I saw her lips moving, her upper lip split in two, and even though I couldn’t hear anything but a pressed exhale, I knew that she was saying my family name. Not being able to turn away, I stepped closer to the bars that separated me from her, knowing that Peter wasn’t following. Instead, I could sense him wanting to say something. I waved him away, and he stayed silent.
Even if Price attacked me, I would heal. And apart from that, I would deserve it.
She came closer, the chain that was attached to the metal collar around her neck, rattling loudly behind her. It made me flinch, looking at that, but I forced myself not to look away.
Was this how Meghan felt, facing me for the first time?
Did she feel the same about me, as I felt about Price that moment? Probably not, because it wasn’t her fault and she couldn’t change anything about it.
Even without Price facing me up close, I knew that I had to find a way to stop all of this, the experiments, this treatment of those who the virus had warped, twisted, and broken, and most of all the suffering.
I waited for Price to come close and face me, doing my best to keep my facial expression in check and not hurt her with my emotions. But I knew I failed.
She came so close that the heavy chain that bound her to the opposite wall was lifted high up in the air. Price was as close as she could get, but she wouldn’t be able to reach through the bars, which I could hear were electrified. The way she looked at me, there was no doubt that she knew who I was. Again, her lips moved, but all that came from her mouth was an exhale, maybe a whisper, barely sounding like a word. But I didn’t need to listen to know what she said.
“Please.”
A lump the size of my fist stuck in my throat and I felt tears burning in my eyes. She looked as if she was stuck in transition, not able to change back or finish the transition. I can remember the pain from my first shift and the pain from every shift afterward.
This was just brutal, and cruel, and inhumane.
“Please, help me,” she told me and I could hear her voice in my head, clearly as if she had talked to me in human form. “I can’t live like this. Please.”
I stepped forward, closer to the bars, the electricity making my hairs stand up straight. I was so close that I could reach out to her, touch her. And I did, placing my hand on her cheek. She closed her eyes. I’m not sure if I saw a tear running down her face or if it was just inside my head. It wouldn’t have made any difference. I could see myself reach through those bars with both of my hands and snapping her neck, ending her suffering.
“You can’t,” Peter suddenly told me, making her flinch, and snap her eyes open; I knew that she had felt my intention, the way she glared at him.
I already had lowered my hands and looked at him, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to glance at her again.
“You can’t do it,” Peter shook his head, his expression unreadable for me.
Was it sorrow? Did he feel pity for this poor woman who once had been a proud soldier, a strong woman? She had been willing to die for her country and its beliefs and made a mistake reaching out for a straw that had been poisoned.
“If you do it, you won’t see her again,” Peter said, his lips forming a thin line, and she shook his head, barely noticeable, and probably invisible to the cameras. “This is a test. If you kill 16, you will never see Meghan again, and they will start with her all over again.”
“What do you mean?” I wasn’t sure if I had understood what he was trying to tell me. “Start all over again.”
“They will give her to Four,” Peter clarified.
I froze. I couldn’t think and still tried to make sense of it. Four.
I knew that they were naming males after their first name and females after their family name.
Four. D. Daniel. Wheeler.
“Calm down, Jay,” I heard Peter urge me, but he was far away.
It wasn’t him, his words or his doing that made me snap out of it, but the rattling of chains next to me, as Price was retreating.
It took all my strength to turn around and look at her. Price’s expression –the way she looked at me– it broke something inside of me.
I had been willing to kill her, an innocent person, a human being that was suffering indescribably. I had been fine with that, and act I would have never even considered before. And I couldn’t free her from her torment because of a woman I loved because I couldn’t imagine existing without her. Because I was selfish and weak. And she knew it.
“I promise,” I told her. “I promise,” I told myself.
She held my glance captive until she had retreated all the way back into the corner furthest away, cowering and shaking, as if she hadn’t moved at all.
I don’t know for how long I stared at her. I couldn’t go away until I had figured out what to do. It wasn’t fair that I was sent across the country to kill random people, but wasn’t allowed to end one friend’s suffering.
“I want to do this every day, whenever possible,” I said after what felt like an eternity and Price cast her glance to the floor; I turned towards Peter. “I know I can reach all of them with enough time.”
I was lying blatantly, but I didn’t care. All the ideals I used to live, had gone down the drain over the last few months. The very thing I had promised myself not to do, I had done just a few days ago: killed without asking, and – more importantly – without caring.
I wasn’t only cursed anymore. I knew that I was going straight to Hell, but maybe I could at least save some of the others.
Day 159
As I said, I’m not good at writing a diary. There wasn’t much to write down anyway, apart from that I was send off again two days ago.
I wish I could care. I wish I would feel something when I kill someone, but I don’t. Not anymore.
I do about the people I am supposed to prepare to do the same thing I am doing right now. I’m showing them how to be an assassin, how to be a killer, a monster, and more than that.
I do care about their wellbeing. Just as I care about my comrades who are suffering in silence and darkness.
I care, but it’s different. I feel hollow.
It’s almost funny if it wasn’t so sad, but I miss my beast fighting with me, trying to get the upper hand. I miss shifting involuntarily and being locked away. But that’s not happening anymore. Because my beast and I are one. We always were. My beast was only fighting me because I wouldn’t accept what I have become, I wouldn’t accept its existence, and that it’s a part of me. And I do now. It’s the part of me that numbs the pain, which helps me not to care. Because if I cared, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
I must live with myself just a little longer. Because there are a few things I must set right, before I go down that road. I must find a way to set things right.
I have just returned from my last assassination, and I can’t shake off the feeling that I knew the guy. I had to know him because he had security, he was wearing a fancy suit, expensive, just like his watch and shoes. I think he was a government official. After all, I was in Washington D.C., and he had the pin of the American flag, the car, the security… I probably killed someone that was in the way of the people who made my curse happen. So, I did a bad, bad thing. And I don’t care.
It was far too easy, so either the security wasn’t well trained, or I have become even deadlier than I ever thought I could be. On my way, there I was given all the necessary information about the place, where it supposed to happen, and the security detail; where they were, where they would be and when my target would be out in the open. They gave me full authority about how I would execute the assignment as long as I would get the job done. So, I waited for them in the underground parking lot. Of course, only after knocking out the security guards and stopping the recording of the security cameras. Being able to shift into an indistinguishable creature isn’t as good as not being recorded at all. After that, everything else was a walk in the park. I’m just too fast. All I needed to do was
smashing the heads of the bodyguards against the frame of the car, get inside it and snap the guy’s neck. Job was done.
I don’t even recognize myself anymore.
I don’t know if Meghan is the only thing that keeps me myself, or if she is the reason I just choose to go on without caring anymore. I’m not blaming her, but I don’t deserve the happiness she gives to me. I never did, but now even less. It’s not her fault, again. It’s mine, it will always be mine, and even though Peter tells me it’s not my fault either, I still feel responsible for all of them because I was – I am – their commanding officer. I might not be the one who said ‘yes’ first, but if I had said ‘no,' how many would have followed in my tracks?
I will never know, but does it make a difference?
None of us should exist, and I must find a way to set things right again.
X X X
I’m back in my cell, and it is day No. 162 as I write this. I don’t know what do, I don’t know how to sort my mind, so, I just start at the beginning.
I just had put my diary aside and got ready to exercise as I always do, when I get restless. I don’t need a gym to torture my body; my cell does just fine.
It wasn’t Peter, who usually picked me up, it was the guy that used to stay guard in front of Meghan’s room. I think she called him ‘Grey’. He was just as silent as the guy was she described to me, so I guess it’s him. I don’t want to imagine what he has seen while being here, guarding rooms, escorting her to God knows where. But today he got to walk me through the compound, facial expression neutral, not afraid at all, I could smell it.
I didn’t recognize the way we were going. Grey led me deeper into the compound, past doors I knew which of my comrades and subordinates were behind, towards the door that was leading us into the area that was Valerie Winter’s territory. I expected him to bring me to Meghan’s hospital room, but instead heading for the lock he took another corner, leaving me confused, but still obediently following.
He escorted me to a door, swiped his wristband against the scanner as if the room was nothing more than another cell. I could hear the scratching of metal and bolts snapping back. This was another cell, but one I hadn’t visited yet; and I thought I’ve been to all of them, despite Torres and Wheeler.
The door in front of me opened automatically, which meant it wasn’t leading to the huge cage but to the cell, like the one I had, with bed, closet, and basin.
He was taking me to the private area of a beast, and I knew that I wouldn’t be happy if anyone dared to enter that sacred space of mine. I knew that there could be only two beasts behind that door – Nina Torres or Daniel Wheeler – and that they wouldn’t be lucky or prepared to see me. So, I prepared myself instinctively, ready to shift into my beast form to defend myself, because there would be no bars separating me – the intruder – to the beast that was living here.
The last thing I expected to see when the door fully opened, was her, Meghan. It was dark, but the full moon outside shed enough light for me to see her. The silvery and weak light shone onto her as if she was a marble statue, pristine, beautiful, and eternal. Just as she is for me.
“Jay!” Meghan squealed and jumped onto her feet on top of the bed and leaped into my arms from there.
If she had been human, she wouldn’t be able to jump this distance. I would have been worried if I hadn’t been so relieved to see her and wrap my arms around her the second she leapt against my chest. Instantly she brought her legs around my hips, gluing herself to my body. It felt so indescribably good. Her warm, soft body against mine made me realize that I had been hard and frozen until she wrapped herself around me.
I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but the second she placed lips against my neck, brushing them against my skin, she told me that “It’ okay,” whispering, “I’m okay.”
I felt so indescribably bad because I hadn’t worried about her. She was the only living beast I didn’t worry about, because – as far as I knew – she was the only one not suffering, even though it was me, who had put her in this position. And still, I felt as if I wanted to go down on my knees and just melt into her body so that I could forget everything.
She brought one of her hands to my neck and brushed it through my hair, pressing my face against her neck while she inhaled, deeply. I knew that, since she was turning into a beast, everything was new to her, and I would be in a way, too. And her reaction to taking in my scent was – well – palpable and physical. And, I couldn’t withstand it, as much as I wanted to.
Knowing how blind and desperate her need for me is, how helpless she seems to be when being exposed to me, is a relief and oh so perfect. And most of all, infecting.
It’s remarkable how pointless my intention is not to have sex with Meghan. No matter if I am in beast form or my human form, my sanity just switches off, and I don’t stand a chance against her, not when she wants me like that. Now, if she would be scared, now, if there would be any doubt in her eyes, things would be different, but she’s not; instead she wants me, the way I always wanted her.
The next thing I remember was me placing Meghan tenderly on her bed, her being completely naked, and I realized that my beast had already taken over as I still was trying to stand my ground against these pure instincts.
I was somewhere in between when I regained control over my body and tried my very best to do it different this time, because all Meghan knew about sex with me was that it was rough, animalistic and everything else than love making. I needed to show her that this could be different.
At least that. That it wasn’t just about having my way with her. So, I placed kisses all over her body, allowed my hands to roam across her skin, watching and listening to her reactions to what I did. Her sighs were followed by moans, followed by gasps, showing me that I did the right thing. Listening to these beautiful sounds… I could do that all day and be happy. I wouldn’t have to be inside her to find satisfaction. Even more so, seeing and sensing her writhe and tense, her fingers clawing into the sheets. I could hear the fabric tear, when I flicked tongue against her clit, once, then twice. I let my hands snake up her sides, purposefully taking time to reach and cup her breasts, gently at first and then… I just needed to show her that she was mine, at least then, because she loves it.
Meghan’s body tensed in return, her muscles twitching against my arms and mouth, again sighing this beautiful song of whines and moans, demanding that I would continue. And, of course, I did, pinching her hardened nipples pinch the very second my teeth found her clit.
“Please!” she begged, whiningly, urging me to continue her torture, and I did, while fighting against my beast to keep it contained.
This time I wanted it to be me, and only me, sending Meghan over the edge and into the arms of bliss, but it wouldn’t let me, and I couldn’t control it. I ended up in letting it out, hoping that Meghan wouldn’t notice and be scared away. But tasting her, hearing her euphoria was too much. I can control the beast on my own, but with her…
Much to my relief and shock Meghan seemed to enjoy it even more when I was using my fangs to torture the tender and soft flesh and didn’t mind feeling my claws on her, slightly grazing all over her body.
It was the combination of me and the beast that sent her over more than once. I had intended to shift back as soon as I could, but I was too aroused. I still wanted to feel her around me so badly, wanted to take her, make her mine. And those primal thoughts ruled my brains the entire time, even when I stopped to let her take a breath.
Meghan was panting widely, and I could see the goosebumps all over her beautiful body, chest heaving, her nipples standing hard, luring me in. I just knew when I continued, I would fuck her, just as the beast told me to, screaming in my head.
And then she sat up on her elbows.
Meghan sucked in the air at the sight of me, her body shivering, her eyes widening and I could just curse at myself. I was sure that this hadn’t been what she wanted, especially after I managed to start it differen
t this time. But, as I tried to bring space between us so that she could recover from the sight of me, Meghan reached out for me and stopped me dead as her hand touched my face and guided me back towards her. I was the moth to her flame, following her movement back onto the bed, closing in on her, so that I could devour her mouth again. I did my best not to hurt her, either with fangs or claws, the memory of how the scars on her stomach came to being the one thing that helped me use at least a fraction of reason.
Meghan’s hands brushed past my cheeks and dug into my hair, making me growl lowly from my throat and against her lips. The sound alone made her shiver, and I could feel a new wave of goosebumps beneath my hands, which she commented with a content hum.
I had to feel her skin against mine as much as possible, without smothering her with my weight. Her body was so cool against my hotter one, whispering to me to give her my warmth.
So, she wasn’t a beast yet, I thought. Because the body temperature of beasts is higher, just as wolves or dogs, and Meghan was shivering against me. Her freezing body is sucking me in, her hands snaking down from my face to the nape of my neck, down my shoulders, leaving a trail of cold – or was this just my imagination?
I couldn’t think straight, just had moments of clarity when I was threatening to hurt her, how can I be sure?
Her hands on my chest, my abdomen, turned it all into a haze of need and longing, finding a silent agreement with my beast to find a way in between. And just when I was sure that I could keep the full change at bay, Meghan teased me, running her tongue across my lower lip and slide it into my mouth as I couldn’t help but slightly opened it. My own tongue was welcoming hers eagerly, and a sound broke from my throat that was neither a sigh nor a growl, but something close to a purr.
The BeAst Of Me (The Beast And Me Book 5) Page 5