Taboo Unchained

by C. M. Stunich

  “And who do you think that might be from?” I ask, my voice eerily calm, at odds with the wild expression I know is stretching across my face. Like some fucking fairytale princess, like a beauty with a beast, Robbie closes the book and tucks it against her chest before coming over to me and pressing the lightest of kisses against my wild mouth.

  “I don't know, Luke, who is it?” she asks softly, gasping in pain when my fingers find her upper arms and shake her, gently. Oh so gently. But I'm holding back and it hurts, really, really hurts.

  “Why are you here, Robbie? You've seen what I can do. You should run far, far away. I'm not a damaged man who needs to be fixed; I'm a monster that can't be changed. It would be detrimental for you if you even tried.”

  “Is that why you're hesitating, Luke? You're afraid for me?” Robbie slides her arms from my grip and steps back, pulling the book away from her chest and touching it reverently with her fingertips. “Because something happened to Aliyah?”

  “I didn't lay a finger on her!” I don't mean to scream, but even the slight implied notion that I could've hurt the love of my life infuriates me to a point where even the beast means nothing. Hurt Aliyah? I'd have rather cut off my own dick and fed it to a pack of dogs. But her brother … He's the one monster I haven't been able to track down, and I just know he's out there somewhere living a life he doesn't deserve. The measly eight years he spent in jail was nothing compared to the pain he inflicted. Since he gave birth to my demon, I feel like he owes him at least a single meeting – one that he absolutely will not walk away from. Just as soon as I find him … As soon as I hunt him down.

  “I know you didn't, Luke. I know you wouldn't hurt somebody you cared about.” Robbie fingers through the pages, her gaze on the shape of the words if not the meaning. I let my head fall back and swallow a deep breath, one that makes my chest ache.

  “But how, Robbie? How do you know that? We've hardly spent any time together.” I keep my gaze on the off-white ceiling, the one I plan on painting today. White is acceptable; off-white is not. It looks dirty to me, and I can't abide by that.

  “Do you believe in love at first sight, Luke?”

  “No.” I drop my head and gaze into Robbie's bright blue eyes, so full of energy and light that I start to shrink away, like a vampire faced with the blinding rays of the sun. “No, I don't. Love is work, hard-earned and difficult to wrap your fingers around. It takes time and attention.”

  “But it starts with a seed, like a rose bush, doesn't it?” Robbie comes towards me again, effectively cornering me in the hallway. My hand drops to the handle of my bedroom door, and it swings open behind me. I step back over the threshold and stay there, as if this bit of space between us will protect us both. Robbie doesn't follow, not at first, and instead pauses in the hallway holding my most precious possession in her hands. “So you're pushing me away because you're afraid?”

  “I haven't felt fear in a decade,” I say, which isn't entirely true anymore. Robbie makes me feel fear. Whether that's a good or a bad thing, I have yet to decide. To add insult to injury, I decide to add, “not since you were in diapers.” Robbie laughs and shakes her head, tucking chocolate hair behind her ear. She looks nothing at all like Aliyah – more athletic, less curvy, smaller breasts, bigger eyes – but I can't help seeing my dead soul mate in every fucking glance.

  “Since I was eight, Luke. A kid, just like you were. Like … you still are … ”

  “I am a grown fucking man,” I growl, taking a step forward. Robbie doesn't move, and I don't break the threshold. “How dare you.” I run my fingers through my hair and try to act indignant. I don't enjoy entertaining the thought that my growth was stunted by Aliyah's death, that I haven't ever really moved on from that state of mind I nurtured when I was eighteen. Because I have had that thought before and hearing Robbie echo it only makes it worse. “Why are you still in my house? Why don't you go home?”

  “Why don't I help you paint instead?” Robbie asks, cradling the book against her chest again. “Or rip up your carpet? I'm good at getting up those pesky tack strips.”

  I drop my shoulders and take another breath. The beast had been praying Robbie would come into my bedroom, lay across my bed and spread her legs for him. Lucas had been rooting for the other side. Not that I don't want to fuck Robbie – my stiff cock certainly tells its own story – but I can't. Not again. Not ever should've been my mantra, but I've already gone and fucked that up.

  “I have a date at six, so I can't stay too long, but it could be fun. You don't get a lot of fun in your life, do you, Luke?”

  “A date?” The words roll from my tongue before I can stop them. Robbie glances away, down the hall, like she's expecting someone to walk in on us at any moment. Audra, maybe? With my anger now in check, I step back into the hallway, startling Robbie out of her search. She snaps her blue eyes to mine.

  “I have a date with a guy from school.” Robbie shrugs like it's inconsequential to her, but I can see the heavy set of her feelings weighing on her shoulders like stone. Is this my fault? Have I poisoned this girl already, to the point where she doesn't even want to go on a date? “We've had these plans for awhile,” she explains, as if I need to know this. The sad part is, I want to know, even though I also have a fucking date for six o'clock. Hmm. How terrible is it that I've gone to wanting to know the whereabouts of a couple of teenagers? “He was in Europe for his great aunt's funeral, but he's back now, so … I guess we're going out.”

  “Try not to sound so enthused,” I spit, moving past her and into the room, kicking an empty cardboard box across the floor with my foot. It hits the bookcase and comes to a stop. “If you're going to paint with me, you'll need to keep your excitement contained.”

  Robbie laughs and shakes her head.

  “See, you do have a sense of humor in there somewhere.” I give her a dry look and then start loading books into the box. I'm not ashamed to see a couple of romance novels in the mix. After all, reading is an escape, a chance to see and do and feel things you never normally would or even could. Love. A couple of times I tried to delve into others' worlds, find the love committed to the pages, and soak it all in, just to remember. But remembrance can be quite painful, and the thoughts still sear my brain. “Where should I put this one?” Robbie asks after a moment. I don't look at her, continuing to fill the box with paperbacks and the occasional hardcover.

  “On my bed,” I say, the thought of Robbie entering my bedroom sending the beast into a frothing fervor. As soon as I hear her footsteps moving away, I reach down and cup my crotch, enjoying the rush of pleasurable sensation down my limbs. I should be sending Robbie away – I know that's the only possible solution for this nightmare I've now created – but I don't. Maybe she is right? Maybe I am still a child who doesn't know any better? A kid cloaked in a man's body, drenched in the blood of a beast. Is there anything scarier than that? Who do you think starts all the world's wars?

  “Okay,” Robbie says, surprising me from my thoughts. My first reaction is anger, but that fades away as soon as her fingers touch my back. I glance over my shoulder from where I've knelt next to the bookcase and catch sight of her shapely calves, her low patent heels. “Where should I start?” Robbie removes her fingers from my shirt and reaches down to slip off her shoes, carrying them to the hallway and dropping them onto the hardwood floor outside the bedroom. “I can start cutting up the carpet if you want. I did it a few years ago when my dad was remodeling the inside of our house. It's more tedious than anything else.” Robbie puts her hands on her lower back and takes a deep breath, the ghost of a smile hovering around her lips. “Do you remember volunteering to help me carry in the new carpet rolls?”

  I say nothing and turn back to the bookshelf.

  The truth is, I do remember. My lip curls as I snatch up a copy of The Iliad and stuff it into the box. The lid goes on and I lift up the entire thing from the floor with a grunt, carrying it into my bedroom and setting it down next to my bed. Aliyah's book sm
iles up at me from a green and gold cover, and my heart skips a beat. Without realizing what I'm doing, I step towards the bed and drop to my knees. My hands grasp the book and drag it towards me until I'm resting my forehead against the cover.

  “Luke?” Robbie asks, her footsteps drifting in my direction. I ignore them until I hear the soft brush of bare feet treading across the threshold of my bedroom. “Are you okay?” A pause filled only with Robbie's soft breathing follows. On the outside, I'm calm, if a little melancholy. On the inside, I'm a raging storm. “I'm sorry,” she says after awhile. “I didn't mean to stir things up.”

  “Things are always stirred up for me, Robbie,” I say. I keep my forehead pressed to the book, like if I sit here long enough, Aliyah will come out of the pages, laughing. “I carry this in the back of my mind all the fucking time.”

  “Maybe that's your problem,” she says, coming in to sit on the bed next to me. The bed. Robbie is on my bed. I don't let women anywhere near my house, let alone my fucking place of rest. But I feel okay. How can I feel threatened by a girl whose energy is the color of sunshine? “There's a time and place for tragedy, and for mourning. After that, it's time to move on because to honor the person you've lost, you just have to. How can you relive their memories if you're not in a happy place?”

  “You're eighteen years old. What do you know about loss?”

  “I know my mom isn't my biological mom. She died when I was eight years old. The woman you see me with is actually my step-mom, even though I don't call her that.”

  I stay silent, staring at my bedspread and listening to Robbie's matter-of-fact words. Whether they're true or not, she believes them, believes she's felt true loss. Who am I to judge anyway? I didn't love my mother enough to care when she passed away. A woman who doesn't protect their child from an aggressive monster like my father isn't worth loving.

  “Was Aliyah your wife?”

  “She would've been,” I say, putting to words a story I haven't spoken of to a single other human being on this planet. “If she hadn't been murdered when we were eighteen.”

  “I'm sorry, Luke.” Robbie scoots closer to me, until her thigh is touching my arm. And then she leans down and gives me an awkward hug. And it feels good. Fucking good. I don't know how to process the emotion, so I pull away and sit on the floor, looking up at Robbie with a blank expression. She smiles at me, even though there are tears in her eyes. Are they for me? But no. I think they're for Aliyah, and that makes getting rid of Robbie an even harder thing for me to do.

  “You should go,” I say again, but the force of the statement just isn't there. I'm sitting on the floor of my bedroom staring at a teenage girl on my bed. What's the matter, Lucas Carter? Have you forgotten who you are, what you do? There are only two options: let the beast have the girl or watch her walk away. There's nothing else for you.

  Robbie starts to speak, to fill the silence with her lilting voice, when another sound breaks through the hallway.

  “Roberta! Roberta, where are you?” It's Robbie's little sister, Tera. What fortunate timing.

  Robbie and I share a look just seconds before Tera bursts in through the door panting. Thank God. I'd forgotten I'd left the front door open. If I had kissed Robbie, if I had … taken things further, what might've happened?

  “I've been looking everywhere for you. Mom wants you to come back to the house and help her with the prep for the block party. We're baking pies!” Robbie smiles at her sister and then looks back down at me. I keep my gaze focused on the child. Her bright blue eyes mirror her sister's, but her hair is blonde and curly, a puffy halo that surrounds her tiny head. I wish I could've had children, but the odds were not in my favor. I dredge up a smile I don't feel and rise to my feet, patting Tera on the head as I pass by.

  “Goodbye, Robbie,” I say, leaving her to head into the spare bedroom. I shut the door behind me and wait until their footsteps disappear, turning my house back into an empty void.

  “You're on time,” I say, opening the door to find Audra Holiday with her arms crossed over her ample chest. “What a surprise.” I step back and welcome her in with an outstretched hand. Audra's punctuality isn't the only surprise however. Instead of her usual cheap polyester hooker outfits, Audra's dressed in a gown made of sheer nude fabric with a golden sheen to it. The long-sleeved cocktail dress is decorated with a floral motif that hides Audra's ample assets with a gentle sophistication that only serves to amplify her rampant sexuality. Down boy, I tell my stiffening cock. I suppose it doesn't really matter though – I'm wearing my best suit, the one I stole from Mr. Braxton. It's still in need of a good tailoring, but the expensive cloth falls in all the right ways, concealing any evidence of my erection with skillful seams and gloriously well-placed pinstripes.

  “Good evening to you, too,” Audra says, brushing past me in a pair of five inch heels, black of course, with flowers that climb her calf in an artful velvet sweep. Her ruby red hair is gathered at the back of her head in a purposefully messy bun, and her makeup … well, that smoky eye she's always sporting actually makes sense for a dinner date. Date. Ugh. This is most certainly not a date, even though I've dressed for it. I am, after all, capable of a certain amount of sophistication myself. No one has ever accused me of being uncouth. “This is beautiful. Is this all for me?” Audra asks, pointing at the table, the crimson tablecloth, the white pillar candles. It's all so mockingly cliché. “Or maybe it's for that girl? Robbie, was it?”

  “Don't you dare speak her name again,” I growl, closing the door softly and flicking the dead bolt. Somehow, I feel guilty for what I'm doing, even though I know I shouldn't. Audra's car is obviously parked in the driveway, and as far as I know, Robbie thinks Audra and I are engaged. Still … I should have told her I had a date for tonight as well. It was the polite thing to do.

  I move past Audra and into the kitchen, retrieving the chilled bottle of wine from the ice bucket and pouring two glasses. To start with, we have a light sparkling wine to go with the hors d'oeuvres. For dinner, I have a bottle of Stags Leap District Cabernet Sauvignon that'll go well with the bacon wrapped filet mignon I know I shouldn't have made but did anyway. This is a meeting that was pushed upon me, not one that I planned. However, as the afternoon wore on and the clock ticked closer to six, I threw down the paintbrush and showered quickly, changing into my suit without a second's hesitation. Somehow, the idea of a date infatuated me. I haven't been on a date since Isadora left me, and before her, it was Aliyah that graced the opposite end of the table.

  Audra Holiday is certainly no Aliyah, but then, she's a massive improvement over Isadora who couldn't even handle the sight of the beast's fangs, let alone his bite.

  “Why not? It's a free country, isn't it?” Audra takes the glass from me with a nod of her chin and sips gently, her long fingers curled around the steam of the wineglass. In the background, I have some rock music playing on a low volume. I decided the wine, the steak, the candles, were enough of a romantic cliché that we didn't need classical music or jazz in the background.

  “Robbie's not your business or your concern.”

  “Are you seeing her or something because you seem a tad bit overprotective?” Audra pinches at the air with her fingers and squints at me. I ignore the question and take a sip of my own wine. I still have no couch, so there aren't many places for us to sit besides the dinner table. “Okay, then,” Audra breathes, moving past me and opening my back door without asking permission. Before I know it, she's seated herself in one of my four lawn chairs, one of the ones that never gets used. Of the four I have placed around the fire pit, there's only one that's ever been sat in.

  I know that arguing with this woman is as dangerous as sticking my hand into a pit of vipers and while I'm willing to go there if need be, I don't want to make a scene outside. My neighbors have had enough to deal with between the Mrs. Braxton situation and my sudden slew of visitors.

  “Why are you here, Audra Holiday?” I ask, setting my glass down on a distressed wh
ite metal table. The scenery in my backyard is just as perfect, as picturesque, as my front yard. It has to be. It's all part of my sense of balance.

  “I told you,” she says, her voice echoing behind me as I return to the kitchen and retrieve a lighter, “I have a proposition for you.” I head back down the steps to the backyard and light the tiki torches that are spaced around the chairs. If there's one thing I despise, it's mosquitoes.

  “A proposition I'm certain I'll have no interest in,” I reply dryly, switching out the lighter for my wine glass. I sit next to Audra, surprisingly glad that Robbie Carrell is out on a date and not around to listen to our conversation. “But since you're here, and I've already gone to the trouble of preparing the meal, you might as well tell me.”

  “You are such a fucking asshole,” Audra says with a sigh, leaning back in the chair and crossing her legs at the knee. A smile lingers around her red rouged lips as she tilts her head to look at me. “But I like you anyway.” I like you. The words make me shiver, disarming me and leaving me helpless. Well, as helpless as my darkness will allow me to get. Admittedly, that's still fairly fucking dangerous, but Audra doesn't need to know that. Unfortunately, the perceptive little bitch can tell she's hit a nerve and swoops in like a bird of prey. “Train me, Lucas,” she whispers, leaning close. Her breath smells like mint and wine, and my heart picks up speed, sending my pulse skyrocketing. “I want to trip the darkness with you.”

  “No.” I make sure the word comes out as strong as possible, slipping past my numb lips and into the warm evening air. I like you. Fuck. I force the words from my brain with a quick shake of my head that Audra watches with interest. “Absolutely not.”

  “I can do girls or guys, whatever. We could expand your business.”

  “Business is plenty good as it is.” My mouth twitches. “And I have absolutely zero interest in men.” Audra rolls her eyes and tips her glass back, finishing off the wine.