by Ana Calin
He continued with the calm of an iceberg, but by now, I knew better. “I scratched his face with the wire scrub. He hit me, hard, and I fell flat on my stomach. But that was the lucky turn. There were tools on the floor, which I used for the more stubborn places where the rust was too thick. A screwdriver lay right in front of me as I came to myself after the blow, and felt him pulling at my pants.”
I bit my lip to keep from cursing. This was too much. My heart ached, but I kept my ground.
“I rolled on my back and pierced his guts,” Damian stated. “I went so deep that I touched his insides with my fingers. And I stabbed him again and again, even when he was already dead, blood gurgling out of his mouth, and his eyes still open. Twenty-seven times, that’s the number. Yeah, that’s the number.” He stared, lost, into the flames.
My pulse was wild in my temples.
“I kept my mouth shut and just enjoyed the memory for a while,” he said, seemingly immersed in it. “I replayed the scene in my head at night like a good-night fairytale. I didn’t feel any guiltier than I had for having battered my father. It was strange, though, the priest at the village church had professed that taking a life should trigger awful feelings. But to me it felt good, it felt right.”
His low, sinking voice made the hairs stand on my arms.
“They found him weeks later, his body rotting in the summer heat with his stomach open. His guts were caked with worms, and rats nibbled on his eyeballs. It was an old ship he’d sent me to, you see, one that hissed in the sun like the cauldrons of hell, a place where no one could hear me if I called for help. That’s why it took so long to discover him.”
He paused again, still as a statue. Long moments passed, only the fire rustling in the silence, the heat dancing on my cheek.
“Have you ever talked about this before?” I dared.
He shook his head slowly. “And I’m not telling you now because I need to talk about it.”
“You’ve made peace with who you are?”
“I was never at war with who I am.”
“Why are you telling me then?”
He gave me a smile so gentle that it threw me off. As if he hadn’t just relished in the memory of his first kill. As if I were a loving pet, the sight of whom softened him into a homey pillow.
“Because I want you to know the truth about my past, from me. Because I need you to trust me.”
His confession hung heavy between us. Suffocating. But I wanted to take it in to the end, all of it. I forced myself to uncross my arms and keep them by my sides, staring him calmly in the face, silently inviting him to continue. I leaned back, supporting my weight on my hands.
“A few days later,” Damian said, “Liviu said he knew I’d done it. I later realized he must’ve been bluffing, but back then I panicked. My first impulse was to run, but he hurried to put things into perspective. He said that if I disappeared now, he’d go to the police, and they’d eventually find me. Out of options, I asked him what choice he was willing to give me.
“He said Suzana would be spending the night with her pimp – a man who beat her while he did her, and she hated his guts. Liviu had propositioned a robbery before, to all of us urchins around, but no one had dared because Suzana’s pimp was notoriously dangerous. He kept weapons in his house, and it was said he didn’t think twice before using them. He was especially keen on blades. He liked cutting living flesh.”
A murderous glint crossed Damian’s eyes as he probably remembered how he’d served the monster his own dish. I held my breath.
“But I couldn’t afford to refuse. It was this or the joint, and from there, I knew I’d be at the mercy of many sleazy bastards. I’d heard stories. I didn’t want to kill Liviu – even though it crossed my mind – because I still felt I owed him. So, again armed with a crowbar, I went to the pimp’s house and broke in through the kitchen.
“I heard sounds of sex coming from upstairs. As instructed by Liviu, I went straight to a vase by the TV set – the guy kept his cash there, and jewelry under a hatch in the floor, right beneath the armchair. After I removed the cash from the vase I put the plastic flowers back in, but hit it with my elbow when I turned. It fell. I crouched down behind the couch and listened to the silence until the bed upstairs began squeaking again and Suzana’s moans resumed, providing back the cover.
“But I was wrong to take it. The guy had ordered her to fake sex, so the burglar would think he hadn’t been heard. So as soon as I’d dragged the armchair aside and bent over the hatch, something hit me hard on the back of my head.”
My cheeks burned, and I couldn’t blame it all on the fire. I kept myself quiet on the outside, but on the inside, my heart whirled.
“Maybe it was the experience from the ship that strengthened me,” Damian went on, “but this time I didn’t lose it. I managed to come back to my feet, and faced the guy – tall, with cold grey eyes. Startled to see him so close, I hit him across the face with the crowbar. The flesh split off his bone, he hit the ground with a thud, and I intended to stop. I truly did, believe me.
“But when I saw the knife that fell from his hand I remembered how much he liked to hurt other creatures. So I hit him again, and his head burst open like a water melon.” A grin curved up Damian’s lips, and a flash of madness crossed his face. “I just stood over him and took in the sight until Suzana came down. I could hear her steps, but I couldn’t take my eyes off his spilled brains.”
“Stop!” I jumped up and walked fast to the window, breathing in deeply. The draught that seeped in had a cooling effect on my burning cheeks, and helped keep down the contents of my stomach.
The floorboards creaked behind me as Damian approached, his hands wrapping around my arms and pulling me against his leather-clad chest. I pressed my lids together.
“Alice, I’m not one to make up excuses, but I didn’t do it out of cruelty. I do repent sometimes.”
That’s not even the point! my inner self screamed. The point is that I would’ve done the same!
“Was there really no other way?” I whispered.
“No. There wasn’t.”
“And Suzana? How did she react when she saw... the mess?”
His arms coiled around me, gluing my back to his chest. “You don’t want to know that.”
I became alert, and my body stiffened. “You said you wanted me to know it all, from you. You said you wanted my trust.”
He took a deep breath, as if giving up. “She wanted sex right there and then.”
My brain caught fire. I barely refrained from turning, and took a break to calm down before I spoke. “And what did you do?”
“I refused, Alice, of course. I may be a monster, but I’m not a psychopath.”
I scrunched my eyebrows, focusing on Damian’s reflection in the glass pane. His features whetted. A big hand sought its way under my sweater and cupped my breast under my bra, making my nipples harden and my heart slam in his palm.
“You’re the first woman I ever wanted, Alice. This is the pure truth. I have this visceral need to be with you, to merge with you. To pour myself into you.” His words faded into a quiet groan, as if he found pleasure in his imagination.
He turned me around and, keeping a warm hand on the small of my back, he popped my jeans buttons open with the other. He slipped it in my undies, his tongue filling my mouth. It went too fast for me to react. His finger slid inside of me, finding me creamed with desire I couldn’t control.
He moved his hand gently and sweetly, making low moans escape from my mouth into his. His lips parted from mine to let him look into my eyes, but I couldn’t hold his gaze. It bored into mine, so intense that I closed my lids tightly, as if that could keep him out of my soul. He made me build up relentlessly, his breathing deepening.
“How I want to be inside of you, Alice,” he muttered. “I want to be in every beat of your heart, in every cell of your flesh, and I want you to love it.” His words, black as tar, flowed like opium through my ears, and clouded my head. My
fingers clawed to the sides of his jacket, my body arching back as I climaxed in his hand.
He leaned after me and took my mouth in a possessive kiss, silencing my moaning. No longer master of my wit or senses, I responded, hands knotting in his raven tresses as he lifted me off the ground and walked with me to the bed. It felt lumpy under my back, like grandma’s old bed on springs, but it smelled of fresh wood and shower gel. It smelled of him.
Damian pulled the sweater over my head and let his lips slide down my neck. He opened my bra with eager fingers, his stubble scraping my breasts as he ravished them, making heat course all through me. Feverish, my hands glided under the sides of his jacket. He let me peel it off him, looking down at me with hungry bright eyes, his face the sculpture of a beautiful barbarian.
Just as hungry for him, I slipped my palms under his sweater, and pushed it up to undress him. He pulled it over his head, and a wall of muscles pressed against my hands as he came back down, his mouth searching mine. He parted my legs with his thighs and rubbed himself on me, his manhood big and hard through the denim.
My own jeans and high-heeled boots still on, I wound my legs around his hips and responded to his moves. We came at the same time, moaning in each other’s mouths, our hips grinding into each other.
Breathing hard after release, Damian buried his face in my hair. The warmth from his body permeated my skin. The emotion flooding me was so strong that I panicked. I was high on Damian Novac’s love. Damian Novac, a killer.
“I need air!” I yelped.
Damian lifted his bulk immediately off me, obviously alarmed. He helped me up and led me to the window, yanking it open. I braced myself against the cold, my lungs filling with stinging, salty air. As my skin cooled, a coherent stream of thought formed.
“This can’t happen again.” My teeth chattered, the cold stabbing me all over.
Damian didn’t speak, but I sensed his stare darken on my head. I braced myself to keep from shaking, and covered my breasts before I continued with a babbling explanation.
“Damian, no matter from what angle we look at it, you’re a killer. And you enjoy it. I understand the circumstances that led you to this, and I wish I could—”
“Cut it short,” Damian interrupted. “Looking for roots and reasons to justify crime is the field of spoiled shrinks. I’m not one to take advantage of that bullshit. I don’t place the blame on society, my father, or even BioDhrome. I take full responsibility for my choices and actions. So don’t give me that I-wish-I-could-save-you-but-have-better-things-to-do shit.”
He turned me around not very gently, a heavy hand pulling my hair. He forced me to look into his eyes.
“Tell me the truth, Alice. I make you sick, don’t I? That’s why you’re trying to end this.”
My tongue went stiff, leaving me unable to reply. His eyes burned madly.
“I had a talent for killing since before BioDhrome, but never for lying,” he said, baring his teeth like an animal. “Yes, I do repent sometimes, but mostly not. I enjoyed spilling those scumbags’ guts and brains. I would’ve killed more like them if I’d stayed, and I would’ve loved it. Yes, loved it. But, suspecting Suzana would snitch to the police because I refused an affair behind Liviu’s back, I ran away just days later, and took the train with the intention of leaving the country.”
His tone of voice turned bitter. “Busy making up ways of passing the border without papers, I didn’t pay attention to the hints that something was terribly wrong – the free lodging they offered at the inn, the bloodshot eyes of my companions, my own touchiness at the slightest provocation. Before dawn, I was standing in a pool of blood with only another guy alive. I still don’t know how many of the corpses piled around go on my bill.”
His eyes roamed all over my face from under furrowed eyebrows. He looked down at my lips then let go of me as if he couldn’t bear the sight. He turned away.
Staring at his broad back as he put distance between us, I realized I hadn’t been entirely fair. I’d seen that picture of his first night at the inn, I knew he’d been a starving boy who’d barely escaped being killed by his own father and raped by a pervert who’d exploited him in child labor. Later, a rotten pimp would’ve cut him open if he hadn’t been able to defend himself. And yet he didn’t even use his past to justify his present. A wave of warmth and love – yes, I knew for a fact, love – washed over me, overwhelming.
I walked after him, my steps firm. He turned to face me before I could touch him.
“How many lives did you take after BioDhrome engineered you into a killer?” I asked softly, hoping to convey that no answer would be inappropriate.
Damian replied without hesitation, almost defiant. “I killed over fifty Upgrades after BioDhrome enhanced the monster inside of me.”
“Never again a human?”
“Never again.”
“So your opponents always had a fair chance?”
“Always.”
I took a step closer, eyes fixed on his while my hand reached for his fly. Surprise flashed in his eyes. My hands knotting with his buttons, I had to rip my gaze from his and look down at what I was doing, shaking, as I opened his belt and his fly. I reached clumsily in his boxers to his manhood that felt big, hard, and gnarled in my hand.
“What are you doing, Alice?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“You’ve had so much pain, Damian, so much pain,” I whispered, lowering to my knees. “I want to give you pleasure, so much pleasure.”
I took his hand in mine and guided it to my head, letting out a soft moan as it clamped into my hair. I opened my mouth to take him in. Wet with seed, he tasted thickly salty and metallic, reaching deep, to my throat, which made me horny as hell.
He was huge and my jaw hurt, but I could use that to advantage. I sheathed my teeth with my lips and sucked with all I had, ignoring the pain, determined to give him such pleasure that it would make him come as hard as a nerd on prom night.
He groaned deeply, his muscles flexing, hand clenched in my hair. I looked up to take in the expression on his face – intense, those green eyes glinting down at me from under knitted eyebrows, straining to hold it while I tightened my mouth on him, hands on his rocky thighs.
And as his seed shot down my throat, viscous and clingy, he growled, “You’ll never be free of me, woman, not until I draw my last breath.”
Spent, he dropped heavily in the armchair behind him and leaned his head back, his broad chest heaving with the remains of pleasure, his hand still fisted loosely in my hair.
I stared at him – a surreally beautiful male with his jeans undone and a mighty shaft, presiding from the spiked, throne-like armchair, while the viscous texture of his seed trickled down my throat. I clambered up onto his lap, his thighs rock-hard under my buttocks and his chest like granite under my cheek. He wrapped his arms around me as I listened to the beat of his heart. I felt as though I was in an armored cocoon.
I dropped all defenses and accepted it once and for all. I loved him, madly, though aware it was wrong – good reasons or not. Damian Novac was a killer. But soon all logic faded in the background, and I let the feeling of love take over me completely. I fell asleep in Damian Novac’s arms, exhausted and happy.
Chapter Five
A foamy waterfall spang out of mossy rock, and raged down a slope. A dream ending with the rustle of curtains being yanked aside, and a glaring light. I shielded my eyes with my hand until they adjusted, which happened too late to make out the figure just closing the doors behind them – someone with light, small steps. Couldn’t be Damian.
I managed to clamber out of bed, wondering when Damian had cradled me to its comfort. And why he wasn’t in it with me. The room was cozily warm and the fireplace vigorous, steam floating in from the adjacent bathroom. Thinking Damian might be in there, I followed the inviting vapors to a hot bathtub with foam and bubbles, a vision of luxury in an antique setting. Thin tears in the varnish spread like cobweb on the porcelain. I took off my jeans and pan
ties, and sank into it, feeling grateful like a homeless child, and hoping Damian would soon be there to join me.
As memories fell into place, I rubbed the sponge on my body harder and harder, thinking of everything Damian had told me last night. My brain was working on full power by the time I wiped the steam off the mirror to a face as pale as the porcelain sink but for the few freckles, blue eyes too big on a thin face, and caramel hair as tangled as Medusa’s.
I grabbed the hairbrush that lay on the wide edge of the sink—my own hairbrush, I noticed, as were the perfume-free creams and face scrubs for sensitive skin lined up neatly beside it. Damian must’ve had them fetched from Mom’s.
I brushed my hair and my teeth before I went back to the room. My eyes darted around for my clothes, trying to avoid looking at the blades on the walls, ruthless reminders of what Damian truly was. A shudder ran through me from head to toes. I had to get out of here.
On the armchair that he’d collapsed into after the lusty blowjob I’d given him last night now stood a pile of neatly folded clothes – again, my own. Top of the pile was a green wool sweater, which, freshly washed, molded the shape of my body. My cell phone lay by a charger on the coffee table. The battery was dead.
I pulled on a pair of jeans and the high-heeled leather boots from yesterday before scurrying to the double doors, eager to close them to the foreboding feeling those blade-cluttered walls gave me. I turned the knobs and stepped into the library.
Daylight poured in through the arched windows, and fell on ceiling-high bookshelves, now revealing them clearly. I stared open-mouthed. Books filled them to outburst. Leather-backed and chipped by time, some of them looked ancient. I could tell by the yellow, crumpled page rims that stood out above the worn covers. They must’ve been either originals or damn good forgeries.
Despite the veritable vintage furniture, thick glass protected the shelves like a modern shield against temperature and humidity. The bookworm in me knew nothing but originals deserved such effort, which made the delight in my chest swell.