by Lana Hartley
A delicious thought.
When I step out, I open her door and extend my hand, planning to take her bag. Instead, she puts her hand in mine. I don’t breathe for three seconds, the electric contact of her skin on mine making me swallow. Searching her eyes, I know that she feels this same spark between us. Fear or no fear, Carrie likes the way my thumb traces over her hand. Her other hand is still holding my coat. “You planned to make your getaway with that?” I nod, indicating the coat.
Carrie’s cheeks flame up a deep shade of pink and she looks down. The sight of her embarrassed does something to me that makes my cock twitch and my hold on her tighten. I take my other hand to tilt her chin up to look at me. “I’m flattered.” I say the words slowly, savoring the sight of her eyes watching my lips.
I wonder if knowing I am a killer, or knowing that I’m a killer that might kiss her, scares Carrie more.
Licking my lips, I think about how I’d rather be tasting hers. Despite the fact that I’ve captured her, I do feel that the next best move is to not come on so strong. “Your bags?” I ask her instead.
I take her purse and her weekender bag. This impromptu getaway either wasn’t for long, or she didn’t feel she needed much.
Carrie doesn’t give up my coat. She’s charmed by me, and unlike the women that I charm to sleep with once and then forget forever, I’m trying to show her who I really am. Perhaps she and Carter are the only people that can understand me. That’s why, once Carrie has warmed up to me further, I’ll have Carter over for dinner. I need my little family to all be acquainted.
Tonight, though, I’m going to wine and dine with Carrie. Tonight, she’s all mine.
Carrie
I’m foolish, but I wish that I was holding Jeremy’s hand again rather than his coat. I follow him inside the elegant estate. Not everyone with money is tacky like my parents, I suppose…
I snap out of whatever trance makes me think of Jeremy as anything but a monster. He killed so many people that I went to school with. He probably killed Laurel last night too, since the first attempt didn’t work. No matter how charming, he is a murderer. Still, I know that I can use this peculiar attraction I have for him to my advantage. I’ll do what he says and I’ll figure out a way to escape.
I paid attention as much as I could to where we were going, but ultimately all I really know is that the house is miles away from anyone else. Despite his beautiful mansion, there’s no evidence that some member of his staff might be around. I don’t know if I could even trust someone that worked for him to be an ally, and not keep me prisoner.
The garage has a wall of keys that he locks up with his fingerprint again. It might be difficult to get a car, but it would be even more difficult to run on foot. I’ll have to figure something out.
“I’ll take these to your room, then I’d like to talk with you before dinner. As I said, I know you must have questions.” I nod and follow Jeremy up a staircase that belongs in a fairy tale and not someone’s home; it is white and wrought iron and the most elegant thing I’ve ever seen.
Jeremy is wealthy enough to get away with murder. To have a fleet of cars. Why not live in what is practically a secluded castle?
Upstairs, I walk past several rooms until I step inside the one he motions to, and see something I’ve never seen before. My room, indeed… it’s actually decorated in a way I enjoy. White wicker furniture, delicate lace accents, nothing sparkly or tacky in sight. The bed has an enormous lacy canopy. The wicker vanity has antique bronze brushes alongside modern cosmetics, also in earth tone hues and delicate colors. There’s a closet, where Jeremy places my bag, and I see deep violets and rich red wine hues on dresses, simple blue jeans, gray sweaters. The wardrobe, the room, everything looks like what I would choose for myself if anyone had ever given me the choice. It makes me feel off balance.
“After we talk, you can dress for dinner. I’m making us something special,” Jeremy says. There’s something about the way his eyes regard mine when he smiles. It isn’t the charming way that he has drawn me in with before. It’s like he’s seen the look in my eyes that betrays just how well he must know me.
“Thank you.” I exhale and look around, unable to stay focused on the sight of the room or the acknowledgement in Jeremy’s eyes, pleased that he’s succeeded.
I catch a simple black dress inside the closet and reach out for it. “I-I think this is what I’ll wear,” I tell him. I feel stupid now, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. I tell myself that at least I’m being docile, so he doesn’t think I want to run. I can’t be so easily charmed by him, knowing what he is. Knowing what he’s done.
“I’ll give you a moment if you want to unpack?” Jeremy steps back.
Without thinking, I take another step toward him, erasing some of the space he’s put between us. When I realize what I’m doing, I walk to the bed and place his coat on it. “I don’t have many things. I’ll follow you downstairs so that I don’t get lost.” I laugh nervously, wondering if he thinks I’m being strange.
I should be more concerned about how odd this all is. He wants to talk. Jeremy has to know the kinds of questions that will be on my mind.
He nods, smiling again. I watch his hand and it looks like he’s going to touch mine, but instead he places it at the small of my back and guides me out of the room. “The stairs are hard to miss, but I don’t mind offering a helping hand.” Jeremy’s own laugh is warm, honeyed. I feel the sound all over my body.
I want to hate that he has this effect on me, but in truth I’m thrilled to feel these things. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. No one has ever shown such consideration for what I like or enjoy. The idea that he did what he did on the beach, stabbed all those students…as a present? I’m jarred. I don’t know if I should ask him about that. I know I have to ask something, but I hope he’ll do most of the talking.
When we’re back downstairs, he sits in a chair and indicates an antique-looking sofa that is firm but comfortable. I look at the ornate metal edging on the tops and sides. The home matches the man. Wealthy and elegant. Practically regal.
“For every question I ask, you may have one,” Jeremy states.
So much for getting him to do the talking. But I’m intrigued by what he might reveal about himself, given that I do the same. I sit down and suck in a breath. “Okay, you first.” I meet his eyes.
I think he’s pleased by that challenge. My belly flutters at the thought. “No, you’ll go first, Carrie,” Jeremy challenges in return.
“Why did you kill my friends?” I blurt out in an attempt to get the line of inquiry started. I feel guilty saying that because I hated those people almost as much as they hated me. I don’t know why I said that, or why I want to poke the bear like that question might.
“They were not your friends.” Jeremy exhales. “Are you sad that they are dead?”
I suck in my lower lip, chewing it for a moment. I don’t want to answer that question because I don’t want to lie to Jeremy. “No,” I admit. “Do you kill people often?” I don’t know why I’m asking questions like this. I probably don’t want to know the answer. Well, actually, I realize when I watch him smirk, I do want to know. But why? I should be focused on getting out of here, but I want to know more about Jeremy. I want to understand him. I want to understand why I feel like he knows things about me that I don’t have to say. How could he have furnished the room, the wardrobe the way that I liked? I know he watched me, that’s how he was able to grab me in the car so quickly, but the clothing and room that my parents provided were nothing like my tastes.
“Yes, Carrie.” Jeremy’s voice emphasizes my name in way that makes me feel dizzy. Why does he have this effect on me? Why do I enjoy this? “Are you afraid of me?” Jeremy leans forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees.
I can see a rather sizable bulge in his trousers. I gulp. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I should be.” I start talking quickly and force myself to look at him. “Why aren
’t I dead, too?” I try not to squeak out that question.
“Why didn’t you tell the police anything about me? You visited Laurel before she died, talked to the cops several times, yet you didn’t tell them that you recognized me? Because we both know that you did.” Jeremy’s eyes look so intently into mine that the temperature in the room becomes sweltering.
I could run to the other end of this house and his eyes would still be on me. I forget how to breathe and wish I could look away, but I don’t. “You didn’t answer the question,” I gasp out finally.
“Why aren’t you sad your classmates are dead?” Jeremy stands up.
I don’t answer and just look up at him, walking towards me.
“Do you want to go back to your parents?” He stands right in front of me.
I stand up, even though he towers over me, and keep looking in his eyes. “Is this my home now?”
Jeremy’s hands close over my upper arms and he squeezes me for a second before he lets his hands drop. “You should get dressed for dinner. I need to start cooking.”
I nod and turn from the couch. As I start to walk away, Jeremy grabs my hand, closing his over mine. “I would never harm you, Carrie.” He brings my hand to his mouth and presses a small kiss there.
I’ve lost my mind. A surge of arousal bolts through me when his lips graze over my skin. Despite everything, I am so incredibly stirred in this moment that I place my hand back on his chest, where I touched him after he killed all those students. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of who I am when I’m with you.” I turn quickly and walk up the stairs, unable to look at him.
Carrie
I walk slowly down the steps, the black satin of my dress brushing against my thighs. I wonder if he’ll like me in this dress. Should I have put my hair up? Why do I care? He’s a killer. I should be plotting my escape, but what would I be escaping to? My parents don’t love me. I’ve always known that. I’m just a doll for my mother to dress up and show off, and a success accessory to my father. I’m not a person to them. They don’t care about what I like or what I feel. Jeremy’s a stranger, yet he seems to know more about me than the people who should love me most. Maybe my parents are looking for me, but I’d be lying if I said I wanted to be found.
I reach the bottom of the stairs and stand for minute, uncertain. I know that if I turn left I’ll be back in the sitting room, and see I light flickering down the hall to the right. The door is right in front of me. I wonder if it’s unlocked. Just a few steps and I could find out.
“Carrie.”
I turn my head at the sound of Jeremy’s voice, dark and smooth as velvet. He’s walking toward me, his black suit perfectly accentuating the graceful lines of his lean, muscular body. I feel my pulse quicken at the sight of him. I could say it’s because of fear, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. I’m still as attracted to Jeremy now as I was the first moment I saw him. Of course I’m afraid, but something tells me that if Jeremy wanted to kill me, I never would have left the beach. They would have found me lifeless, lying in the sand with the others. The realization is strangely comforting.
“I wasn’t sure which way to go,” I say.
Jeremy steps forward and takes my hand. and suddenly I feel a little warmer. “Come. This way,” he says, “I often forget how confusing this house can be to newcomers.”
“Did you grow up here?” I ask as I follow him down the hall, past the portraits of what I assume are long dead relatives. I wonder briefly if they all died of natural causes.
“Yes. Well, summers and holidays. The rest of the time I was away at school.”
“I wish I’d been sent away.” The words slip out before I can catch myself.
Jeremy turns and looks at me. “You don’t enjoy your parents’ company, I take it?”
It sounds more like a statement than a question. “I… I love my parents,” I say, suddenly defensive, “everyone does.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who does what everyone does.”
I’m saved from having to respond by our arrival the dining room. The room is candlelit, dark and elegant, a perfect setting. He steps up to the long mahogany table and pulls out my chair. I settle myself on the blood-red velvet seat. I wonder if red is Jeremy’s favorite color. I feel a bit like a princess, and I guess that would make Jeremy my dark prince.
I wait for Jeremy to seat himself before lifting the silver cloche in front of me. I’m greeted by the beautifully presented quail with raspberry sauce. I gasp. “It’s too lovely to eat.”
“Thank you,” Jeremy says chuckling, “but I hope you don’t truly feel that way. I’m starving, and I imagine you are too.”
Jeremy’s right. I haven’t eaten today and the food smells incredible. I take a bite, and it’s all I can do to keep from sighing with delight as my mouth is filled with a symphony of flavor.
“Are you a chef?”
Jeremy chuckles low in his throat. “No. Cooking is a hobby, but as with all my passions, I strive for excellence.”
My heart skips a beat as I wonder what Jeremy’s other hobbies might be.
“Wine? I know you’re not of age, but this is an excellent vintage. It can be our little secret.” He pours me glass.
“So, what do you do?” I ask, taking a sip of wine. It sings on my tongue and somehow, my next bite of food taste even better.
“Whatever I like,” Jeremy replies, fixing me in place with a stare that can only be described as lascivious. It makes me feel naked. I can feel my nipples tighten and press against the satin of my dress. Heat rushes to my face.
“What do you do, Carrie?”
“Mostly what I’m told to do.” I’m not proud of my answer, but it’s true.
“But not always. You didn’t do what Laurel told you at the bar.”
“I suppose it depends on who’s telling me.”
After we’ve finished eating, Jeremy takes my plate away, as well as his, and comes back with the most decadent dark chocolate torte I’ve ever seen. He places it in front of me, returning to his seat and his eyes never leaving me. I take my first bite and my eyes slip closed, savoring the bittersweet richness. When I open my eyes, Jeremy is staring at me.
“I see you appreciate sensual pleasures.”
I look at him, confused. “I’ve never thought of eating as particularly sensual.” I know taste is a sense, but then again, I’ve never eaten anything this wonderful before. Despite my parents’ money, their food choices were pretty bland.
“Oh, but Carrie, my dear, eating is incredibly sensual. I bet you felt that first taste all the way down to your toes.”
“I did.” I say, and it feels like I’m confessing something.
“See? Eating is a delight for your entire body.” Jeremy wears a smile that can’t be described any way other than wicked. “Your torte is beautifully presented and the taste, lovely and bittersweet, thrilling, but more than that, I love the way it feels against your tongue as you devour it.”
I swallow. My fork clinks against my plate as it slips from my fingers. The temperature in the room feels as if it’s gone up a hundred degrees. The way Jeremy is looking at me has every nerve in my body at attention. I look at him and try to find my voice. “You didn’t eat dessert,” I say, and I sound breathless.
“No, you’re right. I haven’t had dessert yet, and I do think I’m ready for it.” Jeremy gets up and walks around to my side of the table.
He turns my chair around so that I’m facing him, and kneels in front of me. It’s such a graceful movement I’m barely aware of it until I feel his hands on my knees, spreading them apart.
“May I?” he asks, looking at me with those green eyes darkened by lust.
“Yes.” I say breathlessly.
Carrie
My “yes” hangs in the air, filling up the room, then dissipating in an instant. Why should I have choices here? I didn’t have choices at home. The aching, throbbing need between my legs isn’t giving me a choice, so why should he? My yes i
s everything and nothing. I wonder if it matters at all. You’re a prisoner of your own device, a voice whispers in my head. I try shut it out. I didn’t come here willingly. You didn’t say no, the voice reminds me, you didn’t protest and you haven’t even tried to run away. Jeremy’s asking for permission when could do anything to me. You want him to do everything to you. The voice inside my head is right, but I still hate it. Jeremy’s hands rest against my knees, warm. I look down at him.
“What would happen if I say no?” The question pushes its way out of my mouth before I can control it, stop it, push it back behind my teeth keep it where it belongs. Asking questions of Jeremy will never lead anywhere good.
His hands tighten almost imperceptibly on my knees. Almost. Jeremy tilts his head. Those dazzling green eyes are darker with lust. Not bright like emeralds but dark like the green of a lush forbidden forest. If this were a fairy tale, the princess would be frightened, would fear to live this next moment I’m trembling, but it’s not from fear. Well, not only from fear.
He leans back and regards me quietly for a moment. I can feel my heart hammering in my chest, speeding up as his silence fills room heavy like molasses. His eyes that hold me down.
“What do think would happen?” Jeremy asks, removing his hands from my knees.
I immediately miss his touch. I want the warm solid weight of his hands on me again. Without those hands to anchor me, I feel lost and adrift on a sea of longing.
“Nothing?”
“Yes, my darling, Carrie. Nothing.”
He leans back, the warmth of his body further from me, and he looks away for a moment. I lean forward, no longer held captive by his gaze. In my moment of freedom I seek to be recaptured. More silence in which I ache and struggle for breath, waiting for his next words as if they’re life and death to me. Maybe they are.