by Hawk, Ryanne
I’d met Dixon at a charity event to raise money for extracurricular activities at my school. He was the featured speaker and a big supporter of the school’s scholarship fund. We’d struck up a conversation, and he invited me out. I was flattered, and the lonely woman in me jumped at a chance to socialize and have some fun.
Now, I was second-guessing the wisdom of this date. Fuck, why couldn’t I just have a normal life. If I’d learned to listen to my senses, I’d have gotten the hell out of his presence, but stubbornness was a family trait. A blessing and a curse.
I swallowed my anxiety and plastered a concerned expression on my face. “Is your irritation work-related? I’m sure being in charge must put you under a lot of pressure.”
His hollow and bitter eyes snared me. “Do you ever quit yapping?” He said with his hand pressed against his forehead. Then he slammed his fist down on the table, making me jump in my seat. “Just shut up, would you.”
Part of me wanted to bolt and run for the safety of my home. The other half of me felt a sense of duty to relieve the tension mounting around his aura. His quick fire anger laced its way around my wrists and tugged at me, demanding I take notice. I wove the pissed off anxiety in between my fingers and heat raced down into my nerves and boiled my blood. I welcomed the burn, swallowing down the potent fusion and melting the anger with my ice, trying to bank his temper, sending him coolness through the strands.
“I received some unexpected bad news today,” he finally blurted out. “Fuck, it was a lot of bad news.”
I sat quietly, my face calm and hopefully serene, beseeching him with my eyes to continue.
A mix of emotions twisted his face. “A business deal went horribly wrong, and my company stands to lose millions. I’ll have to answer to the board of directors about the huge mess, and oh, by the way, the police are snooping around asking questions about a woman I dated a few months ago who is now missing.”
“Missing? How awful. I’m sure the situation will be cleared soon.” Red flags jumped up in front of me, hollering at me to leave, but instead, I reached out and held his hand, sending soothing waves of calm.
Across the table, he startled, and his chair moved back as he stood up with force, sloshing the water out of the glasses on the table. Before I registered the new emotions, he grabbed me by the arm, propelled me out of my seat, and pushed me toward the door.
“We’re leaving. I don’t want to be here.”
Shock overwhelmed my better judgment but I managed to snatch my purse quickly as my traitorous feet moved with every tug of his strong arm. When we got to the hostess platform, he merely said, “We’re not hungry.”
Dixon opened the glass doors, and I sputtered, “You’re hurting me.”
Patrons of the restaurant stared at us with confused expressions and opened mouths. A few of the women looked down into their laps.
He acted as if I’d said nothing and threw open the back door to his car, shoving me inside and climbing in next to me. He didn’t take his eyes off my skirt. The raw lecherous lust turned my insides into moldy jelly. I maneuvered my purse onto my lap.
“Take me home, Jackson.” Dixon’s voice was low and hollow, devoid of light.
I assumed Jackson must be the driver, but I was momentarily struck stupid when I saw he had a chauffeur. I peered at Dixon with my third eye and noticed his aura spat crazy colors and emitted low level sparks, angry reds and oranges swirled with jet black. I should have checked sooner, but for once I’d just wanted a normal night out.
“Take me home, please,” I said in a calm, cool voice.
Dixon didn’t even acknowledge my existence. His emotional aura was all over the map, and his pulsing rage dominated the small space. He was in a void of his own hatred.
My ears rang and my vision blurred at the rank potency he unleashed since we’d gotten in the car. He clenched his fists and bunched them at his sides—his eyes wild and mean.
“Jackson, can you take me home please? I live at 699 Broadway—”
“No.” Dixon gritted out as he slid up the privacy screen in the town car.
Okay, Cordelia. Don’t panic. Stay focused and try to pull the hate into yourself and see if you can calm him to rational levels. “Dixon, is there anything I can do to help you?”
He turned his head to look at me. Then he reached over, grabbed my hand, and thrust it onto his cock. “Yes, bitch. You can suck me. Right now.”
I was appalled at his bold and menacing words. Was this how he normally treated women? When I’d first met him, he’d seemed so normal and nice. How’d he flip so fast?
“I don’t want to.” The defiance was out of my mouth faster than I could think better of how my refusal might incense him.
He flew out of his seat, covered my mouth with his hand, and pressed me into the leather with all his weight on top of me.
“I don’t care what you want, slut. I saw you with that prick in the alley, your short skirt up, and your pussy full as he pounded into you. You like sex rough. You will do whatever I tell you to do, and right now, I want your fucking mouth.” He leaned in close and licked my cheek, making me squirm.
“That wasn’t—”
“I said to shut up, bitch.”
“But—” I bit his hand, trying to remember if Delia had gotten loose and done something I was now being held responsible for. Probably. There were a few memory gaps lately.
“The fuck—” he said as he released my mouth and backhanded me quick and fast. “Don’t make me take off my belt. Don’t ever fucking bite me again.”
My cheek throbbed and the corner of my eye ached. A whimper escaped my lips and shame roared through me. Shame that I didn’t know how to deal with this human man on my own, or maybe I was afraid to.
Some empaths have heightened strength and others are preternaturally fast. So far, the only abilities I’d manifested in my life were filtering emotions and giving back the opposite in return. My tears caused rain, and occasionally, I lit things on fire. None of those seemed a good idea at present. I lacked the fine control over my elemental abilities, though, I hoped I gained control soon. I needed to practice.
My darker side simmered with fire, rage, and consumed the sinister and raw pain of others without filtering them into light. She used them to fuel her own dismal outlook on the world and life in general. She was the ultimate cynic, and I suffered the backlash of all her pent up aggression and anger issues. She made me anxious.
I closed my eyes and inhaled, the scents wafting from his fingers an aphrodisiac to my darker nature. Delia stirred in me, but I held her off. If I unleashed her now, trouble would ensue.
For now, I’d bide my time. I’d allow him to think he commanded the situation. Then I’d make my move. I just wasn’t sure what my move would be yet.
We pulled into a darkened parking garage, and Dixon held my wrist firmly, pulling me from the car, my purse strap wrapped around my other arm so I didn't lose it. My mind raced with options. Should I kick him and run? I thought about the shoes I’d chosen and decided I needed to take them off first; otherwise, I wouldn’t get very far.
He towed me to the wall of elevators, and I figured there must be security cameras. I made a big show of grimacing and trying to tug myself from his grasp, but he maneuvered one arm across my shoulder and tucked me under his other arm, shielding potential cameras and crushing my wrist with his grip.
“I suggest you stop moving. I’d hate to break this.” He said as he squeezed. "And, if you're looking for security camera's or someone to rescue you, there aren't any. This is my private garage and entrance. I control everything." He punctuated his statement by grabbing a fistful of my hair and snapping my head back hard, my skull colliding with my spine.
I was no stranger to pain, but I liked to avoid injuries if possible. I wasn’t a masochist. “You don’t have to do this. I’m sure you could have your pick of women.”
He nodded. “I often do. But tonight, I want you. And I want you to scream.”
> Every bad horror movie ran through my head as I squirmed and tried to break lose from his crushing grip. I was about to stomp my pointy heel into his foot when the elevator door dinged, and he fisted a handful of my hair, effectively controlling my movements.
Shit. I am so screwed.
With one hand crushing my wrist and the other yanking my hair, I was completely helpless. The doors closed and the elevator rose, my stomach dropping further with every floor we passed.
We exited the elevator, and I glanced up and down the hallway looking for a way out or cameras, then I remembered he said there weren't any and my spirit waned for a second.
When he stopped in front of his apartment, a barrage of residual emotional energy assaulted my psychic senses, and I cringed. The staggering scents made Dixon seem like a habitual pain giver and probably a rapist too.
Not me. Hell no, not me.
My mind worked overtime and came up with a hasty plan. When he let go of my wrist to open his door, I’d slam his face into the wall and run for the elevators. My muscles tensed in preparation, and he stopped to stare at me, twisting my wrist to the side hard.
“What are you planning, Cordelia?” he said with a sinister singsong of my name.
I didn’t think. I threw my head back and slammed his hand and my head against the wall at the same time I stomped my heel onto his foot.
Too bad my foot met carpet as he moved out of the way. He let go of my hair with a curse then backhanded me across the face again, sending me sprawling onto the hall floor. Unused to being manhandled, I lay stunned for a few moments. My cheeks pulsed and I tasted blood.
“Fucking bitch.” He reached down and snagged my hair again and pulled me up as I opened my mouth to cry out but stopped myself. I bit back tears of frustration and growing rage. I should yell, scream and try to get help. For some reason the words wouldn't come. There was no one here to help me.
I struggled against his hold, flailing my arms and legs.
Dixon positioned himself behind me with one hand across my mouth and the other wrapped around my waist, crushing me to him.
“Don’t move or I’ll slam your face into the door and break your nose.” He moved a step closer to his door and lined his eye up with some type of box. A red light zoomed across his eye as if he was a bar code.
Shit. I didn’t plan on an orbital scan. Geezus. How much money did this fucker have? And why the hell did he need an orbital scanner to unlock his doors. What secrets did he have?
I was about to find out as the door nicked open, and he threw me onto the floor with a jarring thud. My head slammed back, and my jaw snapped forward into my clavicle. Pain lanced the back of my skull as I made contact with the marble tile, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth from biting my tongue. The clang of my lipstick, cellphone and compact sliding across the cold floor made me turn my head to the side to watch where they landed. My phone went under the hall table. I turned my head straight, my eyes catching movement.
Two seconds later, Dixon raised his foot above me, and before I could move, he stomped on my ankle with all his weight. A loud snap and a searing white-hot jolt coursed through me, forcing me to scream. My ankle pulsed, and I knew he’d broken the bones, probably crushed them into pieces, too.
He reared back and kicked me in the side, cracking my rib. My breath labored in my lungs, and I gasped. I couldn’t breath for a few moments. I lay there defenseless against a monster. Nothing had ever prepared me for this.
I howled in agony and tried to move to stem the pain, but within a few seconds, Delia pounded in my head, begging me to let her out and deal with Dixon. The torment made it difficult to think, to hold her back and stay in control.
I bit my lip and tried so hard because I feared what Delia would do to him. He was obviously a monster, and he clearly deserved to be brought to justice, but Delia would be his judge, jury, and executioner.
I fought the good fight, but the pain was too great and despite my noble intentions, I didn’t want to be raped or killed. I receded into the back of my mind and unleashed my darker side. I never gave a second glance, just closed the mental door and crawled into bed to heal and wait. As much as I loathed hurting someone, I’d let the darker side try to deal with this fucker. If I squeezed my eyes shut hard enough, maybe I wouldn’t know what happened. Wishful thinking, of course.
Chapter Five
“So, you like pain?” I asked as I stretched my arms over my head and then looked down at the atrocious outfit my counterpart had picked out for us this evening. “You get off on hurting women?” A deep numbness surged through my body as I healed.
The dickhead who’d hurt us peered at me with a puzzled expression, trying to figure out why I wasn’t writhing on his expensive flooring in agony anymore. Little did he know, we only showed pain on the inside, and I was still hurting big time, but this piece of shit would never know just how much distress riffled through my body now.
I raced through the memory of this evening, giving Cordy credit for her actions. She did the right thing, except for when she let this asswipe take us to a secondary location. Did she not pay attention to anything Dominic taught us? She’d become lax and complacent. We couldn’t afford her love or light any longer.
Dixon lifted his foot and attempted to trample my ankle again, but I flicked my fingers at him, and little sparks spat from my tips to his pant legs as I lit them on fire.
“What the fuck! What the fuck!” he yelled as he backpedaled away from me and hit the door with his arms out wide. He frantically batted at the slow burning fire and extinguished the burn before the heat could do much damage.
Fine with me. My fun was just getting started.
The chaos of his home swirled around me. Distress, lacerations, agony, and suffering all flowed into me and lent me strength. Cordy didn’t quite understand this about us yet, but she’d figure it out soon enough when our ankle healed in a few moments. She wore rose-colored glasses—accepting people and always forgiving. She believed every person was inherently good, and they only occasionally did bad things. I sheltered her, so she didn’t crumble under the weight of knowledge that bad people truly exist.
Some people deserved to be put down. Though my first instinct is to protect, I am not above killing if warranted. And okay, I’d only killed one person, and that was an accident, but to be honest? I was so sick and tired of being good. So tired of being used.
Dixon broke out of his stupor and stalked over to me, still a hapless female lying at his feet, and grabbed me by the hair, dragging me to my feet. He put his face inches from mine and said in a sinister low tone, “I don’t know who you think you are, but you will spread your legs for me, even if I have to tie you to my bed.”
“Do you promise to tie me up?” I said, batting my eyelashes at him, not showing a hint of fear. And why should I fear him? My elemental power could roast him where he stood. Another ability Cordy refused to accept about us.
The very first time I used our rage I’d been sixteen and holding my father by the throat against a wall after he’d hit my mother. I’d envisioned our auras melding together. Then I’d made him relive every bad deed he’d ever done. His screams had been music to my ears. I’d smiled until I saw the look of horror on my mom’s face. I’d let him go, and he’d slumped to the ground bleeding from his ears. She’d rushed to his side, attempting to staunch the flow. I still don’t know if he lived or died.
My mom never spoke to me again. I’d fled the kitchen in tears and packed a bag when she’d screamed I was a monster. All I’d tried to do was protect her, and she renounced me.
And no, Cordy didn’t know about fusing auras. I hid our darker gifts from her, lest she think we were the monster our mother claimed. I knew she wasn’t ready to embrace us as a singular entity yet.
“Get on the counter and spread your legs,” Dixon demanded, and his disgusting tone snapped me out of my reverie.
“And if I don’t?” I feigned examining my nails in boredom as I
casually stepped back towards the granite counter.
Fast hands reached out and seized my breasts, thumb and forefingers pinching my nipples in a bruising grip. “Don’t fuck with me, Cordelia. You won’t like what happens.”
The sharp pain spread from my nipples to my core, and I reveled in the sensation. I smiled. “Ooh, the painful tingle feels good.”
I reached down with faster hands and captured his cock through his slacks, digging my nails into his sensitive ball sack. “You should know better than to play with fire, Dixon. You will feel the burn.”
He cried out and released my breasts, taking a step back, one hand holding his nuts and the other palm out as if to ward off evil.
Was I evil?
“Who are you?”
I tossed my head back, laughed, and watched him move away. Human men were so easy to scare, especially men who borrowed their control from the fear and power over others. If you showed no fear, they remained powerless and weak.
Easy prey. They made delicious meals, and it was high time I fed properly, as my nature dictated.
I stalked towards him, relishing the way his eyes cast left and right, deciding his next course of action. My movements were slow and measured. I wanted his fear dancing across his skin and sweating out his pours.
His next course would be his last. I’d end his life. With every step forward, he moved back, and soon his ass hit a wall. “Look, this is a misunderstanding. I was playing with you. You can go.”
“But I don’t want to go, Dixon. You see, I’m hungry.” I let my desire to consume him show on my face, let him see my pupils dilate as I wet my lips in anticipation.
Sweat poured down his forehead and mixed with the heady aroma of nervous pheromones. Fear followed and I pressed my body into his, inhaling the scents and allowing them to fuel my fire. I stood on tiptoes and licked his neck, drinking his essence into me, calling his demons further to the surface, so I could sip his sins and bask in his wickedness.
His cock throbbed against me. He was hard, hot, and willing despite his fear. He was still a man, and I was a woman he wanted to fuck. He believed himself superior and stronger than me. He figured he’d take what he wanted then break me after.