His (11 page)

Traitor body, to respond to his kiss that way. The same way as it had responded the first time I had pressed my lips to him. The burn in my body was no longer just pain, but an aching lust. As he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the outline of my lips, I arched back against the wall, trying desperately to convince myself that I didn’t want any part of this.

I didn’t, of course. I couldn’t help the sharp ache that began to press against me from the inside as he pressed against me from the outside. His hands held my arms back at the wrists, and I was only grateful that he didn’t slide them up my bra to where the razor was hiding.

The razor. I couldn’t let him know.

He broke away from the kiss, his eyes burning with an emotion I hadn’t seen in him before. It lasted only a split second before the curtain fell again and his eyes turned on me flatly, expressionless. His arms hung limply at his sides.

“You wasted a trade, kitten,” he said. “Wasted food, too.”

I gulped. A tear had found its way to the corner of my eye and began its slow journey down my cheek. I wiped it away. I did not want him to see me cry.

The anxiety was gone, replaced by hatred and rage. At least I could do that. I might have been able to attack him with the razor, but it was better to wait until he uncuffed me. I would have a better chance, then.

“I had hoped that we would have a better day today, kitten,” he said. “Yesterday was so promising.”

He waited for me to say something, but there was nothing else to say. He gathered the upturned bowl and the spoon from the floor, and went to leave without uncuffing me.

“It’s your birthday,” he said, and I was surprised that there was no hint of anger in his voice. “I’ll be back later with your present. It would be better for you if you obeyed me then.”

     Gav    

Of course, her birthday. She would respond better once she saw that I was going to treat her well on her birthday. I should have started with that, maybe. Now I had to find a present that would suit her.

I dug through my closet upstairs. There had been something I’d found a while back, a box of jewelry from my mother. I’d stolen it and hidden it away after she’d died. My fingers touched something hard in the back of the shelf, and I pulled out the rosewood box. It gleamed a dark red where I brushed the dust off of it.

Opening the box, I took out the necklace. A silver necklace, two hearts intertwined. I remember my mother wearing it, the silver chain sparkling around her throat. Her throat…

Her throat was cut. My father held the knife. Blood, blood everywhere.

The box clattered to the ground, spilling the other jewelry across the floor. The shadow swirled up, the darkness invading the bedroom.
No.
I did not want the shadow here. Not again. It was too soon.

The silver chain in my hands dug into my skin, but I clutched it all the tighter. I closed my eyes but I could still feel the shadow there, waiting patiently at the periphery of my eyes. Waiting for me to find it again. In my hand, the thin metal hearts seemed to beat.
Mother. Mother. My mother…

I howled, and the sound echoed through the empty, empty house.

     Kat    

The razor had cut through the bottom of my bra, and I was adjusting it so that it wouldn’t poke out when the light on the stairs came on. Hastily shoving it back underneath the padding, I leaned back against the wall, my arm twisted up and hanging limply from the pipe.

Gav pushed open the door slowly. Still topless. He hadn’t put another shirt on. I didn’t know whether or not he was trying to show off his muscled chest, or if he actually didn’t care. From what I knew about him, I’d have to guess the latter.

Now, he was holding something in his hands. A present, he’d said. He came to me and held it out. It was a necklace. A silver chain, dangling from his fingers. The heart charms hanging off the end gleamed brightly in the thin light.

“Here,” he said. “Your present.”

“You didn’t wrap it,” I said. I wasn’t going to play this particular game, not after he had chained me back up to the pipe.

He paused, and as his face turned halfway to the light I could see that his eyes were rimmed red under his dark lashes. Had he been crying?

“Do you want me to wrap it?” he asked. His voice was small, confused. In his fingers, the necklace turned, the hearts spinning at the end of the chain.

“I don’t want it,” I said. I tried to sound confident, but for some reason I couldn’t make my voice raise any higher.

“Why not?”

“Because I want to leave.”

“You can’t leave. You can have this, though. It’s a gift.” He sounded pleading.

“I don’t want any gifts from you. I hate you.”

I pushed his hand away, and the necklace swung like a pendulum. Before I could say anything else, he’d taken my hand and twisted it down and behind my back. I could feel the chain cutting into my skin between our hands, even through the bandages that covered my cuts. In my bra, the razor turned and pushed against the fabric. I hoped that it wouldn’t cut through to my skin.

He kissed me hard, and as he kissed me he pressed into me. I could feel his erection growing through the fabric of his pants, pressing against my thigh. His obvious attraction sent a shudder of uncalled desire through my body. His bare chest was hard, his muscles rippling under the pressure between our bodies.

Hot, it was so hot. I struggled to breathe and he tilted his head, letting my lips go and pinning me back so that his forehead was against mine and our faces were only inches apart.

“You’re attracted to me,” he said.

“I still hate you.”

“Why do you hate me?” he asked. His skin was smooth against mine, and his breath was fresh, like spearmint. I hated to even think about how bad my breath smelled, but he nuzzled against me as though it was no problem at all. I struggled to get away from him but he held me fast.

“You’re a monster,” I said.

He paused before speaking.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? You kill people!”

“Kitten, these men are not good men that I kill. They are wifebeaters. They are child abusers. They pay off judges and slip through the cracks. They’re the real monsters. Sometimes I go to their funerals and watch their family weep… with relief.”

“How can you tell?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I believed him. Isn’t that what any serial killer would say? Don’t they always blame their victims? But maybe if he thought what he was saying was true... maybe he wouldn’t kill me.

“I can tell any emotion,” he said. He brought his free hand up to my cheek and caressed my jawline with his thumb. “That’s how I know what you truly feel about me.”

“You disgust me,” I whispered.

“In part, yes. But I also attract you, even now. My touch thrills you. You want me to take you, to fuck you.”

“No.”

He stepped back. Amusement danced in his eyes again.

“No, not yet. Not right now. But you will. And when you want it, I’ll be here waiting. Until then, take my present.” He held out the necklace again, and again I heard a softening in his voice.

“Will you take off this handcuff?” I asked.

His eyes flickered over, and I believe it was the first time he realized then that I was still locked to the pipe. He stepped forward and took off the cuff without another word.

Free. I had both hands. I rubbed my sore wrist, my upper arm feeling for the spot where the razor was. Now, maybe. If I had the chance—

“Take it,” he said, holding out the chain.

I reached out and took the necklace, my fingertips brushing against his. Despite myself, I felt a thrill when he touched me. Damn him! Damn myself! I coughed and turned my attention to the charm, hoping that he wouldn’t see the evidence of my attraction in my face.

“Where did you get this?” I asked.

“It was my mother’s.”

“Where does she live?”

“Nowhere. She’s dead. I was looking through her things.”

I didn’t dare ask the question that was floating through my mind:
Did you kill her?
Then I remembered the noise I’d heard from upstairs.

“Was that why I heard you screaming before?”

His eyes flashed down to mine, and there was danger in them. A frightened anger. I had stepped into something I didn’t understand, and there was more here than I wanted to know.

“I wasn’t screaming.” His voice was hoarse, too quiet. It sounded like the rasp of a rattler’s tail before it lashed out to strike.

“Fine,” I said quickly.

“Do you want to wear it?” he asked.

I nodded. I didn’t want to make him angrier than he already was. I could sense that he was on the edge of lashing out, and I sure as hell didn’t want him to lash out at me.

He took the necklace back, and again I felt the brief thrill of his touch on my hand. He unclasped the chain and motioned for me to turn around.

Facing the back wall, my hand moved up under the shirt I was wearing. My fingers touched the outline of the razor. I could pull it out now. I could whip around, slice through the air, slice through his throat. If I aimed right, I could cut his jugular and escape, run, run—

His fingers slid under my hair, brushing it to one side. At his touch, I shivered. The sight of his teary eyes, the tremble of his voice—I couldn’t do it. Not now. Something held me back.

Maybe it was that I wasn’t a killer myself. Maybe I was scared that it was dark, and if I messed up I would ruin my one chance at escape. Maybe I felt sorry for him. Whatever the reason, my fingers retreated, leaving the razor tucked safely in the bottom of my bra.

He brought the chain over my head, encircling my neck. On the nape of my neck I felt his knuckles graze my skin as he closed the clasp shut. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine that we were a married couple, and he was helping me get ready for a dinner party. A sense of security swept through me, a warm feeling. The strangest feeling.

Gavriel bent his head and kissed my naked shoulder, his lips trembling almost imperceptibly against my skin. Kissed me like a husband, like a gentle lover. His words were a whisper that floated faintly to my ear in the darkness.

“Happy birthday, kitten.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

     Gav    

Why was I so interested in her? It made no sense. There was a spark of something inside of her that drew me from behind the dark shadow to peer out. No other woman had ever been able to draw me out.

It wasn’t only that I didn’t love the women I brought home. It was more than that. I hated them. Every one of them. Gold-diggers. Idiots. They looked at me and saw that they wanted to see, and didn’t look any further. With a suit on, I was their fantasy - a smoky billionaire tempting them into bed, a lawyer whispering dreams of Paris into their ears, a young CEO who would sweep them away from their boring, useless lives.

That, perhaps, was why she drew me out. She had looked at her boring, useless life and tried to escape it without anyone to help her. She’d taken a look at the world and said… no.

I admired that.

Some might say that suicide is for cowards. I dare them to hold a razor to their wrists and say it as they slice into their own flesh.

There aren’t a lot of things out there that scare me. I’ve put a knife through a man’s heart. I’ve seen blood spurt and froth forward from the lips of the dying on my table. And yet the thought of killing myself terrifies me, sends a shudder out from my hands and through my arms.

The shadow smiles inside me. It knows that there is only one other thing that terrifies me, and that’s running out of people to kill.

I clasped the necklace around her, caressing her collarbone, and thought that she was doing very well. The handcuff was gone from her wrist, but this silver chain was one that would bind her even more tightly to me. There were still some secrets she had yet to reveal to me, but I knew I would be able to take her soon. Then she would be mine, mine for good.

Mine forever.

“Come upstairs, kitten,” I said to her, turning her gently around. “I have another present for you.”

     Kat    

Following Gavriel up the stairs, I wondered if he knew about the razor. It wouldn’t have surprised me to know that he was simply teasing me. How could I use it, anyway? If I held it wrong, or not tightly enough, all I would do is injure him. And anger him.

I didn’t want him to be angry at me. I saw what he did to people who angered him. Whether it was true or not that he only killed bad people, I thought he could probably find an excuse to kill the girl who’d witnessed him murdering someone.

He led me up through the house. Every step I took was slow, savored. The light was bright here, and though it burned my eyes I couldn’t get enough. I’d been stuck down in the darkness for too long. Maybe if I let him do what he wanted to me, he would let me out from there. Maybe—

No. I wouldn’t sell myself for a better cage. I steeled myself and continued up the stairs behind him. He let me into the bathroom, and I took my time. I put toothpaste on my finger and used that to brush my teeth. I wasn’t about to use a serial killer’s toothbrush, no matter how bad my breath smelled.

When I went to leave, though, he stopped me and walked past me into the room.

He sat at the edge of the bathtub and turned on the faucets. Steaming water poured into the cream colored granite tub. I stood in the doorway and watched.

“What are you doing?” I asked finally. Gav looked up as though surprised I was still there.

“You’re going to take a bath,” he said. “That’s your second present, kitten.”

I almost melted inside. It had been nearly a week since I’d bathed.

“Thank you,” I said. He stayed, though, and when the bath was full he made no movement to leave.

“Are you going to stay and watch?” I asked, frowning.

“I’m going to help,” he said.

All the breath ran out of my body, and I crossed my arms.