Darkroom Saga Omnibus 2

by Poppet

  Fingering the new facet on my pale skin, I smirk. She won't doubt that the rib I give her is mine, this incision is a strategic move in the trust tournament. I've been watching her for days via remote surveillance, I've watched her discover my training DVD's and how she's secretly training to fight.

  Sexy – yes. Stupid – definitely.

  If she wants to fight she won't deny me the pleasure.

  She's tried my cigarettes, consumed all the vodka in the house and has now started on the beer, fucked herself into a new galaxy, and goes outside more often than a ghost looking for its body.

  The lady is tempting me, she's goading me, but before I discipline her I'll diffuse the ticking bomb of her reborn virginity. She likes sex, she can't deny it now that she's exposed she likes her masturbation DVD the most. She watches it first thing in the morning with coffee, again after cleaning and cooking and English, then again before bed with her Irish coffee.

  I've never seen her consume a drop of alcohol so what the hell is she up to? And what the fuck is outside that she's so interested in?

  •

  Polina:

  I need to see him again. Ever since his shadow wilted over mine I haven't been able to get him out of my head. I close my eyes and smell him, I hear his velvet voice playing on loop, I see the way his muscles clench and ripple in that snug black shirt, and I imagine that bright pink dildo is him when I fuck myself.

  Now that I've started this 'homework' for Mikah it surprises me how good it feels when the body gets excited; and I feel those tingles when I think of Victor.

  It's a craving that's consuming my mind. I exercise so long to tire myself out, but it doesn't stop the ache. It's a living feeling within me, it squeezes my insides, it robs me of hunger, it consumes me. I try get drunk to forget him, I smoke Mikah's cigarettes to chase away the smell of his crisp cologne living in my nose, I listen to music and watch DVDs to erase his image and voice haunting me – but nothing works. I know I'm taking a huge risk but after watching ten English DVDs in a row I know I can leave him a note now. I pretend it's homework because Victor said there are cameras everywhere, so I make my note look like I'm practicing my spelling with the TV, but it's a disguise.

  Viktore

  Meet me same place.

  I wait when dark.

  Then I went outside with it hidden in my pocket, picking flowers down the garden path, pretending to check for mail, leaving the note behind in the mailbox. That night I went to sit outside, waiting in the dark. And again the next night. Now I worry because Mikah said the bratva would check on me, but they haven't. I worry because Mikah said he'd be gone three days and this is day four. I can count to ninety-eight so I know today is day four. I worry Victor will come and Mikah will catch me.

  I am in love and it's not with Mikah. I'm afraid Mikah will kill him if he discovers my covert crush. I've hidden the switchblade inside the mattress, I did it pretending to make the bed; every morning when I make the bed I cut a little more until it's deep enough that I have to slide my whole hand into the cut to get it out. Mikah won't feel it there now and because I make the bed he won't see the broken material. I hope.

  Sipping my beer I stare at the clouds overhead lit with city lights, it makes them glow like dirty sulfur. This is the devil's world, it shines with light, with fire, with pain. The air would be dense with smog if not for the sea winds. We're inland a bit but I know how close we are to the ocean, it's where I landed like a smuggled bag of cocaine.

  I sat on a whole pile of it but I didn't know, it was hidden inside the crate, every cigarette filled with white powder instead of tobacco. Some of the others told stories of kidnapped girls given boob augmentation, making them have huge breasts because 'western men' like them big. In America they say they like everything bigger, butts and boobs especially, but they said it was a lie because those girls were cut open once off the plane, their boobs were full of bags of cocaine, they weren't going as mail order brides like they thought, they were simply smugglers for the cartel.

  For that reason only I am grateful I came here too young to have real breasts, mine were still small then, and sore, so sore. Growing boobs was the most painful thing and Oleg pinched them often while they developed, he made me cry so my mouth would open wide, make me scream by tweaking the blossoming flesh. It hurt just to touch them without him brutalizing them, but he did it because I have a small mouth, he dislocated my jaw when he stuck his cock in my mouth. He held a knife to my eye and warned me that if I bite down he'll stab my eyeball, so I didn't bite despite the pain, and then pop, it was slack and in agony.

  Three days later it popped back in on its own, and the sound was loud as a gunshot. My jaw hurt for months after. I hate Oleg. I fucking hate that bastard with every breath. In my nightmares I still taste him, smell the sour stink of his skin, taste the disgusting spasm he ejected onto my tongue. He'd do it by gripping my hair and pulling on it so hard my whole scalp burned with pain, ramming in and out of my mouth until I choked.

  He never sedated me like he did the others, I wish I knew why. I'd rather not know what he was doing to me, like them. But they had panic when they found blood and bruises and were so hurt they had to crawl to the toilet, without remembering how they got sore. I couldn't tell them, I knew they were afraid but I didn't have the heart to tell them what happened while they slept, how many men I heard grunt until I could smell their sweat. One man left every girl he fucked with dead. Oleg said he likes to choke while he fucks. Now I'm afraid of hands on my throat. I hope Mikah doesn't like to choke while he fucks.

  “Polina?”

  Snapping into a stand and bracing to fight, my heart jackhammering, I'm almost dizzy with fright. “Victor! Don't do that! Jesus fucking Christ you're lucky I don't stab you!” I sit again, abruptly, my heart thundering so hard it robs my breath. “Fuck, you give me heart attack.” He laughs and it's like soul music. I stop inhaling just to hear it. It's true what he says, God did make him first. He's perfect. Breathing again I hide my hands in my skirt because they're shaking with the fright.

  “You wanted to see me?” he asks, sitting next to me and stretching his legs out, bending them at the knee and linking his arms around them. It makes his upper arms bulge with power and I stare, then guiltily look at his face, at the silhouette of his throat with its strength and bump; the bump moves when he swallows.

  He smells so fresh and new, like the forest after rain.

  “Um, I – uh – wait, I must catch my breath.”

  Chuckling, he watches me, and it makes me feel hot knowing those mysteriously dark eyes are on me, seeing my naughty secrets skittering across my cheeks when they burn. Does he know I fuck myself three times a day, and then some more in the middle of the night, all thinking of him, wishing he was the one to take my second virginity?

  Why must Mikah own me? Why can't Victor own me instead?

  “Didn't the kings in the bible have lots of wives?” I blurt.

  “Yes, they did. So?”

  “So you can have lots too, it's normal for god's people to have one for each day of the week, like a rich lady and her shoes.”

  Victor laughs again, sounding very amused. I wish I could make him laugh forever, it's a lullaby soothing my soul.

  “Each to their own, Polina. What's up? Leaving a note for me isn't for companionship, it's for emergencies.”

  “Well, I have no one else to ask and can't trust strangers, I have questions.”

  He tilts his head, his short hair catching the light from the house, and I figure he must be at least 6'5 but he wears it well; he's not a small man, not in any sense. The lady on the DVD has a big fake cock, mine isn't nearly as big as hers, and I wonder if Victor's matches the rest of him?

  I know us women have boobs that get bigger as we age, do men also get bigger as they age? How old is he? Is he too big in his pants because he's almost old? Old lady boobs are big and buxom, jiggly with huge nipples. I think I will like having big boobs, it's a sign of maturity. Mine are st
ill so immature I'm ashamed when men look at them. Foma liked that, he found it funny that I wanted to hide my breasts, that's why he made me serve in the topless bar. He said it was to remember he found me and saved me from being shipped back to Oleg and Papa, I owe him. I'll always owe him.

  Sometimes I get tired of debt that never gets paid, it's endless. No one tells you the debt is paid after ten years, they just say you owe them and that's that.

  Sighing heavily I stare at the clouds again.

  “What's the big sigh for?” he asks quietly.

  “Why do I owe? When do my debts get paid? I don't want to pay with my body no more. I've paid for too long, maybe I want my body for me, maybe I think God gave it to me when I was born and so it's mine. He gave me a heart, a mind, and a body. Why do men own my body when God gave it to me?”

  “They'll argue that it's on loan from God and your husband gets it as the deal you make when he marries you. Is Mikah marrying you?”

  “No, he says Adam didn't marry Eve, she got his rib, so he's gone to cut out his rib for me.”

  Victor's mouth twists into a flat line, which is a shame because he has such sexy lips. They're both plump, but the bottom one has a dent in it which makes it two cushions instead of one. I wish I could touch it. “Is that what he told you?” he asks quietly, like we're sharing vows at midnight.

  “Yes, and I believe him. He was not happy I demand his rib for my pussy.”

  That delicious laughter baptizes my ears again and I lean closer, watching his laugh. He seems like a happy man for such a damaged soul. He buries the anger well, but I see the tension in his hands and the way his eyes constantly search the darkness for danger.

  I hope his wife is good to him because he really needs to relax. Maybe he needs sex?

  “When was the last time you got laid?” I ask.

  “None of your business, Polina.”

  “Why? It's okay to talk about it.”

  “Maybe in your circles, but it's not polite to ask people personal questions.”

  “Are you a gentleman?” I wonder, tilting my head, trying to learn how to know what a gentleman is like.

  “No.”

  “You lie. You don't stink, you're clean and neat and smell fresh. Your beard is today's only, there's no mark on your clothes, and you don't curse. And now you tell me I'm asking personal questions, which is a normal question because I heard people talk about sex every night at work. I saw men milk themselves and tell me they want to fuck me when I danced at dedushka's, and you say it's wrong?”

  “It is wrong. What happens between a man and his wife is no one's business.”

  “But you're tense and unhappy. I think maybe you need to get laid.”

  “I look tense and unhappy? Who made you the leading expert?”

  “Life did. I know unhappy when I see it, Victor. You can't hide the anger or the pain, it bleeds out of your eyes.”

  “Why did you want to see me?” he snaps, using the deep voice I know is Mikah's angry voice too.

  “Why the deep voice? Does God teach you that?”

  “Alpha! He is Alpha, not god. He's the head of a dangerous cult. He thinks he's god, but make no mistake he's no god.”

  “That's what I wanted to ask you. I wondered how god can live in America? I thought he was in heaven? And I thought his son was in heaven too.”

  “He wishes I was,” laughs Victor under his breath, so deep Satan heard it.

  “Why?”

  “I told you why. He was there when they tried to murder me, still they're searching for me to finish what they started so I have to finish it first. Why am I here, Polina? I don't have time for idle conversation.”

  “I wanted to see you. To learn more about how I can join you,” I lie.

  I do want to join him, with my body and my mind and my soul. I don't give a shit about his crusade, but I'll join it just to be near him.

  “Are you thinking of defecting and joining the resistance?” he asks.

  “Only if it means I'm no longer in debt and my body is mine, and if anyone I don't like touches it I can cut their throat and keep their eyes in a jar in the freezer.”

  “That fighting instinct you have, that's why we need a woman like you. Most of the fallen angels are so afraid and conditioned they beg and plead and live in fear, they are terrified to attack their assailants. We need you, Polina. We need you as bait, you're young enough and accustomed to appearing as something you are not. You'd make a great decoy to ambush these bastards one by one.”

  “Why not just kill them? Why play with your food? If you're hungry, eat. If you're angry, kill. It's not a hard choice to make, Victor.”

  “Because I'm trying to find Alpha. He's the one I'm after, I need the disciples and angels to lead me to him, that means getting enough of them who actually know where the fuck he is to give up their vows of silence – by force.”

  “Mikah said he lives two states over. Maybe you'll find him there?”

  Victor sits up, his legs coiled for a boost into standing, like he's ready to attack something. “When did Mikah say this?”

  “Before he left, well before then, before God branded me–”

  “He branded you?!”

  I shrink from his rage, it growls out of his voice like a demon and gives me goosebump arms. “Yes. I thought … he said he marks his people, on the right side so we know we're chosen or something.”

  “Show it to me.”

  “No.”

  “Polina!” he snarls, and it's coated in danger and violence.

  I want to make him angry some more because his voice comes out sounding like sin sifted through ash. It's making my pussy clench in weird breaths, in and out, tight and untight. I feel a tickle deep inside me and it feels really fucking good.

  He has a very lucky wife. I hate her.

  “It's my body, Victor. I'll show you mine if you show me yours. An eye for an eye, mister.”

  “Show you my god mark?” he asks, losing the wrath in his voice.

  “No, tell me the answer to my question. Then I'll show you my mark.”

  “Which question?”

  “When was the last time you got sex?”

  “Fuck off.”

  “So you do curse.”

  “Only at nosy women asking personal questions.”

  “Go home and get laid, Victor. You're too tense. It's making you grumpy.”

  “Your name's not Dr Phil or Dr Ruth. Alpha doesn't brand women, Polina. This is a first. What the fuck is he up to now?”

  “Who are Dr Phil and Ruth?”

  “It doesn't matter. Look, I should go. When you're ready for extraction just put something red in the window as we agreed. Whoever comes to get you is trustworthy, you have my word on it.”

  “You're leaving?” I ask, knowing already because he's standing up.

  My heart sinks and I feel prickles in my eyes like I'm sad.

  Don't go! Don't leave me!

  Standing in a scramble I go onto tiptoes and kiss him, pressing my lips against his and feeling the warm silkiness depress with the pressure. It's so good I could lick them.

  He grabs my shoulders and shoves me away, holding me firmly at arm's length. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “God, uh Alpha, they say we must kiss all brethren in greeting. I didn't kiss you and you're like his prototype son, or something … really special. I sinned.”

  “I'm no longer one of his angels, Polina. I might be Vengeance but I no longer work for his side of the firmament. You'll recall that the first angel God ever made was ousted from heaven. He was kicked out, ostracized, and they've dragged his name through the mud ever since. I'm that child, I'm that angel. The first was rejected and the rest of mankind call him the devil. You just kissed Alpha's version of Satan. Don't do it again because I have boundaries and you just overstepped them.”

  “Lucifer was an angel, and is beautiful. In the old land they said Lucifer means bringer of light. The easter mass still calls the son of God - L
ucifer. Not everyone has forgotten your beauty and brilliance.”

  “Polina, what the hell is with you? Have you been taking drugs? Did Mikah give you tablets to take?”

  “No Victor, I'm not high. You live in the past, you keep yourself where you were hurt - in your head, I know because I do the same. But I don't see a man with hurts, your eyes tell the stories but you're not him no more and god can't hurt you no more. You're free of him and I don't understand why you aren't running from him! Go have babies and get laid, forget about god. He's just an asshole who wraps heads in plastic and beats you until you vomit. Don't give him your time, he's stealing you from the people who need you more than god ever did.”

  “Why do you say that?” he grumbles, as if I just pissed in his beer.

  “Because if I was your wife I'd need you with me, I wouldn't want you far away talking to strangers in the dead of night. I also wouldn't want you near the bratva or god. He's a bad man, Victor. He might be bad, but you don't have to wear his sins no more. Be happy because tomorrow life can change, enjoy your wife, make your bed your grave and lie in it with the peace of death. That's what beds are for, for release from worry, for love, for rest. It's where you leave your worries behind and find sleep and pleasure.”

  “For a young chick you sure have enough opinions about my life,” he snaps in the deep voice.

  “Because I'm a finger puppet and don't fear the death. It will happen regardless. If I can find one week of peace in this life I will be grateful for it. I sure as fuck wouldn't be out looking for the same trouble I left behind if I escape it.”

  “You're a finger puppet?” he scowls, and glory be but he looks fantastic when he wears the angry face.