Today is a very important day.
Today is the day of reckoning.
Today questions will be answered and destinies will be made.
Today marks our sixth week from the day she handed me her life.
It also represents the first day of the rest of her life.
“Open your eyes and look into mine, mouse.” Her eyelashes flutter open before her dark chocolate eyes look up at me and I find myself grasping for the right words to explain to her what lies ahead. “Today after your jaw is unwired , I advise you to use the day to contemplate the truths you will reveal tonight at dinner. I also suggest using a fair amount of time practicing your speech. I expect to hear the melody of your voice clearly this evening am I understood?” I stand to my full stature, towering over her and as I button my suit jacket with a sardonic smile I continue, “You’ve known this day was coming for weeks, mouse. Use this day to prepare yourself for the next phase of your life. Tonight is your moment to shine, do not disappoint me. You and your actions hold the power of your life or death.”
I know, especially from your standpoint, at this part of the story it seems I want her to fail. Don’t get me wrong, the evil in me savors the thought of her failing yet another part of me, one I don’t recognize outweighs the evil and wants her to succeed.
I want her, wholly, irrevocably, and entirely, I want every piece of her.
Not for weeks, not for months, but forever. I want her to belong to me and me alone, for the rest of my mortality.
So much so, that when she smiles at me, my airless lungs constrict around something in my chest. It can’t be my heart. It’s something else that isn’t in the medical books. I know this because I was born without a heart.
The organ beating at a regular pace within my chest cavity has never, and will never feel a single inkling of sympathy, empathy, hope, much less love and appreciation.
Clinic was hell today. My job is usually 99.9% eye rolling easy, however today instead of delivery after delivery of crying bundles of joy, I was met with chaos, emergency surgeries, and death.
So, today when I say I’m pissed, it is a horrid understatement.
After I spend forty-five minutes under the hot water of muscle pelting showerheads, I wrap a towel around my waist, and walk into my dressing room. I pull on a pair of dark gray dress slacks and a black V-neck snug fitting t-shirt that allows the tattoo covering my right arm to show and just the top of the wing shaped armor to peek out on the back of my neck.
The closer I physically get to the dining hall, the faster electricity hums through my veins. I pause a brief moment outside the doors, and breathe in a deep breath as I prepare myself for anything, everything, and nothing all at once. After calmness ebbs the electricity humming and zipping through my veins, I pull back my shoulders and stand to my full stature sliding my hands into the pockets of my slacks and calmly walk through the doors.
The sight of Heather’s perfect smile, her shimmering blonde hair flowing over her shoulders contrasts beautifully against the red chiffon gown I chose for her this morning and whatever the words were on the tip of my tongue a moment ago are lost as I gaze at this visage of beauty before me.
The sound of her voice affects me on a fundamental level.
“Hello, Roman.” Her voice is pure erotica and the huskiness from lack of use causes my cock to harden in response. When she’s within reach a carnal basic instinct awakes inside me instantly.
I jerk her towards the middle of the long dining table with one arm and in one swift movement my other arm swipes across the dining room table sending everything in my path crashing to the floor. Without thought I grasp her hips and twist her around, slamming her onto the emptied space. My eyes are locked on hers and a growl tears from my throat as both hands slide up her outer calves pushing the silky chiffon up her smooth legs. My hands continue to slide up, alternately gripping her taut flesh harshly causing her to cry out and wince in pain.
I grip the back of her knees and wrench her thighs apart before shoving my hips between them, pushing my growing erection against her core. I rub both hands roughly up her body, squeezing hard enough to bruise the flesh of her hips and ass. I bend my body over hers and sink my teeth into her satin covered breast sucking it through the material. Her back arches off the table and she moans as my hands slide from her ass to the curve of her hips and up the skin covering her ribs until my hands are cupping her heavy breasts for a brief moment before shoving the material of her gown over her head.
As the dress whispers to the floor, I lean back and allow myself a moment to feast on the supple taut skin covering her neck, breasts, and flat abdomen. My eyes settle on her bare pussy and a sinister smirk replaces the scowl on my face. I run my eyes back up her body until they meet hers and I demand to know, “How long, mouse? How long have you wanted this? Needed me? How long?”
Her husky words have more blood rushing to my aching cock. “From the first moment I saw you. From the very beginning Roman.”
I brush my hands across the pale flesh of her abdomen to roughly squeeze her breasts and pinch her hardened nipples. I bite down on the inside of my cheeks to hold back a groan. “From the beginning?” I ask in a guttural voice maintaining eye contact with her.
“From the beginning.” She moans.
As my right hand finds her carotid artery on either side of her neck and squeezes I shove my other hand between her legs and brutally rub the wet flesh back and forth. Her hips undulate as I slide my finger knuckle deep and curl it around to find the spot I manipulate so well.
“Oh God, Roman.” She moans.
“And this pussy? Tell me how long this tight little pussy wanted me, Heather.” I slide my finger out before slipping a second one in so deep my fingertip is met with a resistance I very rarely feel and I still my ministrations before leaning over her writhing body to put us face to face. With one hand around her throat the other starts finger fucking her again as I growl the words, “This tight little pussy is mine isn’t it, mouse? You saved yourself for me. You want to bless me by covering my cock in the blood of your pureness?”
“Please, Roman.” Her eyes stare into mine while my fingers delve deeper into her pussy and my thumb circles her clit faster.
“You want to be my little slut, Heather? Mine and mine alone, don’t you?” My fingers tighten around her throat and I jerk her head back and forth in a nod causing her to whimper.
“It’s always been you, Roman. Every part of me has always been yours—”
Before she’s able to finish speaking the weight of my belt sends my unbuttoned slacks to the floor with a thud and I slam my cock to the hilt inside the tightest pussy I’ve ever felt. The demon inside me roars in long awaited victory as her scream pierces the air. My head falls back as I ram into her over and over; a guttural grunt is released from my throat with every thrust.
I feel my balls tighten as her wetness runs down my thighs and reach my hand between us to rub my fingers over her clit, slipping over her wet cunt. A growl rumbles from deep within my chest as I fill her full of my thick , hot cum while running my hands up her body to circle her neck and tighten my hold, using it as leverage to drive my cock harder and faster into her ho , t tight cunt. The euphoria I feel running through me causes a smile to spread across my face as the last spurts of my cum empty inside her. I gather my thoughts as I stare up at the ceiling and pull a few deep breaths into my lungs before sliding my gaze down to her splayed, limp body lying across the dining room table. The sight alone of her alabaster skin covered in blood cracks something inside me. My eyes linger to watch in disturbed fascination as Heather’s blood drips from her neck. When my gaze lowers , it traces the bloody path made by my hands sliding up her body from her cunt to her neck.
Something shifts inside me when I look down to where we’re still connected and see my bloody cock remains balls deep inside her blood weeping cunt.
It’s within this pivotal moment I realize, unlike the other women, the sight of Hea
ther’s skin smeared and sullied in blood abrades against my nerves as I feel a sense of dread settle in the pit of my stomach for the first time in my life.
Chapter 11
I am not expecting what I see as I stride into the dining room.
My eyes land on a bloody, sobbing Mac strewn across the dining hall table and process the sight but when my mind registers what I’m staring at, my knees almost buckle beneath my weight. Rage. I feel rage surge within me at the sight of Roman standing over her with blood covering his hands as more blood runs down the front of his thighs from where his cock is still buried inside her.
I barely cover my mouth in time to muffle the sound of my gags before spinning around, fleeing from the images seared into my brain. I slam though the double front doors and stumble down the cobble stone steps landing on my hands and knees in the grass before losing the contents of my stomach. I don’t know how long I retch and gag , but once I’m able to breathe again, I roll onto my back and stare at the starless, cloudy night sky while tears seep into my hair behind my ears. I pray, although I already know, what I just saw was not the end result of Mac losing her virginity.
Heather is different from the other twelve. She does not deserve to be met with the same fate they did at his hands. I’ll kill him if he snuffs out her life and I will make damn sure it is slow and painful.
I lie in the grass and continue staring at the cloudy sky and I pray for her. I pray she is delivered from Roman’s evil affliction. I pray until the house settles and goes dark.
Chapter 12
Pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt stabs through me from between my legs to my battered womb as Roman’s hot cum bathes my insides mimicking salt being ground into a fresh wound.
Tears slip from my eyes and slide down the sides of my face to run along my scalp as sobs are wrenched from my throat while Roman simply stares down at my battered and bloody abused body.
Why did I let myself think even for a moment this man wasn’t the monster everyone says he is? And what gave me the idea I was different…that I was the one who could save him?
Roman will break me.
He will let me down.
He will make me hurt.
Roman will make me bleed, over and over until I am no longer able to keep him amused or entertained.
Looking up at him through my tear blurred vision as his flaccid cock slips from me I watch as concern flashes across his facial features.
However it’s the look of disbelief that cripples any hatred I felt for him only moments ago when I see how starkly it contrasts against his beautiful evilness.
“It wasn’t… the wetness, you weren’t soaking me in your cum, it was your blood. “ His crystalline blue eyes clash with mine, “I couldn’t feel the difference between the slick wetness of cum and tacky stickiness of blood.”
My hands run over his arms and shoulders, brushing over the tattoo ink staining his skin and nervously whisper, “Roman, can you and I have a conversation. Please?”
He nods before handing me a linen napkin. After I’ve somewhat cleaned myself up I slip my dress over my head and remain sitting on top of the table, afraid of the pain moving may cause.
I admire Roman’s magnificent naked form as he moves with the lithe grace of a big cat to the opposite end of the long dark dining table. I can’t take my eyes off his olive complected skin moving like satin over his sinewy muscles if I wanted to. By the time he takes his place at the head of the table I’m almost mesmerized. Still perched on my spot, I silently wait for his cue for me to begin. Anxiety is coursing through my veins making my body tremble and confusion trips my thoughts, jumbling them all together making it impossible to discern if I’m terrified or fascinated by Roman. Before I’m able to study that thought too closely I realize he’s watching me over his steepled fingers and waiting for me to begin.
My heart practically leaps from my chest when his stern voice barks, “Begin!”
I flinch and have to swallow three times before I can speak.
“My name is Heather Mackenzie. My friends and family call me Mac. I… I-I I’m a detective for the Washington State police. My father was Heath Mackenzie, the detective assigned to build a case against you for your involvement with eleven missing women. My father spent the last months of his life investigating you, Roman. He was convinced you were directly responsible for not only Ms. Robbins death but eleven other young woman as far back as the disappearance of Brittany Sloan. My father died of a heart attack eight months after Ms. Robbins suicide and was never able to find any more evidence against you besides Amanda’s suicide note and eleven pictures he received of you with each of the eleven women around the time they went missing. After his death two years ago I stepped in and took over his investigation. And now, I guess I’m just lucky number thirteen.”
After I’ve finished speaking that I notice Andrew must have come in and served our dinner while my eyes were glued to Roman’s and my mind was lost in my past.
Roman wipes his mouth with his linen napkin then looks down the expanse of the table to where I sit and chuckles.
“Ahh Little mouse, I will enjoy demonstrating just how lucky the number thirteen truly is.”
I feel a blush creep up my face and instantly look down to my fidgeting hands before asking in a shaky voice, “So… the twelve? How many did you directly kill Roman?”
“You are as captivating, little mouse as you are beautiful. I can’t help but continue being intrigued by you. As for the ‘twelve’, they are no longer your concern as you will not be resuming your former occupation. Count yourself among the fortunate, Heather because for the first time ever, I find myself conflicted. You have piqued my interest and I can’t determine if it’s you, your pureness, or some other thing I have yet to identify. I want to keep you, my little mouse. You possess something the other women lacked; however I have concerns I may find myself swept away in the moment and in the end you’ll meet the same fate as the others “
I attempt to gain information, treading very carefully as I am acutely aware of Roman’s volatility, “The others,” I hesitate, “What happened to them, was it their fault for not keeping your attention, or was their fate caused by your decision to end it?”
He shoots to his feet as he grabs his plate hurtling it directly towards my head. I jerk just enough to the right sending it to shatter against the wall behind me.
His voice thunders, “The “twelve” DO NOT concern you, goddamn it!” He stalks over to where I remain trembling on the table and towers over me, putting his face close enough to growl the words into my ear, “Ask about them one more time Heather! One more fucking time and this…this little experiment ends. Is that what you want? Do you want your life to end by my hands, under my control and at your fault?”
I adamantly shake my head and whimper, “No.”
“Then don’t fuck up.” The calmness in his voice is more intimidating than his shouting.
Without speaking another word he spins towards the door with an air of royalty and strides from the room still completely undressed and smeared in blood.
Roman Payne keeps me secluded in my gilded cage refusing my pleas to feel the sun on my face or breathe in fresh air for months.
At least by what I’m able to discern from counting how many times the sun rises and sets.
After he left me alone in the dining hall I remained unable to move. Even my eyes stayed on the doorway Roman walked out of until Dolores came in and helped me from the table to the steaming bath I assume she made before coming to get me. I’m not sure how I’ve remained alive as long as I have given the number of times my smart mouth and attitude has resulted in the punishment Roman promised. I do know the only reason my sanity remains is because of one reason and one reason alone…The twenty minute weekly phone call Roman allows me with my brothers.
The initial phone conversation answered the questions I’d been afraid to ask Roman. They were not frantic at my disappearance, Roman had seen to that and my heart co
nstricts when I hear all three of my brothers voices telling me excitedly how happy they were of me for taking a leave of absence and finally getting away from all the negative that had been eating away at me since our father’s death. It is impossible to hold back the tears as I pretend I’m learning of our uncles disappearance for the first time. The oldest two gave up hope of ever finding him after two weeks, but not Bobby, he remains adamant that Jay is alive and will be found soon. My weekly phone call with them, hearing their voices, becomes like food to a starving man. I listen voraciously as they regale me with the details of their lives. Some weeks the conversations feel like physical blows to my chest when I realize how much of my brothers lives I’m missing out on as they tell me about the lives they continue living outside my prison. Two of them found love and Cody had finally asked his girlfriend of three years, Jennifer to marry him. It’s bitter sweet when I hear my oldest brother is starting a family of his own. During every conversation I sit under Roman’s glare from his seat on the high winged back chair in front of me where he sits unmoving without speaking a word.
With each call my irritation grows and my usual calmness and obedience dwindles as I begin to become irrationally furious at the circumstances I’ve allowed myself to become accustomed to leading me to become combative.
I know he could end my life at any moment with a snap of his fingers; the problem is I feel myself beginning to no longer care.
Any optimism I may have had prior to falling under Roman’s rule, slipped away like the sands of my time.
Roman, perceptive as always, immediately felt the tension as I hung up the phone after I learned of Cody’s engagement. I was powerless in that moment to smother the fury boiling beneath the surface and when Roman spoke, I snapped, lashing out verbally and physically. There were no thoughts, just actions. Yelling some insane remark before my hand struck his face.
He’s six foot six and outweighs me by a hundred pounds making it very easy to drag me down the stone hallways and up the stairs by my hair to my room. Once he stripped me of my clothing and tethered me tightly to the bed spread eagle he mercilessly rammed his massive cock inside my dry core.
Roman: Book 1 Page 6