by Rue Volley
I grinned at his sounds of disgust, my teeth stained with blood. I had to look insane, bruised and covered in blood. For my troubles, I earned another brass knuckle kiss, and this time, I was so close to turning. So deliciously close.
"I am not going to ask you again, you fucking cunt. Where the fuck is my wife?" He growled, closing the distance between us. I could smell his rage, his need for complete control and his fear. His wife, Daphne was this sexy little thing that wanted nothing more than to leave his abusive ass in the dust. He would have eventually killed her if she hadn't hired me to make her disappear. That is what I do. I am tracker, I find the ones no one else can and I hide the ones that will pay the price.
"Oh, I fucked her, Danny. I ate that pussy until she was screaming my name. I ate her until she forgot that she ever wanted dick before my mouth. I gave her more orgasms in an hour than you have in your ten years of marriage." That was it. I knew I could make him snap with the sex talk. Truth was Daphne was so desperate for freedom, she would have done anything I asked of her, but she was a fun piece of ass. Her fear and pleasure tasted like apples and cotton candy.
With a brutal backhand, I couldn't stop the change this time. It took me over like a tidal wave, the beast within me clamoring to get out. A side effect from being restrained mixed with pain.
"The safe word is candy, kind of like the way your wife tasted." I whispered, making sure I kept my head down. No need to tip him off at the monster that was about to be his demise. A look of pure amusement flashed across his sweaty face.
"Bitch, this isn't foreplay. I am going to tear you apart for touching what is mine!" Another smack. More pain, blood and there was no turning back now. Finally, I met his gaze so he could see my changing eyes, my Skleros' nature taking over. With a quick flip of my wrist, I snapped the handcuffs as easily as if they were made of plastic not metal. The first hit of his fear slammed into me like a shot of heroin. It was addictive and provocative. And I fucking lived for it.
"What the fuck are you?" He squeaked out before trying to make a run for the door, but I struck true, throwing him so hard against the wall that I heard bones break. He tried to fight back, I'll give him that, but I am not human and he was dead the moment he decided to touch me. No one touched me unless they were trying to get me off and even then it was still a gamble.
Pulling his head back so he could get a good look at what I really was, the bruising and cuts from his beating had already healed. But it wasn't that impossibility though that made the man piss himself, it was my eyes. Void of all color. Nothing but blackness, dark as pitch; a fathomless abyss... I smiled and I am sure it was the most terrifying thing he had ever seen.
"The safe word was for you, not me." I whispered, tightening my grip on his hair.
"Please..." he begged; a broken pile of terror, blood and piss. I devoured that fear before I ripped his head completely off, blood spraying over me and the walls.
Fuck, I loved my job.
Ain't that some shit...
"Adelpha, you have to take this job." The irritated, shrill voice of my contact person squeaked over the line. I was seriously close to firing her and relocating again. Really fucking close.
Sandi wasn't a bad sort. Out of the thirty or so check-pointers all over the world that I worked with, I hated her the least. That was saying something.
"Oh, Sands, you know I don't take orders very well. The last guy to demand something of me lost his head, literally." I chuckled, sipping my cup of espresso. She huffed and I could just see her scowl.
"And Ady, I don't take to threats very well, so try that shit on someone who is actually afraid of you."
I snorted. Cocky bitch, I will give her that. I sighed as if I was conceding to her demands when in actuality I would have done it. What else was I going to do? My existence consisted of tracking, fucking and killing prey ...usually in that order.
"You only say that because you are thousands of miles away from me. So what's so damn special about this case?" I asked as I watched the people move about the busiest part Manhattan. The tiny café I sat at was crowded to a level that was extremely uncomfortable, but the people seem to avoid me. On some deep level, they sensed the wrongness in me. And it was just as well. I hated the fucking things.
"It's not the case. It's the last known place the birdy was spotted." Her voice had taken on the excitement of a child and my patience was growing thin.
"Which was? C'mon, Sands, I don't have time for this shit. Spit it out if you want me to take it."
"Barbados." My heart fluttered for a moment and my sharp intake of breath was enough to let her know she had my attention. My last memory of Barbados wasn't a good one and the thought of returning to the Island made my emotions chaotic.
"Barbados?" I whispered and she made a sound of agreement as if she didn't just drop a bomb on me. She knew it too. She knew enough of my history to know that I wouldn't willingly go back there without good reason.
"St. Lucy Parish to be exact. The birdy is a thirty-three year old Russian, Luca Pokrovsky. He owns two high-end hotel chains in Moscow and he has clearly pissed off the wrong people. The client is willing to pay 60K for him, dead or alive."
"Where in St. Luce was he last spotted?" I asked, not liking where this was going.
"Near the cemetery oddly enough."
"Luca Pokrovsky." I let the name linger on my tongue, trying to get a taste for the Ruski. I could feel Sandi's anticipation. She wanted that money. As my main checkpoint, she got 15% of the fee. That is 9K for just this one job. It was a pretty penny. I sighed and she let out a triumphant whoop.
"I'll book you on the first flight out tonight." She muttered before hanging up on me. I started down at my phone for a long moment before cursing, "Ain't that some shit?"
Ghosts and shots of Tequila...
I boarded the huge aircraft with a nervousness that I wasn't accustom to. It made me feel filmy and dirty. My last memories of the Island changed me on a cellular level. A brief flash of his hands on me and the blood. There was so much blood...
Shaking the memory from me, I closed my eyes as we took off into the night and it took all I had in me to not think this was the beginning of the end.
"Miss? We are here. We will be exiting the plane in just a moment." Jerking awake, I noticed a pleasant Thai woman in the isle preparing passengers for landing. Her soft brown eyes and full curves made me hunger for more than food.
"Will you be staying in Barbados?" I asked, my tone taking on a seductive edge. She shook her head and blushed, hurrying to the next section of the plane. She spared me another glance when further up the isle and I winked at her. Such a shame I was here on business. I always had a taste for the exotic.
We landed without event at Grantley Adams International Airport and I sprinted to luggage claim. I wanted to get this over with and get the fuck back to the States. This place haunted me and to someone who is used to being the scariest fucking thing out there, that should tell you something of the monsters that lurk here.
* * *
"Here kitty, kitty..." His taunting voice came across exotic, sinful, but deadly and only I knew the truth of what he was. His lure would fall on deaf ears with me. Closing my eyes tight, I cowered in that cupboard, scarcely breathing...
"You can't hide from me, pet. You invited me in..."
* * *
The backfiring of a car brought me back to the present. The smell of the sea and something tropical hit my lungs and even though it was easily 90°F, I felt a chill. Shaking it off, I made my way to pick up my rental car. I had to fly into Seawell, Christ Church so I had to drive into Speightstown, the closest city to St. Lucy. It wasn't too far of a drive and it gave me time to think about my approach to this job.
The information Sandi emailed me was vague at best. He was a successful Entrepreneur, owning two hotel chains before he turned thirty. No wife, no children. Born in Moscow to a middle class family, Luca Pokrovsky was as average as they come. Nothing overtly special a
bout the man besides his successful business investments but that wasn't anything extraordinary. Now the small photo she attached to the file was another story entirely. He was fiercely attractive with his dark hair and strong Russian features. In the photo he appear to have just been out jogging, sweat clung to his shaggy brown hair, a five o'clock shadow dotted his jaw but it worked for him. His eyes were this rich amber that reminded me of honey. I bet his fear tasted like milk and honey. My mouth watered at the thought.
But none of this information was anything so incredible that would make someone want to kill him and to pay a professional to take him out at that. From what I could see, he wasn't a villain; he just pissed the wrong people off. Such a shame too, he was delicious. I think I am going to play with this one, maybe just a little. There was no reason why I couldn't indulge before I took the Ruski out.
Checking into my hotel was uneventful. The fairly luxurious four star hotel Sandi booked me at was right on the beach and the warm sea air caressed my damp skin. Dropping off the tiny suitcase, I slipped into something more seductive and headed downstairs. The short elevator ride give me time alone with my chaotic thoughts. It was hard not to think about when I was last on the Island. I couldn't help myself when the thoughts of blood and pain made my stomach knot with hunger and with revulsion. There were monsters like me and then there were monsters like him. Shaking off the sickness, I made my way to the hotel bar, a little dive called, the Salty Oyster. I had to feed if I was going to make it through this job and for a Skleros, bar trash was like fast food. And despite its name, the bar was swankier than I previously thought. The walls were sleekly painted a shade of ruby and the bar was completely modernized much like the hotel. Walking into the room, all heads turned in my direction. It wasn't anything new and most gave me a wide berth. I was danger, I was forbidden fruit. Both women and men wanted me but their fear was stronger. Shame, I could be fun when I wasn't hunting and killing or when I wasn't inducing terror so intense that you feel like your heart would burst.
Sitting at the bar, I signaled for the bartender and ordered a shot of tequila, top shelf and delectable. It was almost as good as pure fear. Almost. Looking bored and put out, I scanned the crowd for my Russian but to no avail. This job wasn't going to a piece of cake, I knew that. The whole being back in my place of origin was unsettling. Don't get me wrong, I loved my dark nature; adored all my monstrous tenacities. Regardless of what Dante did that night, I would still be who I am now, just not as young as I was then. A monster triggering the monster in me. Three more shots and I was ready to eat in more ways than one. Throwing my feelers out in the room, I locked on a scent, something sweet and crisp like apples. Drawing it in, I made eye contact with the source of the delectable scent; a thin, brunette woman across the room. She sat alone, one finger running the edge of a half empty martini glass. Her smile was coy, calculating and a jolt of hunger spiked in me, along with lust. Her tight body was curvy in the right places, and her clean scent drove me mad with want. My eyes never leaving hers, I ran a lime wedge across the top of my hand and pour the course salt over the space between my thumb and forefinger. Sexual tension crackled between us and I knew I had her in that moment. In the most suggestive way possible, I slowly licked the salt from my hand before downing the shot of Patron. Picking up her drink, she sauntered over to me, taking the bait. The fear rolling off her was nothing to the lust she was feeling. I had to fight not to devour her right then and there. She sat down next to me and signaled the bartender for another martini.
"Business or pleasure, sweetheart?" She asked, sipping her new drink. Her accent had a light island purr to it and it made me think of what it would sound like moaning my name. The thought made me instantly wet.
"A bit of both, kitten. Interested in finding out the latter?" I downed another shot and I could feel the alcohol burning out of my system. The tiny buzz I was feeling now would be gone in the 30 mins tops unless I fed. The high of feeding mixed with the tequila would be an elicited cocktail. She popped the olive in her mouth and took another sip.
"Always in interested in what feels good. I'm René." She gave me a wicked grin and I leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "I am the one that is going to make you scream tonight." Her sharp intake of breath told me all I need to know. I was about to fed and get off. Maybe Barbados wasn't so bad. I didn't know then how wrong I was to think that. Because in Barbados, the dead never stays dead.
Just a taste before I go...
We made it up to my room before I set to feasting on her luscious body. Between moans and kisses, I took tiny sips of her underlining nervousness. Not quite fear but just as tasty and it keep my buzz going strong. Her tipsiness made it easy to let my true nature slip. She wouldn't remember much about tonight tomorrow morning just that she should never drink and go home with women like me.
Stripping away her tight dress, I pushed her onto my bed, leaving her in only her black panties. With a giggle, she arched into my touch, moaning as I kissed my way down her belly. Pausing briefly to pull one nipple in between my lips and her breath hitched. I couldn't help but grin against her flesh. She was so pliant in my hands and the little ecstatic noises she was making made my need run rampant. I could feel my pupils dilating, the demon in me bleeding through as my lust peaked. Keeping my head down so she couldn't see my eyes, I made my way to the apex of her thighs. The tiny triangle of silk that covered her sex, glistened with her arousal and it mixed with that delectable apple scent. Lightly running my nails down her inner thighs, I took a stronger hit of her fear, spiking her heart rate and the high was bliss. I could feel her start to shiver and before her body tensed with apprehension. It took everything in me to pull back my inner demon and not devour her whole. I didn't need to kill when I fed, but it was all the more sweeter. Not tonight. Tonight, I play.
"Shhhh. Trust me, flower. I am going to do things to you that you haven't even imagined and you are going to love every minute of it." I purred before placing a light kiss over the thin material of her panties. She opened her legs wider and relaxed into my kiss. Ripping the flimsy garment away with ease, she cried out from surprise and a spike of lust shot through her. I could smell it on her...on us both. She arched up for me to continue my kiss and I slid one finger into her silky folds. She was so damn wet for my touch and it fueled my hunger and my endless need. The long moan she rewarded me with sent me over the edge. With long languid strokes of my tongue, I drink in her taste and she writhed underneath my experienced mouth.
"Oh my god! Don't stop, please don't stop that..." She pleaded in that lovely Island accent. Delicious.
"I wouldn't dream of it," I muttered into her flesh, her giving body surrendering completely to me. And when I gently sucked on her swollen clit, she came undone. The intensity of her orgasm made her back bow as spasms racked her body. That is when I struck. As the waves of pleasure made her mindless, I lightly ran a fingertip against her inner thigh, a small touch, but it had a huge effect. Drawing in her fear, I pulled her out of her sex-fueled haze into a nightmare of a panic attack. I drank deeply and without regret until she passed out. Her rapid heartbeat like the sweetest song, thrumming across my senses as the fear took me under. The feeding wouldn't kill her, but she would think twice about going home with strange women. And one thing that is for sure, that orgasm would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.
* * *
After taking her to one of the hotel's stairwells, I called the front desk to retrieve the unconscious woman. It seems 'René' had a little too much to drink tonight and passed out on her way to her room. I know I am a monster, but hell at least I called someone. I am not a complete asshole. She was just what I need to get my head on straight. Feeling refreshed and ready to finish this job, I had to force myself to go back to my room and sleep. There was so much to be done but if I rushed into it, I would run the risk of letting him flee and that was not an option. The sooner I got this shit done, the sooner I could get home and out of this hellhole. Because that is the
only thing that matter at the moment, not the money, not the pleasure of feeding. No, it was leaving the place I lost all of my humanity by the hand of a monster. It was leaving behind the ghosts of my past.
Dreams and watchers...
"Here, kitty kitty...let me in." Dante's voice purred from beyond the front door, tempting me to do just that. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out the sound of his seductive voice. But the pull of his influence was too much. I caught myself as I was unlocking the front door and even then I couldn't stop. Slowly, I opened the door...
* * *
I shot upright in bed, my heart pounding and my stomach twisted. The dreams were getting worse and that just won't do. I had to get out of here and the only way to do that is to take out the birdy and get the hell out of dodge. Glancing over at the obnoxiously bright alarm clock, I noticed that I had slept well into the next night. If it was accurate, it was just after 9pm. Plenty of time to get proper and find my hit. This was the part I lived for. The hunt...the chase. Doing just that, I headed out to some of the closer bars. The first two being complete busts; nothing of interest and shitty mixed drinks. The third bar I came across was a little classier, well as classy as you can get in this town. Sitting at the bar, I ordered a vodka martini and checked out my surroundings. No one seemed to notice me this night and I was glad for it. When the short, round bartender sat my drink in front of me, I did something I never do. I asked about my hit. Pulling out the tiny screen-shot of Luca, I handed it to the woman. She took it cautiously before asking, "You a cop?" Her minced English making it apparent that she didn't leave the Island much.