Page 12 of After the Chase

I'd held my hand over his mouth for another minute, just to be certain, then I'd stepped back and assessed. The blood loss had been extensive but contained mostly to the bed. Some spatter on the wall behind the headboard, some on my clothes, but it was manageable.

Then I'd pulled out my camera phone. This is the part Chase doesn't know about and I’m actually surprised he has never found my collection as I don’t try to hide it. I photograph all of my victims, not for sexual gratification as I don't experience arousal from death itself. But for the aesthetic contentment of capturing the moment when a threat ceases to exist, the beauty of the empty carcass of the human form. That I was the one to dim their light.

I'd positioned Luca carefully on his back, his arms at his sides, eyes still open and reflecting the distant streetlight. The blood pooling beneath him had created an interesting contrast against the white sheets. I'd taken six photographs from different angles, adjusting exposure to capture the details from the slack expression, to the knife wound barely visible beneath the blood, and the way his fingers had curled inward in his final moments.

Stunning, in its way.

Then I'd cleaned the scene. The gloves had prevented fingerprints. I'd retrieved the knife, wiped it clean, securedit back in place. I'd checked every surface I might have touched like the doorknob, the light switch and the bedframe. I'd checked the bathroom and kitchen for any trace of my presence.

Nothing.

I'd stripped the blood-soaked top sheet and pillowcase, rolled them tightly in the plastic sheeting I'd brought before placing them in a large trash bag and separating the linens into another bag, just in case any of my DNA had transferred. I knew the body would be discovered eventually, probably when he didn't show up for his next shift, but by then Chase and I would be long gone from Venice.

I'd done a final sweep of the apartment, then exited at 3:28am, locking the door behind me, removing my ski mask and stuffing it under my shirt, and placing my gloves in my pockets.

The walk back to the hotel had been uneventful with nobody around. I'd disposed of the bundled linens in a dumpster three blocks away, then the gloves in a separate location. The knife had gone into a canal, the plastic sheeting into another dumpster. By the time I'd reached our hotel suite, I had no items on me other than my backpack and clothing.

Chase was sitting at the desk writing in his journal, waiting for me. I watched as his gaze lingered over me, transfixed on my hands. I looked down and noticed the small speck of blood that must have gotten onto my skin when I removed my gloves. He knew. And that fucking thrilled me.

We then celebrated the night with epic blow jobs and orgasms. But nothing beat the feeling of knowing Chase was falling into the dark side where he belonged. By my side.

Now, lying in bed with morning light filtering through the curtains, I analyze my performance of last night with clinical assessment.

The kill itself was clean. No witnesses, no cameras in that particular building, no evidence linking me to Luca beyond being a customer at the restaurant, and hundreds of tourists eat there weekly. The three nights of surveillance had been necessary. Proper planning and understanding patterns, particularly in another country, minimizes risks.

But…I'd been slightly sloppy in the restaurant itself during our visits. I'd let my reaction show with the cold stare when Luca touched Chase, the possessive hand at the small of Chase's back when we left, the way I'd monitored Luca's every movement with barely concealed hostility. I’m not an emotive guy that anyone can easily read, but it’s a risk as there is always the chance someone could notice.

Chase, of course, had noticed something was wrong. Some staff were wary of me, but that may be down to my cold nature. Chase has mentioned several times that I can come across as severe and unapproachable. But that obviously didn’t work on Luca. Nevertheless, it was careless and something to work on. I may need to learn how to smile and soften my face, although the very idea of being polite and engaging with other people makes me want to punch a wall.

I'll need to be more controlled in public going forward. The possessiveness must remain invisible to everyone except Chase. The bloodshed must stay in the shadows where it belongs.

I am brought back out of my thoughts when Chase stirs beside me, his hand moving across my chest, his breathing changing as he wakes.

"Morning," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

"Morning."

He's quiet for a moment before speaking.

“It will be okay won’t it? Last night….nobody will take you away, will they?” he asks as his eyes are filled with what I have learned is concern.

"It's fine, baby. You worry too much.”

He scoffs before kissing my chest and continuing to run his hands across my abdomen.

“Arrogant much,” he mumbles.

“I know what I’m doing.” He turns his head and looks at me with more questions written across his face.Come on, Chase. Let that curiosity take over.

"Did he suffer?" he whispers.

“Briefly.”

“Did he know it was you?”

“Yes.”

Chase's pupils dilate as his hand unconsciously slides down my body, finding my cock already half-hard.