Love Hurts: The Killing of Rose

by Holly Hood

  “Well if you ever remember.” He pushed a napkin across the table with his number on it. “Give me a call.” He stood, giving her his famous smile before leaving her in the café completely gob smacked.

  Sam walked quickly, turning the corner and giving his surroundings one more look before he ran to his car. Frankie waited for a response to how the stakeout went.

  “She has no clue who I am.” He started the car and quickly pulled down the alley and back onto the street.

  “I guess it paid to stay away from dad for so long,” Frankie said. “If Elcina doesn’t know who you are it will make things a lot easier. Get rid of her and we can be on our way.”

  Sam shook his head. “I’m not getting rid of anyone. I’ll bring her to him and that’s as far as it will go.”

  Frankie laughed. “He’d kill you if you killed her before he got his hands on her.”

  Sam shook his head in agreement. “What do you think he wants to do with her?”

  Frankie shrugged. “See that’s where you and I differ. I don’t think about that part. It keeps me from being engaged to annoying girls with trust issues, like you.”

  “She didn’t have trust issues until I lied to her, Frankie.” Sam argued.

  “She had trust issues because someone in her family is screwed up. These things just don’t happen in a matter of a day. You give yourself too much credit. She’s not as perfect as you think she is.” Frankie raised an eyebrow. “Nobody is perfect.”

  Sam looked at him. “For a guy who says they don’t like to feel you sure know a lot about emotions and feelings.”

  Frankie rolled his eyes.

  Words

  Sam was a trustworthy kind of guy. People counted on him in the past. Currently he had nobody to be trustworthy for. But when he did he loved it. He loved feeling wanted, having someone look to him for comfort or safety. That was just the type of person he was. He wanted someone to care about.

  It might have been his fault that he lost that. But now he just wanted that again.

  He took a seat at the edge of his bed where Delaney slept. She didn’t want to be there resting in his room—or in his house. She wanted to be far away from him. She wanted nothing to do with him ever again. He didn’t blame her. He deceived her beyond repair.

  He reached out and touched her, trailing his fingers down her leg, happy to be touching her even if it was the last time, his last chance to enjoy her. Soon she would be far away, probably living a life she always dreamed. With a husband that truly was good. With kids and things he wished he could give her. Things he wanted to give her. His hand stopped moving as soon as she groaned and opened her gorgeous green eyes. She stayed still, staring at him. He studied her features. She wasn’t upset by his touch, she seemed okay with it. He pulled away. She immediately lifted herself from the bed, taking his hand back before he could get away from her.

  Sam stared into her eyes in agony.

  Delaney touched his face, the instinctive urge to make him happy pushing her. She couldn’t fight it. She felt his fingers curl around hers and her heart settled down in her chest. She loved him. She would always love him even if he was a bad person.

  Sam touched her face, brushing the tears that were falling. “Why are you crying?” he asked gently.

  “This hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt before. Even if I wanted to hate you it’s impossible for me to do that.” She dropped her head, sobbing.

  Sam pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin, he squeezed her tight. “I deserve it.”

  He stared off. “And soon enough you can start over and stop thinking about all the pain I caused you. I don’t want you to be sad, Delaney. I love you.”

  Delaney pulled away. She cupped Sam’s face with her hand, pulling him close. She kissed him with a surprising amount of passion, rising to her knees. Sam ran his thumbs against the sides of her face, shocked that this was occurring, her kisses mixing with the taste of her tears.

  He kissed her slowly and gently. She undid her shirt, dropping back on the bed, offering herself to him. Sam pulled away.

  “What do I have to lose?” she asked, looking up at Sam’s puzzled expression. She guided his hands to her stomach, closing her eyes at the touch of his hands on her skin.

  “A lot. Are you sure you need to be doing this?” Sam wasn’t like most guys who would without delay act on Delaney’s offer. He wanted her badly, he always had, but this wasn’t the way he saw things turning out. Would she go away even after they were intimate? How could it be considered making love if she had fallen out of love?

  Delaney brought him back to the moment. “I want you.”

  She planted a kiss on his lips again, working her way down his neck, making his mind cloud and his regrets a thing of the past. Delaney wriggled free from her pants. She pulled Sam close, breathing in his scent, the familiar butterflies swarming her stomach. She caressed his hair, enjoying him like she used to before she had been torn by so many complications.

  Sam laced his fingers with hers bringing them above her head, her hair tangling against the side of her face. She looked beautiful. He nibbled her neck, his lips meshing with her jaw line, her collarbone, all the way to her breast. He grazed his tongue against them, his warm lips exciting her. She tugged at his hair, guiding his head, goosebumps magically appearing on her skin as he slipped farther and farther down.

  Sam’s hands slipped back up her body. He watched her expression as he laid each kiss on her skin. He was intoxicated by her. He couldn’t begin to explain the rush he had when he was with her. He wasn’t going to stop until he gave her what she had wanted all this time.

  Painful memories ripped through his mind, flashing him back to a screaming girl. She was petrified of him, trying to get away as he did horrifying things to her.

  Sam shook the image from his mind, kissing Delaney again. He ignored the past. He was just going to give her what she wanted at the moment.

  Sam loomed over her delicate frame. Her porcelain skin looked flawless. The sleek curve of her waist on top of his navy blue comforter, he had to have her. She raised her arms welcoming him. He moved in, feeling Delaney’s legs part before he had the chance to do so himself. She was ready. She wasn’t afraid of him.

  She wanted nothing more than the moment they were in. “I trust you.” She whispered in his ear, her head falling back on the pillow. She gripped his shoulders an insignificant pang of fear taking over as he entered her. Fear quickly turned to satisfaction. Sam moved slowly, kissing her mouth gently. He was being careful with her and she knew this was the Sam she remembered and cared about.

  “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said to her, waiting for anything at all to happen.

  “This is what I’ve wanted for so long.” She wriggled beneath him not allowing him to take it easy on her. The slight jerk of her hips pushed him farther into the moment. He worked harder, enjoying every second between them, the glorious sound of her voice as she cried out. Sam pressed his face against hers as she convulsed around him. He kissed her sweetly. Her hands held kept him close and urged him to go on.

  “This is what I want. Don’t stop,” she said breathless, refusing to let him back out before he was content. Sam grudgingly tried to keep on. He was afraid of harming her. Delaney suddenly pushed into him, stopping him from continuing. She led him to the chair in the corner of the room. Pushing him down and climbing on top, taking control.

  Sam smiled, dropping back, he held tightly to her waist. Watching her body move, it was beautiful. He caressed her breast, his hands working their way down to her thighs, until his entire body was writhing in desire and pain all at the same time. He needed release, but it scared the life out of him.

  Delaney moved more rapidly. Sam’s fingertips dug into her backside, his head dropping against her, his teeth bearing down on her flesh. She didn’t give up, she kept going until he released. Sam stood, throwing her backwards onto the floor unconsciously. He rushed from the room, slamming the bathroom
door. Delaney jumped at the sound of glass shattering. He let out a loud groan.

  She hurriedly dressed herself, concerned for him. Afraid for what he was going through. It was probably her fault. She hurried to the bathroom door, knocking cautiously.

  “Sam?” She called. He wasn’t Vance any longer to her. But this for some reason did not bother her. She just wanted to know that he was alright. She pressed her ear to the door—silence.

  Sam sat on the bathroom floor, writhing in agony. His fist clenched, his mind telling him to do horrible things, his body screaming out. Like a ravenous animal who only wanted more, desperate and anxious.

  His feet resting by shards of glass, some underneath the soles of his feet, he didn’t care.

  “Just give me a few minutes,” he said, trying to control the tone of his voice. His muscles tense. “I need a few minutes.”

  Delaney sighed. “I want to help, babe.”

  Sam bit down on his lip, closing his eyes, waiting for the next current of fury and rage to subside, his heart pumping horribly fast. Where was the euphoric rush he was used to?

  “There’s nothing you can do. Just give me a few minutes.”

  Delaney backed away from the door. She lifted his pants from the floor and folded them quietly, next his shirt. She finished with the quick task and crawled into bed. Turning on the television and found a way to calm her racing thoughts. He was part Incubus. He was in the bathroom in pain because his body was telling him to kill her. To feed off of her and now he was fighting it. The best moment in her life quite possibly was the worst for Sam.

  ***

  Frankie opened the refrigerator of his brother’s stylish home. Stainless steel appliances, marble countertops, it was all too excessive for him. He grabbed a funny shaped water from inside the refrigerator, spinning on his heels to a miserable looking Dylan.

  “Buck up,” he said twisting the cap. He sat the water in front of Dylan. She wasn’t bucking up. “What could be better than this?”

  Dylan lifted her head, giving Frankie a look. One he didn’t like.

  “I know your upset with me. You don’t have to try and ignore the truth.” She wasn’t one to feel awkward, but sitting in some rich guy’s house with Frankie was proving difficult. She didn’t want to imagine what Frankie truthfully thought of her. She was pretty upset with herself for what she had done. Frankie slapped his hand down on the marble counter.

  “So you sold me out.” He shrugged lazily. “You wouldn’t be the first girl to disappoint me.”

  She wasn’t buying his blasé attitude to her treachery.

  “It shows you have balls.”

  “But now you don’t trust me. Or even like me I’m sure.” She looked at Frankie for an answer. He didn’t even give her a simple hint.

  Frankie took a sip of the water, scrunching his nose at the taste—plain non alcoholic. He tossed the water in the sink. It rattled the stray silverware before settling in the garbage disposal. He grabbed his brother’s large crystal vat of whiskey or whatever he was drinking nowadays and poured himself some.

  “How long do you think this will take before we can leave?” Dylan asked once she figured out Frankie wasn’t giving in so easily.

  Frankie leaned against the counter. That was a good question. It all depended on his brother. And judging by the sounds coming from the other room it was going to take a long time. Sam was getting what he wanted—Delaney. It was going to be very tricky for him to string along Elcina now. But he wasn’t going to tell Dylan this. He had better things in store for her.

  Anyone willing to throw him to the wolves deserved to go through a little hell before they were forgiven—if he ever did forgive them.

  “What are you staring at?” Dylan asked, a bit uneasy by the sick smirk plastered on Frankie’s face as he looked at her lost in thought.

  “Oh nothing,” He smiled.

  ***

  Amarus enjoyed the night. The dark shadows, the pale moon and its translucent cloud, the sounds of all the night creatures, the bugs. The simple eccentricity of the entire environment, to some, they all might seem a bit disturbing, but to him it was like he was at home.

  “Sir,” Arnold, one of his servants more or less, entered the room. “They have arrived.” Arnold ran a hand down the front of his jacket, his eyes darting quickly away from Amarus. He knew the power he held and he was deathly afraid of him. He was human and simply brainwashed to stick around.

  Amarus looked past Arnold to the redhead and the dark haired Spanish girl. They would do.

  “No blondes, Arnold?” he asked, coming closer to the two of them. He waved them past the threshold into the room. “You know how fond of blondes I am.”

  The redhead respectfully took a seat. But the Spanish girl was nervous and scared. Amarus could smell the fear on her. He liked them feisty. He loved a good fight before he ended them. He wasn’t able to go out on his own and search out fresh woman to feed on. So he had to count on his minions to do his dirty work.

  “I thought you said this guy was a photographer?” The Spanish one asked Arnold. Arnold lifted a tray from the table carrying it over. He offered her the glass of water. She hostilely waved a hand at him, “No, thanks.”

  Amarus studied her closely, his eyes perusing the entire length of her body, ending at her knee high black leather boots. “Those are nice boots. I’ve always liked a woman who knows how to dress.” She met his gaze, drawn to him like a magnet. Arnold smiled. Relieved he didn’t have to see another bloody struggle arise. At least tonight his boss was willing to take what he wanted much simpler. He hated to try and remove blood from the tapestry.

  Amarus took her awaiting hand. “You’re beautiful. Tell me your name.”

  “Esmeralda,” she said in awe, in her eyes Amarus was the most amazing man she had ever seen. She saw nothing but what he wanted her to see. Amarus touched her face, his eyes lighting up at the smooth flawless skin of this girl before him.

  “And what is your friend’s name?” He kissed her cheek, his eyes drifting to the red head with the more than enough bosom.

  “That’s Maggie.” Esmeralda told him. She eagerly waited for his next move.

  Amarus lifted the water offering it to Esmerelda. “Sit. Drink and get comfortable. I will be back soon for you.” He followed Arnold from the room. Arnold tugged the large doors shut, closing the girls off so they couldn’t try and escape. He didn’t have his running shoes on tonight and he didn’t want to go back out and find two more for the boss. It was hard enough being human and trying to lure young girls back to Amarus’ place. He wasn’t that great looking a guy. Most nights he made up lies about being a modeling scout and picked the flashiest girl to persuade to come home with him. It wasn’t hard. Most girls in bars were hoping to be discovered. And lots of them were willing to allow Amarus to put his hands all over them in hopes of fame and fortune.

  “My sons, have we any new information?” Amarus asked, studying himself in his mirror. He patted down his black hair, plucking a gray strand. One that if not for the blasted curse would never have shown its face. He was forever thirty five. But curses did wonders on dna. And even botox wouldn’t stop a man with a curse placed on him by a deadly demon from aging. Elcina was the answer.

  Arnold cleared his throat. “Well sir. The guys confirmed Sam and Frankie met up with Elcina. It seemed she didn’t know who he was. I think they are on track.”

  Amarus nodded content with Arnold’s findings. “Send them upstairs. And keep the old lady downstairs until I am done. Have her bake some of those wretched cookies or something.” He slowly climbed the staircase.

  Arnold watched him. He smirked. Amarus’ old lady was totally ignorant to his night visitors. He kept her around to do his chores: laundry, cooking and sex when he couldn’t find anyone better. The woman was living on borrowed time. Her body ravaged from Amarus draining the life out of her. Sometimes Arnold couldn’t help but chuckle when the once beautiful woman hobbled past him in an apron. And that on
e cloudy eye that seemed too wander off when she was looking at you. It made him shudder every time.

  Left field

  Frankie pushed open Sam’s bedroom door with his toe. Half shielding his eyes from any ungodly sights he was about to lay eyes on—his naked brother being the worst of those. Delaney sat up as soon as he entered the room. She fixed her hair and tugged her camisole in place.

  “Where is he?” Frankie asked, taking a bite of the bowl of fruit loops he was holding. “After what I heard I can’t see him just taking off.”

  Delaney’s cheeks burned. Frankie wasn’t afraid to speak the truth. “He never came out of the bathroom. I know he is okay I tapped on the door a couple times. But he won’t come out.” She watched Frankie. He handed over his bowl of cereal. He lifted a file from the dresser. She watched him carefully unlock the door, but didn’t get up. She was afraid to look at him.