Raising the implement in his hand, he brought those tresses down against her exposed behind. Lily gasped, pulling in a sharp intake of breath between her teeth at the impact.
“Good girl, Lily.”
He was almost growling now, his arousal and excitement burgeoning to new and precarious levels.
“Ethan…”
Her voice was like a sigh, his name reverberating in the air around him.
“Hold still,” he told her firmly. “We’re just getting started, Lily.”
Her body tensed at his words, and just the way she responded made him hard. His hand was in the air once more, and Ethan watched as the flogger landed over the curves of her body again and again. Lily’s sweet little whimpers made him ache with need, the yearning as real as he’d ever known, but there was still a part of his mind that realized this was just a vision. This wasn’t really happening; she wasn’t really there. Not yet anyway.
But she would be.
Lily was coming, and one day soon Ethan knew he’d catch sight of her, and all of a sudden, he had an idea that she was going to change him.
She was going to change everything.
Chapter Three
“Will you come with me, Lily?”
Jody’s plaintive tone pulled at her friend’s heartstrings as she once again made the case for the secret rendezvous that night.
Lily swallowed, conflicted by the question. On the one hand, she wanted nothing more than to go with Jody, but on the other hand, she knew her parents would freak if they found out. “I want to,” she started, “but you know what my mum will say.”
“But nothing!” squealed Jody, clutching Lily’s hand as she bounced up and down. “If you want to, then you should. We’re not babies anymore, Lily. This is the sixties! Damn it, it’s nearly the seventies! We shouldn’t be bound by our parents’ narrow expectations.”
A long sigh escaped Lily’s lips at her friend’s repost. She couldn’t argue with Jody—she didn’t want to—because everything she said was the truth. They were both nearly nineteen years old, and had been working for almost two years in the small beauty salon where they’d met. As far as Lily was concerned, that made them plenty old enough to go out in the evenings. She was earning her own money, and paying her own way, so why couldn’t she have a social life? And yet, she already knew how her parents would feel about the idea. They were still stuck in the pre-war era, and thought a woman’s place was at home. The concept of their only daughter gallivanting about in the evenings was never well-received.
“You’re right,” Lily conceded. “I should be able to go out. I just know the reception I’ll get when I tell them.”
“So, don’t tell them?” Jody suggested with a cocked brow. “Just slip out when they think you’re in bed. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Lily’s belly clenched at the sound of her friend’s statement. There was no point denying the accusation. She had slipped out of her bedroom window and onto the porch roof on more than one occasion, but even so, Lily could still recall the look of disgusted disappointment which had painted her father’s face when he found out. And his words still rang in her ears.
Good girls are not found out of bed at night, Lily, he’d told her firmly. There’s a name for the kind of woman who walks the streets in the evening.
She flushed as the old wave of shame washed over her again. No matter how many times she rationalized his anger, Lily still felt guilty when she remembered it.
“We’re meeting at nine,” Jody continued, ignoring the fact that her friend hadn’t even responded. “And then I thought we could go straight there.”
Lily swallowed. “Where is it we’re going again?”
Now it was Jody’s turn to sigh. “I’ve told you a hundred times already!” she replied. “It’s this place off Cardinal Street. Tracy told me about it. There’s this guy there who runs the parties, and anyone can come and listen to him talk, and play music. It’ll be far out.”
Jody’s gaze had taken on that glazed expression, the one that told her friend there was little point in arguing because Jody’s mind was already made up. She was going to go, regardless, and she knew Lily wouldn’t want her attending alone.
“I don’t know,” argued Lily. “It sounds kind of weird. I mean, what does everyone do there?”
Lily watched as her exasperated friend rolled her eyes. “They do whatever they want, Lily,” she implored. “That’s the point. It’s a place to go and talk, and listen and dance, and be free, and just… feel.”
She rolled her head back as her brown eyes fluttered closed, and her arms made small circles in the air. Lily watched her cynically. She was nowhere near as keen on this hippie lifestyle as Jody.
“Don’t you ever want that?” Jody snapped as her eyes blinked open again. “Don’t you ever want to just let go?”
Lily inhaled slowly at her question. Sure, she wanted to let go, but not in the way Jody meant. Not in a house full of strangers. But still, her friend was obviously resolute, and anyway, a part of Lily was intrigued. She had heard about the guy Jody referred to—salacious whispers exchanged by women on their coffee breaks—exactly the kinds of conversations that would incur the wrath of her father. She’d tried to be a good girl since the last time she’d crept out of the house, and on the whole, she’d succeeded. Lily had attended church with her parents most Sundays, and she’d even joined her mother’s knitting group in an attempt to keep busy, but there was no getting away from it. Lily needed more. More than scripture, and she suspected, more than either one of her parents could give her. She needed to be herself, and while she wasn’t sure if the things Jody promised would lead her to the right place, Lily had an idea she had to try. She had to go tonight.
“Sure,” she told Jody softly. “Sure, I do. I’ll meet you at nine, in the usual place?”
She sat in the small living room, listening to the sounds of her father’s crackling radio. Of course, her dad refused to allow any popular music in the house, calling it the devil’s noise, so instead, they were all forced to endure the droning monologue of the news.
“They’re still looking for him, Jean,” her father muttered as he looked up from over his newspaper.
Lily turned toward the place he was sitting, wondering how anyone could truly need the news in both print and audio at the same time. It was all so grim and depressing anyway, why would he want it twice, at all?
“What’s that, dear?” chirped her mother from the ironing board on the other side of the room.
Lily’s mother liked to iron—a lot—and she seemed to have enjoyed the task most evenings for as long as Lily could remember. She ironed her father’s office shirts and trousers, of course, but her obsession went far deeper than that. Jean liked to iron just about every item of laundry she encountered, including bed linen and even underwear. Lily thought it was utterly crazy behavior.
“That killer,” her father went on. “He’s still on the loose.”
“God help us,” replied her mother, pausing the ironing for a moment to make the sign of the cross. “I do hope they catch him soon, dear. I’m at the point where I’m scared to leave the house and do my shopping in the morning.”
Her father put down his paper, an act which made Lily really take notice. “I’m not having it,” he told his wife as he reached for his cup of tea. “I’m going to call into the station myself and see what’s taking them so long. It comes to something when I’m scared to send my daughter to work, or leave my wife at home.”
“I’m fine, Daddy,” Lily assured him from her place on the floral sofa. “I feel perfectly safe when I’m out.”
That was a lie, but Lily didn’t want her parents to know how insecure she was really starting to feel. She glanced between the two of them, noticing how her mother shook her head at the sound of her words.
“You’re not safe, Lily,” her mother insisted. “This killer has been out there for months now, and his spree is getting worse. I’m of two minds about letting
you work there at all. I’m not sure it’s right, working in a place like that!”
Jean screwed her face up as she completed her sentence, but sent the hot iron sailing across the latest linen regardless.
Lily sighed. Not this conversation again… “We’ve been through this, Mum,” she told the older woman. “There is nothing wrong with my salon. We just help ladies to look better, and feel better about themselves, that’s all. It’s harmless.”
“It is not harmless,” her mother assured her. “Those sorts of places make respectable women into sluts. I would never allow you to leave this house in the amount of make-up you pile onto some of their faces.”
“You’re being judgmental, Mummy,” Lily snapped. “Our customers are not slutty.”
Not that Lily knew what the word, slutty, inferred. Not really. But she had a fairly good idea by the way her mother was overreacting.
“Don’t speak to your mother that way, Lily,” her father admonished.
Lily turned to see her father, Jim, putting his cup down again, his stare intense and disapproving. Jim Simpson had been drinking from that same mug, in that same chair, in this room for more years than Lily had even been alive. The thought depressed his daughter immensely.
“She is only concerned for your well-being,” Jim went on. “We both are.”
“I know,” Lily replied with a sigh. “And I’m sorry, but you have to remember, I’m an adult now. I can take care of myself.”
“You are not an adult!” her father barked. “And you’ll not be until you turn twenty-one years of age.”
Lily scowled, suppressing the urge to answer back. She knew what little good that would do her. Her parents were both old-fashioned, and seemed to have completely ignored the many social changes the nineteen sixties had brought to the United Kingdom. There had been some talk about the age of legal responsibility lowering from twenty-one to eighteen years, but of course, Lily’s parents were not interested in such ideas. To them she was still just their little girl, and the fact that she’d left school and was now earning her own money made no difference to them whatsoever.
“By which point, I’d like to see you married to some local lad,” her mother added. “You’ll be ready to settle down by then.”
Settle down? Her mother had to be joking. What Lily wanted to do was meet people, open her mind, and have a little fun. Her mother’s idea of settling down meant marriage and babies, and that was not something Lily saw happening for several more years.
There was silence between them again, the crackling tones of the radio the only interruption in the stifled atmosphere. The announcer was still ranting on about police theories on the latest killings, and his words made Lily shudder. The victims had all been young women, and though Lily had been a grade ahead, she had gone to the same school as the most recent victim. The killings had brought terror to the whole community, and Lily could understand her parents’ reservations, but still, she was tired of their overprotective act. Life in their house was comfortable enough, but since she’d reached her teens, Lily had been seriously suffocated. Cossetted, Jean had called it when Lily had tried to speak to her mother about how she was feeling. The word inferred that their only child had been pampered and spoilt, and Lily greatly resented the implication. She may have had a secure upbringing, but she was hardly spoiled.
“I think I might head to bed,” she murmured, feigning a yawn as she met her father’s eyes.
“Already?” replied Jim, checking the mantle clock which sat over the small fireplace. “It’s only seven. Isn’t it a little early for you, Lily?”
“I’m just tired,” she told him quietly. “Work is very busy at the moment. Maybe I’ll read for an hour or so.”
“All the more reason to give it up,” interjected Jean from the other side of the room. “And find a nice young man instead?”
Lily wasn’t sure how much more of this discussion she could tolerate. “Good night,” she called, already on her feet before her mother could launch another attack about her job at the salon. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Lily’s father shook his head, but thankfully resisted the urge to comment on her abrupt departure.
“Good night, love,” he called behind her as she skipped up the stairs.
Lily was vaguely aware of his voice, but her mind was already elsewhere, thinking about what she was going to wear to meet Jody.
Chapter Four
Ethan had watched the woman for a while, just like he always did—taking his time before he struck. He liked to watch. He enjoyed the details. The way a woman tucked her hair behind her ear, or the small furtive glances she made as she walked; those were the things that kept him awake at night. Those were the things he recalled long after she had taken her last breath.
The image of the blonde he waited for now had come to him in the usual way, during one of his meditative visions. Ethan had started meditating years ago, after the problems with his father; as a means to ease his busy mind. The logic had been simple, if he could find a way to quiet his stressed brain, then he could center himself. He could be calmer and more focused, and Ethan liked that idea. Meditation evoked other unexpected consequences as well, though. Once Ethan had mastered the basic techniques, he’d developed the odd ability to read other people’s thoughts, and experienced the first in what were to become regular prophetic visions. In these visions, he saw flashes of the future. Flashes of his prey; of how their fates were to entwine in the coming weeks.
This evening, he’d chosen the petite looking blonde from a vision a few weeks ago. He hadn’t seen her in his thoughts since, but Ethan had spotted her in town last week, and over the course of the last few days, he’d determined the basics. She always took the same bus from the city, heading out to the suburbs at forty-two minutes past six, where she got off on the corner of Chessington Road. That’s where Ethan was waiting, watching as she hurried down the busy street, clutching the strap of her purse close to her body, and watching as she’d taken her usual short-cut into Cherry Gardens.
Falling into a casual pace behind her, Ethan took the same short cut, disappearing into the dark alley just a moment after the blonde. The back street was so poorly lit that he could barely see her as he approached, but Ethan knew she was there. He could hear the tell-tale click of her heels as they hit the stony path, and he smiled to himself as he noticed how her pace had sped up since he’d joined her.
Smart girl, he thought to himself. She’d read the newspapers, and she’d heard the news. There was a killer around these parts; it was hardly safe to be wandering unlit alleys, much less doing so when alone. Yet, there she was. On her own and utterly vulnerable.
The path rounded to the right, bringing them both closer to the only street light on the whole alley. Sickly orange illumination flooded a small section of the path, and for the first time since he’d entered the back street, Ethan laid eyes on his target.
Predator and prey, poised in a finely balanced moment where only one of them could win.
The woman glanced back at him quickly, and the panic in her eyes was obvious. It was right there, screaming at him to stop. To turn around, to walk away, and pretend he hadn’t seen her. Except it wasn’t that simple. Ethan couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to.
“Do you have the time, love?” he called to her, throwing her one of his most devastating smiles.
That made her stop and turn in his direction again, though he noticed her feet were still backing away as she glanced up into his face, as though they alone could still sense the danger he represented. Clocking his smile, she tried to return the gesture, but Ethan could see how forced the action was. Smiles were funny things. Somehow women seemed programmed to respond to them, even if their brains were clearly sending them red flags at the same time. The art of the devilish smile had helped him snare more than one prize in the last few months.
The blonde woman hesitated. Evidently, she was still unsure, but still, the urge to be polite and courteous won o
ut even over those instincts designed for self-preservation.
“Er, it’s ten to seven,” she replied nervously.
“Thank you,” he told her sincerely. “It’s so nice to meet someone with good manners these days.”
She paused, eyeing him wildly, as though she had no clue how to respond to that. “No problem,” she murmured at length. “Glad to have helped.”
Turning on her heel, she made to stride away, but Ethan was on her in a heartbeat. He wrapped one of his large leather-gloved palms around her mouth, smothering the scream which predictably left her lips and used his free arm to draw her small body flush against him. She behaved in the way nearly all of the others had done before her. The initial instinct was always panic; shock and disbelief, and in those first few moments, Ethan knew he could take control—before the anger rose in her, before the fight returned.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he lied. “All I want is sex.”
That was completely untrue. Her fate had been sealed from the first moment she’d appeared in his visions, but the truth wouldn’t help her now.
She tried to twist her head to catch his eye, but Ethan held her steady as he forced her body away from the pale orange light, and toward the black expanse of shadow. There were no witnesses there; no nearby houses with people who might have heard her. The alleyway was surrounded by a brick wall on both sides, backing onto a derelict warehouse on the right and the local cemetery on the left, but Ethan was careful. It wasn’t worth taking the risk, and honestly, he preferred to work in the shadows.
“Please,” she was trying to say beneath his palm. “Please no!”
“Quiet,” he ordered her. “Be quiet, and be a good girl, and you can walk out of this alive. Got it?”
Ethan leaned down, growling into her nape. He could sense the full-blown panic in the woman now as the true weight of her predicament fell over her.
Flawed: (A Psychological Dark Romance) (The Dark Necessities Prequels Book 1) Page 2