just happened to
be the man who caught the brunt of his attack. The accusation that
he wasn’t working hard enough and that he didn’t care about what
had happened stung. He did care. He was trying hard.

He glanced at Elsa who had dozed off and
guilt swept over him. He should be in Cambridge not with her. But
Elsa needed him, too. She had no one else to rely on. Wasn’t he
allowed to have a life outside of work? He wasn’t asking for much,
just a few days a week to spend engaging in his favorite pastime –
his Chapters.

Parked in front of her apartment, he allowed
her to nap while he let himself in to pack a bag for her. He hadn’t
gotten to listen in on her activities during the week and as he
grabbed her toothbrush, he wondered what she what it was she kept
herself busy with. He ran his thumb over the bristles and looked at
himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked tired and a helluva lot
older than thirty-six.

He opened his mouth and peeked inside. His
gums were cut and sore from the grieving father’s fist, but there
was no outward sign of his assault. The man was lucky no charges
were pressed against him, but Victor had insisted he simply be let
go. There was no point in making a man who was already suffering,
pay for his anger – not when his anger was valid.

Climbing back into the Nissan, he lifted
Elsa’s skirt to inspect the dressing on her wound. It already
needed to be changed.

Finally at the Grace Street
brownstone, he parked in the driveway. Carrying Elsa inside, he
laid her out on the chaise.
It was still early evening and
he called in an order for Italian food to be delivered in two
hours’ time. In the meantime he would view the video from the
previous weekend. He walked up the stairs and reached for the key
around his neck when he remembered he hadn’t brought it along. He
sighed irritably at himself and decided instead to bring in his
luggage from the Nissan, and shower and freshen up from his
trip.

Having fallen asleep in only his briefs after
his shower, he woke to Elsa’s voice.

“Victor, our food is here.”

He opened his eyes to a freshly bathed
red-head hovering above him looking and smelling absolutely edible.
“I had a shitty week,” he grumbled as he let out a long breath. He
reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear as he stared into her
eyes, mentally petitioning her for solace.

“I’m sorry,” she leaned down and kissed the
corner of his mouth, offering him comfort the only way she
could.

“What are you sorry for?”

“That I wasn’t there to make it better and…
for the other thing,” she blushed.

He had already forgiven her but he still
liked that she was worried about his reaction. Her fear was a
potent thing. He attempted to smile but winced when the sharp pain
in his mouth reminded him just how horrible his day had really
been.

“Well you’re here now,” he tugged her closer.
“So make it better.”

“Our food is going to get cold,” she circled
a finger around his hairy navel.

“Fuck the food. I just want to forget about
the week I had.”

Elsa’s eyes lit up the room. “It would be my
pleasure to help you with that.”

She carefully crawled between his legs trying
to avoid contact on her wounds. As she sat back on her haunches and
rubbed her palm over his quickly growing dick, Victor was touched
that despite her obvious pain, she was still willing to please him.
This woman really was something else.

He suddenly felt drugged by her clean,
womanly scent. He just wanted every wretched image and memory from
the week to go away and for there to be nothing but thoughts of
Elsa and her mouth around him. He clasped his hands behind his head
and closed his eyes while she pulled his briefs off and worked her
magic on his cock. He felt the warmth of her mouth around him, the
slickness of her saliva and the tightness of her throa,t and the
world around him melted into obscurity. Yes, this is exactly what
he needed…
She
is exactly what he needed.

Seated at the
table, Victor and Elsa ate their reheated dinner in near silence.
She wanted desperately to know the details of his week, but knew
she couldn’t ask any questions without giving anything away. As she
chewed on the veal parmesan, she tried to formulate a way to ask
about his job indirectly.

“I talked to my mom.”

Victor’s instantly perked up. “Oh? About
what?”

“About my accident and about what’s going on
back home in Mass.”

He chewed his food but remained silent,
waiting for more information.

“She said they found another body up by
Cambridge. It’s horrible. The whole community is pretty torn up
about it.”

His brows went up and he nodded, but never
let on that he suspected anything. “I can imagine. Have you kept up
with the case at all?”

She mentally patted herself on the back. She
was turning out to be a pretty good player in his game. “Not since
I’ve moved here. I don’t watch television or news except on rare
occasions, but you already know that about me, right?” she
kidded.

He nodded again and lifted one side of his
mouth ironically. “I do know that.” He put his fork down and wiped
his mouth. Leaning his chair back on two legs he gave her a pensive
look. “What do you think about all that?”

Elsa froze. She was thrilled that they were
actually having a normal conversation, but she hadn’t expected
Victor to question her and she had to think a moment before
responding. “I’m not sure what to think. It’s a tragedy for sure.
The world can be a brutal place and sometimes there’s just no
making sense out of the things that happen in it. But...” she
hesitated to keep going on. She scanned the tabletop, suddenly
feeling the weight of guilt upon her. She really hated lying to
Victor and she detested that she had to pretend not to know about
him.

His expression was grim as he watched her.
“What, Elsa? But
what
?”

“I just wish that…” the words were right
there on the tip of her tongue and again she was assaulted with her
sick yearning to confess herself to him. She just wished that they
could be normal together. “I just wish that all the atrocities of
the world could be righted. I know that’s a naïve statement, but
still. I just wish there was more light in the world and not so
much darkness.”