His (A Dark Erotic Romance Novel)

by Dark, Aubrey

  “I come bearing good news,” he said, hopping to my side and leaning over the bed. He was—oh God, he was untying me. First my feet, then my wrists. I rolled my wrist, getting the circulation back. He whistled as he undid the last knot. I’d never seen him so… upbeat. I wondered what the news was.

  “Put on a dress for me, will you, kitten? Do this one thing for me today.” He went to the closet and threw down the remaining dresses that he’d brought for me. “Whichever you want.”

  I picked up the first dress I saw and a set of lingerie and stood up.

  “No! Not in the bathroom. Here. Dress in front of me. You know I can’t trust to you do anything without me, kitten.”

  He watched me carefully as I dressed, his eyes touching me everywhere. I still felt dizzy from the wave of anxiety, but as I dressed I felt better. The one I chose was the red sheath, a shorter dress that hit me just above the knee. He looked me up and down appreciatively and then came over to where I stood.

  “Gavriel?”

  He kissed me briefly, like he was kissing his wife hello. I didn’t know if he was pretending to be happy, or if he actually was happy.

  “You look beautiful, dear,” he said. “Sit down. Let me brush your hair.”

  I sat down on the corner of the bed, dazed by his good mood. He retrieved a hairbrush from the bedside drawer and sat behind me. His hands moved through my hair, the brush caressing my scalp gently. There were a lot of knots, but he worked patiently, never yanking the brush. His fingers were long, careful. He would have been a good surgeon, I thought stupidly.

  “There,” he said. “Now let’s go downstairs.”

  He led me down, his hand guiding me on the small of my back. We passed the statue of horses on the stairs; their eyes seemed to watch me as I went down. When I realized we were heading to the kitchen, I started back in panic.

  “It’s alright, kitten,” he said, catching me against his chest. “You’re going to make me something to eat, that’s all. That’s all.”

  I trembled and continued. What else could I do?

  He sat at the kitchen table, where days earlier I had watched him kill and dismember the professor. He gestured toward the fridge.

  “Make us something to eat,” he said.

  I opened the fridge and looked inside. It felt so weird to look at what a serial killer ate. Everything was so… normal. Milk, eggs, orange juice, shredded cheese.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “Are you good at cooking? No, I don’t care. Make us an omelet. You know how to make an omelet, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “There’s ham in the bottom shelf.”

  I took out all of the ingredients and began to do what I had done a million times. Sometimes when I was cooking in someone else’s kitchen, I didn’t know where anything was, but everything in his place was exactly where I would have put it. Bowls in the side cabinet. A pan underneath the counter next to the stove. I greased the pan with butter and turned the stove to hot. He sat there quietly, watching me as I beat the eggs in a large bowl. Then I took out a knife to cut the ham into pieces. As I finished cutting, I looked up at him. He was watching me intently.

  “Did you not want me to use a knife?” I asked.

  He raised his eyebrows in a question.

  “I—it’s a weapon,” I said. “I tried to kill you before.” As I held the knife in my hand, my palm grew sweaty. I thought about the razor and blinked the thought away.

  “Are you going to try to kill me now?” he asked, smiling.

  I shook my head. No, I wasn’t. I was—I didn’t know what I was doing. I put the knife down and sprinkled ham over the cooking eggs in the pan. Added cheese. Flipped the omelet in half, flipped it over to finish cooking.

  “Your parents were on the news today,” Gav said. “The local station.”

  I almost knocked the pan off of the stove.

  “What—what did they—”

  “They thought you had run away again,” he said. “They begged for you to not do anything stupid. To come back home.”

  So nobody was looking for me. Nobody thought I was kidnapped.

  As though reading my mind, Gav spoke again.

  “Your friend thinks otherwise,” he said. “The one with the spiked hair and all the piercings.”

  “Jules,” I murmured. It seemed like so long ago I’d been shelving books alongside her, making jokes about the terrible books people checked out.

  “She’s the only one who thinks you’re kidnapped, though,” he said, shrugging. “Nobody will listen to a girl who looks like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know full well that appearances are all that matter in the world today,” he said. “The eggs are done.”

  So they were. I slid the omelet out onto a plate, cut it in half, made two servings. Gav came around and poured two glasses of orange juice. The silverware clattered onto the table. We sat side by side. I cut my omelet into pieces, holding the knife carefully so that he could see it. He didn’t care, or pretended not to.

  “Delicious. Wonderful meal.” Gav set his knife down onto his plate, crossed over his fork. “What do you want in return?”

  I shook my head.

  “Nothing, yet.”

  “You’re saving up favors?”

  “Maybe.” Truth was, I had no idea what I wanted from him. I wanted… I didn’t know what I wanted.

  “I’ll never let you go. If that’s what you’re waiting for.”

  “What was the good news?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You said there was good news. Was it that my parents aren’t looking for me?”

  “Oh! Oh, no. Although that is good news too. No, I was out looking for the next man to give me some release. A hundred or so miles away from the last victim, so it’s perfect. You know, I don’t normally kill close to home. This last one was an exception. He was special. That was a mistake, I suppose. It’s how you found me, anyway.”

  “You… you’re going to kill someone else?” My mouth dropped open and my fork fell against the plate. I didn’t want to eat the last bite of my omelet.

  “Yes. Tonight, maybe tomorrow. I’ve already laid the groundwork. Finding out his schedule, his routine. They always have a routine. You know.”

  “How—how many people have you killed?”

  “A few. One every few months.”

  “And you get away with it?”

  “They rarely get reported as murders, thank God. Most of them are businessmen who have a thousand other secrets - tax evasion, for one. The police usually think they’re skipping town to avoid the bills from Uncle Sam. Or if they’re in disputes with the local gangs, or if they’re addicted to drugs. Lots of evidence pointing in all directions. Except toward me.”

  “How many?” I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know, but my curiosity got the best of me.

  “Are you going to finish that?” Gav reached over and forked the last piece of my omelet into his mouth. “You know, psychopaths really aren’t that dangerous.”

  “Really.” I frowned. He was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. And he seemed so normal now, in the daylight. It made me feel sick. Sick that I had been falling for him, sick that even now, I didn’t know if I hated him or if I was pretending to hate him.

  “It’s only around three percent of all violent crimes that are committed by psychopaths, you know.” He chewed on one side of his mouth thoughtfully. “The vast majority of murders are done by irate spouses, or gangs, or whatever. Not by people like me.”

  “I’m sure that’s a relief to all the people you kill.”

  “No, I suppose not. But everybody always worries about the psychopaths coming after them, and never about the wife they’re cheating on, or their drug dealers, or their disgruntled employees. It’s just not likely for a serial killer to get you.”

  “You got me.”

  “Not like that, kitten,” Gav said, chuckling.

  “Don’t kill him today.”
/>
  He swallowed. The smile faded from his face.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You asked what I wanted. Another trade, right? I want you to not kill him.”

  “You don’t know this man,” Gav said, his lips pressed together so hard that they were turning white. “He was convicted of spousal abuse two years ago and bought the judge. All he had to do was pay a fine and attend some bullshit counseling sessions. He’s been fucking his intern—”

  “I don’t care,” I said, my voice shaking. “Don’t kill him. Don’t leave me again today. Don’t do it.”

  “Kitten—”

  “You asked what I want. That’s what I want.”

  Anger clouded his face. He stood and picked up my plate, stacked it atop his, and dropped both of them into the sink. My shoulders jerked at the noise.

  “Upstairs.”

  He grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me out of the kitchen. His face was dark, as dark as it had been after I’d tried to kill him with the razor. He pulled me back up the stairs and into the bedroom. My heart was racing. What had I done?

  “Lay down.”

  I sat on the bed, but I wasn’t quick enough. He shoved me down and looped the rope around my wrists.

  “Gav, you promised—”

  “You’re hurting me with this.”

  “But you promised—”

  “For today. Yes. I won’t kill him today. There’s your trade.” He spat the words bitterly as he tied my ankles roughly, not caring how tight they were.

  “Where are you going?”

  “What does it matter to you?”

  “Don’t lie to me.” I thought of my parents, about them asking me to come home. I didn’t have a home. I never had a home, not with them, not with anybody. And not here.

  “I’ll be back soon,” he said.

  “Gav, don’t kill him! Don’t kill anyone, don’t—”

  But he was already gone.

  Gav

  The shadow taunted me. I could go anyway, lie to her and go for the kill. It was a man who deserved to die, and I did not deserve to be like this. The shadow clouded all of my vision as I banged down the stairs, got the ax out from the hallway closet. I slammed the door shut behind me.

  In the forest, the birds stopped chirping as I walked into the clearing. I dragged a small fallen tree over to the chopping block, hacked it into logs. Put the first log up onto the block.

  “Trade. This isn’t a trade.”

  My arms swung the ax. The blade arced up and then down, splintering the log into two pieces. The noise shattered the silence of the forest and I heard the birds flying off their perches. I replaced the log and swung again.

  “This is revenge. This is her teasing me. Stupid. I could kill her if I wanted to.”

  I could pretend that my anger was due to injustice. That I wanted to kill this man to save the people around him. But there was no saving anyone in this world, and all I wanted was for the damn shadow to go away.

  Splinters rained down. Like bones splintering. I imagined my next victim on the chopping block, pleading for his life. Rage boiled up inside of me and I raised the ax, brought it down with such force that it stuck in the block. I put my foot up against the log and rocked the handle until the ax came loose again.

  The logs went quickly. I chopped and chopped until the muscles in my arms ached and there was nothing left to split. The world was almost completely black, the shadow taking me over with a desire for relief. Cutting wood was no solution. I gathered the chopped logs in my arms, piled them up near the house in a dozen trips. Overloading myself each time. I could feel my back already beginning to hurt from the weight of carrying so much. Good. The pain would drive the shadow back, maybe. Give me something else to focus on.

  Back in the house, up the stairs. In bed I found her tied up, her neck pale and tempting. The walls dripped with shadow and I clenched my fists, trying not to kill her.

  She looked terrified as I came forward, stripping off my shirt. This was her choice, her decision.

  “Gavriel?”

  Her voice echoed in my brain, pinging back and forth inside. Was that who I was? A killer? A psychopath? What did she want to make of me? I bent my head to hers and saw my reflection in her eyes. A murderer, yes. Not today, though.

  “You wanted me before, kitten. I hope you want me now.” My hands went to my pants, where I was already hard. Wanting her. Needing her. If I couldn’t have the release I sorely needed, I would have to distract myself elsewhere.

  “Gav—”

  “You don’t want me to kill him?” I hissed. “Fine. But I’m going to do whatever I want to you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Kat

  “This is your choice,” he said, dropping his underwear on the ground next to the bed. “You understand the decision you’ve made?”

  I looked up at him. He scowled down at me, looking angry for disrupting for his plan. And looking… scared?

  “Gav—”

  “Tell me to go and I’ll go. Anytime. Understand?”

  I nodded mutely. He stood at the bedside, his cock twitching, half-erect. I hadn’t seen him in full light before, but looking at him now I wondered if I would be able to take him inside of me. He was huge. I felt something inside me twist in painful desire.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  I swallowed, knowing everything he was asking. Knowing what he really wanted. I couldn’t give it to him, but I could give something else.

  “I want you,” I said.

  It was coercion, I told myself. It was all a lie, all of this.

  But it was none of that, not really. I hated the man he wanted to kill, hated that man more than I hated my kidnapper. In my mind, the face of the man he had gone to kill was my stepfather’s face. I knew what those men were like. I hated them.

  Was I saving that man, an abuser? Or was I doing this to satisfy myself? Or both?

  Gav was rougher this time. He did not waste a second on foreplay. Instead he swung a leg over me and straddled my chest.

  Oh god. Oh god.

  His cock hung in front of me. Long, thick, the skin smooth. The foreskin was already pulled back by the tension of his erection, exposing the pink mushroom tip.

  “Tell me, kitten, have you ever been in this position before?”

  “No,” I said honestly. The few guys I’d ever been with had been younger. All they knew was missionary position, and the only blow jobs I’d given had happened on couches, in dorm rooms, after parties where I’d had enough beer to dull my senses. I barely remembered what I’d done to get them off.

  I breathed in, trying to slow down my pounding heart. What if he didn’t like what I did? Would he hurt me?

  He pulled a pillow down and lifted my head to sneak it under me. All the while, I couldn’t take my eyes off of his cock. It twitched with his heartbeat at random times, and when he reached for the pillow it swung up, grazing my cheek.

  “If you try anything to hurt me, I’ll kill you,” he said. “I’m being nice, kitten. I could just leave you here and go get my release elsewhere.”

  “No,” I whispered, thinking of the man on the table, the knife dripping with blood. “Don’t. Please don’t.”

  “Then make me want to stay here with you.”

  With that, he cupped his hand around the back of my head and lifted me slightly. He slid his cock into my mouth and I panicked. Gagging, I coughed and jerked my head back. I looked up, worried, but he was smiling.

  “Relax your tongue, kitten,” he said.

  I did what he said, and when he put his cock into my mouth again it slid in smoothly. As he thrust farther in, the tip of his cock hit the back of my throat. My eyes watered but I kept my tongue down.

  “Ohhh,” he moaned.

  I might have thought that he was faking, but his cock, already stiff, hardened and grew in my mouth. He slid himself out, and I let my lips cover his head as he rocked out of me just barely, then rocked back in.

  The
hand that he used to steady the back of my head spread out, his fingers twining through my hair. It felt like when he was giving me a shampoo, a gentle caress completely at odds with the hard cock that slid forward and filled my mouth. I whimpered when he thrust too far, and he grinned as he pulled out.

  He took his cock in his hand and let the tip touch my lips, the sticky precum mixing with the saliva on my already moistened lips. I breathed in and could feel him tense as the cool air moved over his cock.

  “Easy, now. You’re doing so well. Suck the tip, kitten.”

  I accepted his cock eagerly, knowing now that I wouldn’t be gagged. I closed my eyes and moved my tongue in circles over his smooth skin. Trying to remember all of the tips I’d read in my sister’s dumb Cosmo magazines. Flick the tongue against the tip. Make a seal with your lips around the whole head and suck. Breathe through your nose. My tongue was starting to hurt.

  “Kitten.”

  I opened my eyes and looked up to see him frowning at me. My heart sank.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I—I’m trying…”

  “Pretend that it’s me licking you,” he said sternly. “What do you want me to do to you?”

  Everything. The word died in my mouth. Instead of letting me talk, he slid his cock back into my mouth.

  Yes. What he would do to me. I closed my eyes again, thinking of how he’d teased me. How he’d tormented me. I let my tongue slide out, exploring the circumference of his thick cock. When I touched the bottom of his head with the tip of my tongue, I felt him tense up and gasp above me.

  There. I pressed my tongue to the base of his head. There was a ridge, bumped underneath, and I slid my mouth down to that place, sucking hard, letting my tongue flick out again and again. I traced the ridge, following it in a circle. Letting it take me wherever it wanted to go. Soft kisses on the fleshy part of the tip, breaths to cool him down, then back to kissing.

  I wanted him so badly now. Thinking about his tongue down between my thighs, doing what I was doing, I twisted with desire. My body was already hot under the dress, and I wondered if he would take it off when I was done, if he would take me. I sucked harder, the way I imagined he would, and it made him groan above me.