“Come on. Come on,” I plead as the line rings and rings and rings. Tears prick my eyes. “Brody, please,” I whimper.
“This is Brody. I can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message after the—”
I hang up before the voicemail greeting can even finish. A sob chokes out through the lump in my throat. I spin slowly, my eyes heavy with fear.
But when I finally look up, there’s nothing there. No one is in my yard.
My phone vibrates against the counter—just once. I glancedown.
HUBBY: What’s up?
Something about his brief response sends heat rolling through me. There was someone behind our house. Someone in a mask. Sure, it was probably nothing, but what if I had been in danger? What if something bad happened to me? Would my husband even care?
Should I tell him? Beg him to come home? That’d be smart. It might even get him to care and show some affection again.
But, I can’t bring myself to do it.
ME: Nothing
I wait a moment. Perhaps he’ll feel my pain through the phone. Maybe this time, he’ll call.
A twig snaps outside, pulling my attention back to the window. Cautiously, I approach the window again, rounding the island and moving back toward the far counter and kitchen sink. Red wine has pooled on the marble counter. It will stain if I don’t clean it, but my focus doesn’t stay there. Stepping to the open window, I look outside again. There’s barely any light left now as night descends. There’s nothing out there, just trees and cold damp air. I swiftly snap the window closed and lock it while my heart races in my chest.
I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s out there, watching, waiting. For what, though, I have no idea.
FIVE
The Devil
Beautiful women are a dime a dozen. Beauty is temporary, fleeting. She’s not beautiful—she’s addicting. From the first moment that I saw her, and every moment since, she has haunted my mind, a ghost lurking in the deep recesses of my subconscious, refusing to let me go. She’s entangled herself inside my damn soul, entwining us as one. Plato believed that man was born as one singular creature—a male and female born together, separated at birthand forever cursed to search the Earth for the other half of their soul. That’s where the term soulmate comes from—the other half of your soul that is ripped from you and stolen from your very being at birth.
Ali is my fucking soulmate.
I would search a thousand lifetimes to find her, to claim her, to reunite our fractured souls back together as one. She needs me. She just needs to be reminded of exactly who she belongs to—who she promised herself to.
And it’s not the fucking asshole whose ring she wears on her finger.
I stare at the shimmering diamond. It’s a solitary diamond on a gold band. It’s simple, boring, bland. Just like the man who picked it out. It glints in the light of the moon that streaks through the window. Anger simmers inside me as I stare at it. She won’t wear that shit while I’m inside her. Reaching down, I bring her hand up and stick her ring finger into my mouth. She doesn’t stir. She’s out cold—probably thanks to the drugs I slipped into her wine. She won’t wake. We’ve done this enough to get our routine down—the wine, the drugs, the sex—it’s our time, when we’re free to be together. I slide my tongue against the cold metal, slipping it from her finger easily. I let her hand fall back to the mattress before I spit the offending piece of metal and gem across the room. It clanks against the wood floor.
I don’t look to see where it lands. I don’t give a shit, frankly. Plus, I’m distracted by the beauty beneath me—my Sleeping Beauty. I open her now unadorned left hand and trace the small scar on the inside of her palm. It’s a true mark of dedication, devotion. Not something that can be slipped off like a ring—no, this one is truly forever. I just need to remind her of the promise she made.
I pull back to stare at her sleeping form. Her round tits rise and fall as she sleeps peacefully. The hardened buds of hernipples poke at the light cotton of her T-shirt. The white fabric is nearly sheer in the pale moonlight, allowing me to make out the outline of her darkened areolas and the stiffened peaks of her breasts. She’s excited by my mere presence. Her mind may not yet be aware of what we’ve been doing, but her body knows me—craves me.We’re utterly addicted to each other in the very worst way.
The fact that I let her see me in her yard earlier adds an extra thrill to the evening. I let her know I was there, waiting for her to fall asleep, so we could be together. One day soon, Ali won’t run when she sees me in the daylight.
Sliding my hand under her shirt, I revel in the warmth of her flesh. She’s so soft, so alive, so utterly perfect. My calloused fingers scrape against her delicate paleness as I move to lift the white fabric even higher. The first exposure of the swell of her beautiful breasts has my cock throbbing in my pants. She’s utter perfection. Even though I’ve seen her body before, each time with her is like a fucking gift. When I finally bare her chest completely, I stop and stare. Her breasts are round and soft and just begging for my marks.
One day, one day soon, she’ll be mine and I can cover her in marks so that every one, including her, knows she’s mine.
But for now, I’ll settle for a taste. Bending down, I suck one of the hardened buds into my mouth, flicking the tip with my tongue. Beneath me, she moans in her sleep. I move to the other breast, peppering soft kisses along the swell of her tit. She mewls softly and her hips lift off the bed.
“Such a desperate slut for me, aren’t you, sleeping beauty?” I chuckle as she tosses her head to the side.
She won’t wake up. I’ve tinkered with the drugs for years, making sure to get the right dose where she will remain unconscious while I have my way with her but not so knocked out that her body can’t respond. It’s no fun if I’m worried I mighthave killed her the entire time I’m fucking her.
“Let’s get this off you,” I tell her as I lift her back off the bed with one hand and pull her shirt gently over her head with the other. Her fiery red hair falls back down around us, a cascade of red silk.
Lying her down gently, I snuggle against her. My face lands in the crook of her neck and I savor her scent—floral and sweet, like sugar-tipped roses. The scent has a Pavlovian effect on me and my cock swells to a painful level at a mere whiff of her. I begin to kiss her neck, her jaw, her shoulder—any spot my lips can reach. I touch my lips to hers and she even puckers slightly, desperate for the pleasure and affection she’s starved for during the day, but that I so readily give her at night. Our hips grind against each other through our clothes as I kiss her unconscious form. She moans again in her sleep and I wonder if she’s having a dirty dream about a man in a mask—a dirty dream about me.
