by Con Template
Make a run for it, you bimbo! Hurry before he cuts you up and makes a meal out of you, my brain shouted indignantly, lighting the fuse I needed to get away from him.
"I-I think I'm gonna go," I announced urgently, realizing all too quickly that the only person who could save me from this sexy-but-suspiciously-mental-nutcase was myself.
I unlocked the door with the swiftest of speed and pulled it open just wide enough for myself to fit through. Wasting no time, I dashed in like a thief in the night.
“Oh shit!” he shouted disbelievingly, caught off guard at how quick I was. At the sight of me running away and the door closing shut behind me, I could see him take a stride forward in hopes of blocking the door from being closed. But it was too late. With the sound of the door clicking shut, an official barricade was placed between the stranger and myself.
“Gracie, don't do this,” I heard him implore from the other side of the door.
“Go . . . j-just go away, you scary person!” I managed to squeak out, no longer putting up the façade of being an empowered independent woman. Right now, I was scared shitless.
I could hear him chuckling at the bad name I called him. Even if the door was between us, I could almost hear the smile that adorned his lips while he spoke to me.
“Gracie, stop playing and open up. You have no idea what I’ve given up to be here with you. I'm not wasting another second out here when I’ve been through Hell just to get to you.”
Stop playing and open up?
What he had given up to be here with me?
He had been through Hell just to get to me?
What the fuck?
I was at a loss. I didn't know how to respond. It was official: I had stumbled upon an escapee from the mental hospital and there was a high likelihood that his M.O. was to attack susceptible girls walking home alone at night. His selling point: using his attractive features to persuade them to let their guards down so that he could take them back to their apartments and chop them to pieces.
And to think that I was a willing pawn when I allowed myself to succumb to his charms!
Beads of nervous sweat cloaked my forehead when I digested how terrifying my current situation was. I literally had a near-death experience and only escaped in the nick of time!
Shit.
Holy shit.
Shit like this only happens to me.
At this point, I was already digging my phone out of my wristlet with the sole intention of calling the cops. I wanted to make sure they incarcerated his crazy ass. No one was going to make a newsworthy victim out of me. I was horrified to find that my phone was out of batteries. I had used up the last of its juice to call the cops for that homeless man.
I muttered a curse under my breath. This was my karma for surfing online while at the club and getting homeless men assaulted instead of conserving precious battery life.
“W-what do you want with me?” I managed to splutter out, my intention to keep him in the dark that I had already figured out his M.O. (and that I figured out he was a psychotic serial-killer from the mental hospital).
At the same time, I continued my efforts to defy the laws of battery life by pushing my phone past its capacity.
Please work, please work.
All I needed was a ten-second phone call to the cops because it appeared that everyone in my damn building was missing!
“I already told you,” he answered softly, sternly. I could hear it in his voice that although he was still gentle with me, his patience was wearing thin. “I'm your Guardian.”
“Shoot,” I muttered when my phone refused to turn on. I was past listening to this maniac. I shook in disbelief at the absurdity of all of this. The fact that my cell phone was officially useless in my time of need, the fact that I had a wacko standing outside my door, and the fact that I was tempted to open the door, succumb to sexual frenzy, and hurl myself onto this crazy—but absolutely gorgeous—psycho was scaring the crap out of me.
“This . . . this is nuts,” I couldn’t help but whisper.
I rubbed my temples, feeling an impending headache ensue. I concluded that my next best strategic move was to run upstairs to my room and use the landline instead. Screw stalling the maniac so that the cops could come and arrest him outside. I had to protect myself now.
My decision set, I turned on my heels. I was prepared to dash towards the elevator when his voice filtered through the door.
“Gracie, I'm not joking,” he warned. Steel treaded beneath his gentle voice.
I shuddered. Even with the barrier between us, it felt as though he could see me take off in fear.
“I really don’t want to scare you,” he continued on the other side of the door. “So can you please just open the door so we can talk?”
I shook my head at the door, becoming more and more afraid of the dilemma I was in. How on earth was I supposed to open the door for someone who said, “I really don’t want to scare you”? Did he take me for an idiot? That was the gold-star line to freaking someone out!
“J-just leave me alone,” I stuttered, wanting no more interactions with him. Giving no more thought to his warning, I picked up speed and dashed towards the elevator like a scared little mouse.
“Bloody hell, I didn't want to do this—” I heard him murmur once the sounds of my heels clacking on the tiles echoed throughout the room.
Then, it happened.
Within a split second, as I was about to run into the opened elevator, chain-smoking guy suddenly materialized before me, his arms folded and his lips curved in an annoyed smirk.
He gazed at me with slight reprove.
“—But you just had to be stubborn, right, Gracie?”
Needless to say, when he popped out in front of me like a ghost out of the abyss, I did the only thing I could do at that moment: I screamed like there was no tomorrow.
“One day, you will want everything the world has to offer.”
0 2: The Demon of Lust
“Ahhhhhh!”
With unprecedented instincts, I bolted straight for the emergency stairwell. My heart galloped in pure fear. I could hear the guy sigh knowingly as I sped out of sight, my face turning as pale as a ghost who had received the supernatural shock of her life.
Oh. My. Flying. Pig.
He just appeared out of thin air!
I don't know how fast I ran, but I couldn't stop as I kept wishing for the thirteenth floor—my floor—to appear in sight. I was going crazy with confusion and panic.
This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening, I kept reciting in my mind as I hurtled one step after the other, fearing for my life.
I saw the guy perform something that was so impossible under the law of physics that my brain couldn’t believe what it saw. My brain couldn’t comprehend it, but that did not deter my body from continuing to move. The only thing driving me at that moment was survival instincts in its rawest and most potent form. In the stairwell, all I could hear was the sound of my heels clacking after every step. The sounds reverberated all across the walls, intermingling with my ragged breathing and fearful whimpering.
Needless to say, I was scared shitless.
My only solace to calm my frenzied nerves was to keep running. I was surprised at my stamina of running up thirteen floors and how I didn't topple over the stairs from the heels I wore. I didn't even feel tired. I was just scared. This was all too crazy and mind-boggling. I had to get back to the safety of my apartment so I could figure out what the hell I just saw!
I muttered words of absolute thanks after I reached the thirteenth floor.
Reprieve crashed over me when I ran into the bright haven of light that illuminated my apartment hall. Still terrified for my life, I wasted no time in sprinting to the furthest end of the hall for my apartment door: #999.
I fought hard to steady my hands, struggling to unlock the door.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I mumbled irritably, trying desperately to insert the key.
In my stat
e of intense fear, I couldn’t believe I was still stuck outside my apartment trying to get in.
Honestly, how long does it fucking take to unlock a damn door?!
“Oh! Yes! Yes! Yes!”
A tsunami of relief spread over me once I was finally able to insert my key in the lock. My trembling hand found the doorknob and I pushed my way in. I stumbled into my dark apartment, never feeling safer to be back in my own home. I immediately shut the door and deadlocked it to ensure complete safety. Slowly backing away while my breathing grew slightly steadier, I continued to stare unblinkingly at the door, somehow expecting to hear him knock.
I waited for it.
I knew it was coming.
I knew he was going to knock.
Silence.
When nothing but silence rang in my ears, I let out a disbelieving exhale. My mind was still spinning and trying to make sense of what had transpired. I truly felt like I was going crazy. Did he really appear out of thin air or was my mind messing with me? Did the guy spike my drink at the club and follow me home in hopes of date-raping me or something? Or was I unknowingly on acid, and this was simply a fucked up trip?
My feet continued to instinctively back away from the door that now seemed like the passage to Hell. I forged on with trying to think up alternatives to what I thought I just saw—which was him appearing out of thin air. It couldn’t be possible. It was against all the laws of physics. How could someone materialize out of thin air and—?
My whirlwind of thoughts came to an earthshattering halt when I felt warm arms snake themselves from behind me. A familiar scent of cologne enveloped me while strong arms pulled me into a tight embrace, bringing me closer to someone I had become too well-acquainted with.
Oh no.
I screamed.
Or I thought I did.
My mouth was opened and I screamed with all my might, but nothing came out of my throat.
No, no! What happened to my voice? Where did it go?
With my internal terror alert rising at an all-time high, I brought both of my hands to my throat, subconsciously hoping that the touch would bring my voice back. But the action did no such thing. My heart thumped incessantly as I found myself mute with some strange guy embracing me from behind.
This is what I get for thinking that I was invincible and walking home alone at night, I thought miserably, wishing that I took a cab home instead of trying to save money. I was undeniably at this psycho’s mercy and I feared all the possible ways he could torture and kill me.
“Gracie,” I heard him say gently, his voice detecting the obvious fear in my frozen stance. He embraced me with a bit more care to ease my fears. He rested his lips near my ear and whispered, “I'm really sorry for scaring you. You should know that the very last thing I ever want to do is scare you.”
Though there was genuine regret in his voice, I still found myself shaking. I couldn't control it. I was so terrified. I couldn't believe all of this was happening to me.
He went on, his voice maintaining its soothing quality. “I was hoping that you'd open the door so I would be able to talk to you and—” He stopped as if catching himself in a lie. I could hear the sheepish smile in his voice as his next words flowed out. “Well, if I'm being honest, I was actually hoping that you’d throw yourself at me and let me have my way with your pretty little body before I freak you out and show you the stuff I can do.”
I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the horndog reason he had to add in.
He continued, oblivious to my eye rolling. “But I promise I'm not here to hurt you. I already told you, I'm your Guardian. I'm here to watch over you. I’m here to protect you.”
Eye rolling aside, I was still too freaked out about not having a voice to absorb what he was saying. Instead of responding with a nod of comprehension, my body started to tremble even more. I felt like a feeble mouse that had gotten scooped up by a ravenous cat. I had never felt more helpless and scared for my life.
He sighed quietly, noting the shivering state I was in. Giving me a kiss on the back of my head as if to silently assure me that he wasn't going to hurt me, he added, “I'll give you your voice back if you promise not to scream. Do you promise?”
I nodded vigorously, not caring about anything else other than getting my voice back.
Yes, please give me my voice back, you insanely hot wacko!
At my obvious display of agreement, he moved his lips away from my ears and towards my neck.
The instant he planted a kiss on the side of my neck—electrifying my skin with his supple lips—I felt a surge of energy rise through my body and up towards my throat. Unable to subdue this mysterious force, I couldn't help but let out a huge gasp. I placed a hand on my chest to brace myself for the liberation to come.
“Oh, thank God!” I shouted, overjoyed to hear my own voice.
I heard him chuckle behind me as I thanked God.
“Not quite,” was all he whispered in response to that.
Distracted with the return of my voice, I did not give his response a second thought. I simply rejoiced in my ability to speak again. Disoriented with everything that was hitting me at once, I found myself limp as I unknowingly relaxed under chain-smoking guy’s hold. My back pressed against his rock-hard chest and tall frame. The sense of safety returned to me while a momentary lapse in judgment left me feeling comfortable in his embrace.
Heeding the opportunity to use my sudden calmness to his advantage, chain-smoking guy wasted no time in spinning me around to face him. He had a big grin on his face when I locked eyes with him. He took the liberty to sit down on the arm of the sofa when he spun me around, which meant that the perverted horndog was graced with a close-up view of my cleavage.
He made it no secret that he loved the view.
“Stop staring!” I indignantly commanded, angered by his perversion and the mere fact that he was holding me hostage in my own home.
I tried to take a step away from him, but he responded to my attempt of escape by placing both of his hands on either side of my hips, bringing me closer to him. He continued to sit comfortably on the armchair as he held me in the space between his parted legs.
God, the look on his face made me so mad.
“Are you going to sit around and stare at me all night or are we going to talk about what you did?” I asked sharply, my voice a bit more forceful than it should have been. It may be because I was sure that he wasn't going to hurt me, or it could easily be that all the shock and fear had pushed me over the edge of sanity, but I wasn't afraid when I asked him. At this point, I simply wanted to know what the hell was going on.
Sighing, he stood up and pulled me closer. He lowered his head so that we were almost face-to-face. My knees went weak when he gave me a close-up of his handsome face. I inhaled sharply, taking in another whiff of that sexy cologne of his. It was slightly obscure at that moment, but I still didn't understand why I couldn’t smell the scent of cigarettes on him.
“To be honest, I'd rather just stare and pleasure you all night,” he flippantly answered. His eyes twinkled with playfulness and great sexual innuendos. A slow, seductive smile lined the curves of his lips. I felt myself grow hot at the sight. The sexual heat that emanated from him was unbelievable.
I concluded then and there that I was a masochist on every level.
What girl in her right mind would be turned on in a situation like this?
I was suddenly afraid again. It terrified me that this guy held such power over me.
“I can feel your lust for me, Gracie,” he commented knowingly. His eyes gazed into mine. “You want me just as much as I want you.”
“You’re not real,” I replied, desperately trying to convince myself that none of this was taking place. This was all too insane—it was all too crazy to be real. It was a dream. It was all a big, crazy weird dream.
He arched a brow in amusement. “If I’m not real, then what am I?”
“A figment of my imagination,” I slowly answered,
trying to gather my bearings in this dream world of mine. Breathing had become inconsequential because he had taken every inch of it away by simply being the attractive, dominant, and mesmeric guy that he was. “This . . . you’re not real. I’m hallucinating right now. You’re like one of those . . . one of those dreams. One of those sex dreams. You’re not real.”
“Sex dreams, is it?” he inquired while my thumping heart accelerated with desire. He didn’t mind humoring my notion that he was just a figment of my imagination, especially one pertaining to a sex dream. His gaze darkened with carnality. “Do you have a lot of those, Gracie?”
“N-no,” I said honestly, losing my breath with the amount of sexual energy rolling off his body. I had never had sex dreams before, but I had a feeling that after tonight, sex dreams would be frequent and this sexy creature would always be my leading man.
Male pride burst into his eyes. “So I’m your first?”
I didn’t say anything. I merely inhaled a sharp breath when the room started to get foggy. I could swear I felt invisible hands running up and down my body—caressing me, seducing me, and further throwing me into the mercy of his presence.
I uncomfortably looked around the apartment once I noticed something odd.
Were my eyes playing tricks on me or was the room getting foggy?
Unaffected by my lack of response, his voice became hoarse with need. “What do you want to do with me in your dreams then, Gracie?”
A lot, I answered in my mind.
I was horrified when he hovered his lips over mine and smiled lazily at me. As though hearing my unspoken answer, he drawled, “Show me.”
Heat enflamed my cheeks. I shook my head. Even though this was a dream, I couldn’t bring myself to do something so brave and wanton.
An entertained chuckle emanated from him. “If I’m not real,” he began, running a hand through my hair in adoration, “then why are you holding back?”