Before she lost the nerve to go through with her clandestine meeting, Alyvia turned away from her aging reflection. Age-spotted hands twisted the shower knobs until a force of hot water engulfed her body.
Zane entered the adjoining bedroom, slamming the door so she knew someone was there. A satisfying squeak came from the bathroom before her voice poured out as thick and as smooth as warm milk and honey.
“Victor, darling, you’re early. Be a sweetheart and light a fire. I’ll be out in a bit.”
Zane didn’t answer as he moved to secure the killing field. Alyvia took her time scrubbing her body and preparing for something she believed she would enjoy as he stacked wood into the fireplace. Intrigued by the way the woman enjoyed the fear of rejection even as she invited it into her bed, Zane found himself gently caressing his own need to give her pain.
This death will be special. I will take great satisfaction from watching the mighty queen fall from her throne. By the time the eighteen-year-old golf caddy arrives, all that will be waiting for him is a cold body to match Alyvia’s cold heart.
He lit the fire and positioned the props for his little game perfectly. It wouldn’t take much to destroy Vega’s shallow mother—a full-length mirror and her own insecurities had nearly done it for him a thousand times.
Posed comfortably in a high-backed arm chair, Zane gathered the heat from the budding flames into himself and waited. He could have called her, forced her to come. Instead, he chose to let the expectancy of pain and pleasure build inside them both.
Zane plucked at Alyvia’s inner barriers as she showered, teasing those areas of the brain that produced anxiety, self-doubt, and fear. By the time she opened the shower door, framed by billowing steam, her hands shook, and her bottom lip trembled. The nervous feeling in her stomach left her with the sensation she was nothing but a hollow shell of a woman.
Her attention shifted to the counter top, and suddenly, the black negligee, garters, and stockings seemed too frivolous for a woman of her age. The mass of beauty products lining the sink became poisons in her head, and she saw herself as a fallen beauty hiding behind the mask of a clown.
Yet, something forced her to touch the flimsy material, to slip the garments over her clean skin, and to smear the makeup on to her face with an expert’s precision. On weakened knees, she stood on six-inch-hooker-heels and glided from the steam-filled bathroom.
Through her thoughts, Zane saw himself as Alyvia did. His profile, against the light of the fire, made him appear mysterious and alluring. The lust that had brought her to the shaming moment infiltrated their shared senses until she was dizzy with it.
Her voice was a kitten’s purr as she rolled the name in a seductive whisper. “Victor?”
Zane turned so she could see his face. Her outrage and embarrassment whipped at him like daggers from her eyes.
“You little bastard! What are you doing here? Get out of my house before I call the cops!”
Voice warm and flirtatious, he teased, “Come now, Alyvia. Isn’t this what you want, a young stranger in your bed?”
Zane slipped from the chair and approached, careful to move slowly, so she did not try to bolt. He took his time crossing the room, allowing the tentacle to deepen its reach in her mind. Though his power was wrapping her brain like a roll of barbed wire, he did not pull the strings. More than anything, he wanted to make her want him. He wanted her to beg for her own death.
Her pouty lips trembled, and her eyes sparked with tears. “Get out. I swear to God, I will have you thrown in jail, you little pervert.”
Zane smiled, taking the last step to close the distance between them. Body leaned as near as he could without touching her flesh, he let the warmth of his breath tease the lobe of her ear and the curve of her neckline.
“A-ly-vi-a, don’t you want me?” he whispered in a hushed and passionate tone.
Her eyes widened as he leaned backward and peeled off the tight t-shirt, exposing toned muscles and a deep v-cut. Zane almost laughed at the way her gaze roamed his body with hunger and her thoughts turned to tasting his flesh beneath her lips.
Each time a new desire fired through the link, he mimicked her imaginings. Teeth biting his lip, he stared at her mouth as if he could spend an eternity kissing her breathless. With the caution of an inexperienced lover, he reached out and let his fingers linger a breath away from her trembling flesh.
Alyiva should have been afraid, he could sense the alarms sounding in her mind, but her desire pushed her beyond rationality. All her fantasies had presented themselves in the flesh, and she couldn’t turn from them. Instead, her hands ran greedily up his chest, pressing gently to make sure she was not dreaming.
As soon as she touched him, Zane sent a terrible thought into her mind.
I am about screw a stranger, and I don’t even know his name. What have I become? I am little better than a whore. But I won’t stop. I can’t. She couldn’t hold back the tears, and they slipped down her flushed cheeks to drip onto her heaving breast.
Zane followed the progress with his eyes, and the site of her flesh covered in chill bumps and sweat gave him great pleasure. “Do you want me, Alyvia? Will you let me do things to your body no other has?”
She turned her head in an attempt to capture his mouth with hers as she whispered, “Yes.”
Zane stepped out of the reach of her hungry lips and snapped the line connecting her brain to his. “You have chosen poorly, Alyvia. The only reason you are still alive after all these years of bedroom games is no other man would do what I will.”
Her body stiffened, and his fierce laughter filled the space.
Shock made her sound even older than her already advancing years. “What are you doing? How are you doing this? You let me go. I have company coming. You can’t hurt me. You’ll get caught. Your fingerprints are everywhere. Victor will be here any minute.”
“No, you told Victor to come after eleven. It’s only ten fifteen. I have lots of time with you. Forty-five minutes is an eternity when you are facing all the horrors you gave your daughter. You are going to pay for killing her.” The gentleness had faded from his voice, replaced by hard steel.
Zane forced her body to turn toward the mirror. In the glow of the firelight, many of her imperfections were hidden. However, Alyvia’s perception was a matter of the mind, and it was the mind he controlled.
Even as she begged, even as she stood fearing for her life, Alyvia admired herself in the glass. “I didn’t kill Vega. I may not have been the best mother, but she was a difficult child. She’s the one that overdosed on drugs you probably gave her.”
Zane didn’t care about her protest or pleas of innocence. “Look at yourself, Alyvia. Look at what you have become.”
He showed her the way she had looked at eighteen, all long legs and perky breasts. Her eyes roamed the image of how she pretended to see herself now, trying hard to ignore the terrible onslaught of her years.
Seeing the lines fade from her face and her skin glow, she smiled. However, her pleasure quickly changed to horror as Zane sped the hands of time, and the smooth surface of the reflection’s skin began to sag and wrinkle. The blonde hair turned gray. The hips widened, the teeth yellowed, and her vivid green eyes faded to the color of dying moss.
His words were shards of ice sliding down her spine. “Do you see yourself behind the wall of illusion? You are old, Alyvia. Those men only wanted you so they could laugh behind your back. Yet, you paraded yourself around as if you were a goddess.
“You hated Vega from the beginning, didn’t you? You resented what pregnancy did to your body, and you loathed the attention others lavished on your beautiful child. Most of all, you despised watching her become more stunning every year as your face cracked and your body crumbled.”
She whimpered. Her denials, like drops of rain on summer asphalt, fizzled away before they could find purchase. “I loved her. I tried to be a good mother. You don’t understand. You don’t have children.”
An
ger made the tentacle twist inside her skull, causing the pain to begin. “Neither do you, Alyvia. Your child is dead. You pushed her away, abandoned her, and made her feel ugly and unwanted. Your evil blinded her until she saw no hope.”
A breathless gasp fell from Alyvia’s lips as the agony ripped into her skin, and she begged. “I did not. She killed herself. I swear I loved her. I am her mother.”
He pulled out her memories, the ones he had chosen especially for the moment. “You were her enemy, not her mother. Now, come with me, Alyvia. We are running out of time.”
Zane led her away, and though her movements were stiff from the weight of his control, she followed voluntarily. Outside the room, they stood on the landing like lovers in a Shakespearean play.
With a sweet, sexy smile, Zane said, “I have something for you.”
Alyvia forgot to be afraid. “A present?”
“Yes, a necklace of sorts.” He lifted the rope from the floor and slipped a carefully tied noose over her head. She smiled as if he had presented her with the queen’s diamonds as he tightened the knot.
With a step back, he pretended to admire her. “You are not worthy of its beauty.”
She had no time to respond at the false adoration combined with the violent tone of his words. Images slammed into her mind in full, techno color 3-D. She saw herself slapping a ten-year-old Vega in the face.
In the vision, Alyvia had hissed, “Diamonds and pearls aren’t meant for grubby, ugly little girls.” As the child ran from the room crying, Alyvia had laughed.
The image faded, and an invisible hand smacked against the woman’s cheek had enough to leave a welt as another squeezed her heart.
Zane leaned against the banister, one eyebrow arched in a cocky and knowing expression. “Do you feel the pain your child felt?”
Unable to answer as the ache left her and her body convulsed against another memory, the woman wept.
The next vision revealed a much younger Alyvia, dressed in her wedding finery. In search of Vega, she had stepped into a room to find her soon-to-be-husband embracing her fourteen-year-old daughter.
Their actions had been innocent, a father expressing his love for the child he never thought he’d have. But Alyvia had nearly choked on the thickness of her hate and jealousy as she stormed in, throwing harsh and disgusting accusations at the people who loved her most.
Michael’s insistence that he had only been trying to comfort the child’s bruised heart had infuriated Alyvia more. Filled with rage, she had grabbed for Vega’s hair but missed when the child tried to dodge. Gold painted nails had raked down innocent flesh, leaving a trail of bloody welts from brow to cheek.
Seeing what she had done, and the look of horror on Michael’s face, Alyvia had collapsed into hysterical tears. Michael had held them both for a moment, trying to calm his fiancé and her daughter before he was forced to leave the room to find assistance for Vega’s wounds.
Turning to her daughter, the remorse had vanished. “If you ever come near him again, you little slut, I will do more than just claw your face. You will never be half the woman I am.”
Alyvia blinked as her eyes focused on the stairwell and Zane once more, and the past faded away. The shame she felt painted her cheeks and neck red. Her mouth opened to explain, but there she had no words to justify her actions after seeing herself so clearly. As if a large cat had taken a swipe at her, invisible claws dug into her face just as the barbs inside her mind twisted.
Her head tossed to the side, and her back arched in the throes of her torment, causing her to thrust her breasts against Zane as he stepped forward. He loosened the coils in her mind and very slowly eased the pain. Relieved and exhausted, she fell forward against him.
Her childish whimpers reminded him of many other women over the years. They had all treated anything and anyone weaker than themselves with vicious malice but had become mewling kittens when he’d stepped into their lives.
Zane’s lips grazed her ear as he softly murmured, “Look at what you have done, remember all your sins against your child, and realize everyone knows. They all tell jokes at your expense every time your back is turned. The whispers at the club, the strange looks at parties, and the way the staff shy away when you come near. Those actions are all because they recognize you for what you are.
“You are old and in social ruin, Alyvia, but I can make it all go away. Do you want it to go away, dear? All you have to do is climb the banister and let go. It won’t hurt anymore. You will be forever remembered as vibrant and beautiful, no more growing old. Just let it all go, Alyvia.”
She did as he said and climbed until she sat on the thin railing, facing him.
Zane stepped up and captured her eyes. “Are you ready, Alyvia?”
She sobbed, and her body teetered until her hands locked down with a white-knuckled grip on the banister. “No. I don’t want to die. I’m sorry. I will be good. I will be better. I’m sorry.”
The emptiness in his voice sent visions of hollow pits into her mind as the tentacle tightened and forced her to place her hands into her lap. Leaving her precariously balancing between life and death, Zane gave her the final reminder of why she did not deserve mercy.
“Sorry will not bring back your daughter. It will not take back Vega’s pain, and it will not undo your final act of cruelty. Nothing can remove the final knife in your child’s heart.”
The memory, crystal clear but brief, shattered the woman’s mind.
Alyvia watched it replay as she screamed for mercy, unsure if her words could be heard. She saw herself standing on the back patio with Briton smiling down at her, hot lust on his face. Just beyond his broad shoulders, Vega approached.
Alyvia had thought to herself, Perfect timing.
Slipping her hands around the boy’s neck, Alyvia had pulled his mouth to hers, and Briton’s hands had moved to cup her body with familiarity. Vega had screamed as her heart had broken, Briton had turned in shock, and Alyvia had felt the ultimate satisfaction.
Zane didn’t give her time to fade slowly back to him. As soon as the images cleared, he slammed her with pain. Every vein in her body heated up as if her heart magnitudes of hot lava pumped through her limbs. He made her skin feel as if it were bubbling, preparing to blister and explode. Yet, when she searched for burns, there was no sign of damage, not a single flaw.
Zane’s voice became the only reality. “Let go and end this, Alyvia. I can go all night.”
Her body plummeted backward, one black stiletto flying wildly through the air as she went. The banister cracked under the weight of as the rope jerked, breaking her slender neck. Zane counted to three, waiting for the asphyxiation to do its job. When she neared the end, he kicked the fractured railing, sending pieces flying outward. Alyvia’s body fell in a lifeless heap to the marble floor below.
He watched for a moment as blood seeped beneath her messy blonde curls. The strands soaked up the crimson liquid, and the contrasting colors reminded him Vega with her auburn highlights. The sadness sneaking under his veneer of hate nudged him to finish what he had begun.
Not bothering with the stairs, he leapt down and landed within inches of his victim’s body. Pinching her face between thumb and forefinger, Zane looked deep within Alyvia’s fading eyes and took her last breath into his body.
The last of her life became his, and he released her face to let her head fall back to the bloody floor. Zane felt more alive than he could ever remember being. Of course, he always felt that way when he was full of dying souls. Their restless energy spun through him like a hurricane of turmoil and injustice. Their evil fed the demon inside.
Lost in the powerful physical and emotional high, he almost didn’t hear the car door outside. As the muted sounds filtered through his brain, Zane bolted for the backdoor, avoiding having an innocent’s blood on his hands and dying breath on his lips. He did not work that way.
Chapter Four
Zane sat in the small coffee shop, listening intently to the thoug
hts and voices of Oaksdale’s busy bodies. According to all he heard, his plan had worked flawlessly. The bodies were found within an hour of each other.
Chief Martin had told his wife, in strict confidence, they’d discovered evidence of a lengthy affair between Briton Hadley and Alyvia Bellator. Of course, Mary Martin had rushed right out to tell Beatrice Jones and her sister, Lucy. She had sworn both women to secrecy, but obviously they had to tell their closest friends.
By early afternoon, everyone Zane touched with his power thought of nothing else. The whole town understood the secrets Vega Williams had known. Their hearts filled with regret, sorrow, and pity each time they thought of the poor young woman who had fallen victim to a twisted family affair. Those feelings flowed through the connection into him, and he knew the time had come.
Zane felt as if the very core of his soul had been gnawed on by the fiendish hounds of hell. Raw and exposed, his grief for yet another failed existence ate away at him. The infernal sun blazed for too long, taunting him. He longed for the comfort of the night, and the promise awaiting him there. Not even the fleeting feeling of triumph could chase away the shadows of impatience from his heart.
He left the coffee shop, a styrofoam cup filled with espresso in his hand. Walking past his motorcycle, he allowed his sneaker clad feet to carry him through the streets without knowledge of direction. He turned and twisted through the neighborhoods and back alleys, seeing the world as if looking through a dirty window pane on a rainy day. Everything lost all clarity, nothing had a solid shape. His mind focused on one desire, to end his menial existence.
Zane wandered, feeling haunted and lost, until the sky began to fill with an array of orange, pink, and purple hues. The first star, a tiny pinprick of light, hung in the sky like a lone adventurer pressing through the fading day. The promise of nightfall steered him with purpose. Winding quickly through the off-beaten paths of the city, he sought out his destiny, his final release.
Death Eater Complete Collection Page 3