Page 20

Alora

Three nights, and each one the same. Other than killing another guy like Jon and ending the night bawling in his arms while he bathed me. Greyson treated me like a canvas and painted my body with different colors and designs before I was strung up and edged to the point of insanity.

Greyson seemed to get off on watching as he brought me to the very brink of an orgasm and then left me like that. My body ached, my pussy throbbed, and the level of anger that coursed through me at wanting the release was toxic.

That was until tonight. Now, it was as if he’d decided that the best torture was to give me what I wanted. It was rounding on midnight, and I’d lost count of my many orgasms after the first ten. My body twitched, and my muscles spasmed as the remnants of the latest round still ebbed throughout my body like an electrical current.

Lifting my head felt like a chore, and as I did, all I saw was the smile on Greyson’s face. Evil, he was fucking evil, and the worst of it was, I was starting to enjoy his fucked-up game. Seeing his face each morning made my heart race.

Right from the start, he had affected me in a strange way, but now…now it was as if those emotions were intensified. The fear was amped up, but so was my interest and desire. God help me. There was something far deeper than any of those chaining itself to my heart.

The people in the packed bar and the loud music faded into the background. It was as if we were the only two in this place. Not even the scent of alcohol stirred me like it once had. I’d thought that alcohol was bad enough, but there was only one thing I craved now, and I needed a therapist, a white jacket, and a padded fucking cell to battle this demon. Fuck, I doubted that would work. Not only would four walls not stop my mind from thinking of him and the way he touched me, but Greyson would find a way to sneak in. I could already picture him in the white orderly uniform, a stark contrast to his soul. Then every opportunity he got, he would fuck me, and I couldn’t even say I’d scream for help.

He cocked his head as he stared at me like he was reading my thoughts and ran his thumb over his bottom lip. Everything tightened. It didn’t matter that my body felt used and abused or that I genuinely didn’t know if it was humanly possible or even healthy to climax this much. All I could picture was him kneeling before me, using his talented tongue to make me come.

Greyson smiled as I shuddered, then turned to serve a group that walked up to the bar, giving me a moment to breathe. I glanced up at my hand. It was still bandaged but healing quickly. There were certain things he did that surprised me like nothing else could.

I expected the pain, the mental torture, and even the sexual desire. But last night, he sat me on the couch while he cleaned and redressed my hand, telling me how he was pre-med in college. Who the fuck took pre-med so they knew how to dismember a body? Or, in my experience, learned how to pump a stomach and stab a hand without doing permanent damage. Shit, I wanted to take a cooking class to make cupcakes. Like, what the actual fuck? Talk about life goals, as messed up as they were.

Keeping just my feet tied, I’d sat in the kitchen as he made dinner and showed me where everything was to start my online classes. He did this shirtless, of course, and why couldn’t he be a bridge troll? Why? Because God hated me, the Devil was trying to tempt me to skip along the path to hell, and it was working. Greyson was eye candy to the point that I got a cavity staring at him all night long.

We even talked like we were a couple, which…sadly, talking to a serial killer like a lover was not the strangest thing to happen to me in my life. The entire time, I couldn’t stop staring. His arms flexed with each cut he made to the onion, and when he peeled shrimp for gumbo, my mouth watered. He had abs that could be played like an instrument and an ass that…well, no one person should be graced with an ass that perfect. It was unfair. He reminded me of stunning flowers that lured their prey with the promise of a delicious meal, only to become the meal themselves. To top it off, his food was incredible.

Would it always be like this? Was he ever going to set me free? And even if he did, would I actually be free? What did that word even mean anymore? And did I want to leave? I couldn’t answer those questions. If anything, all Greyson did was add more questions to the top of the fucked-up pile.

“Hey,” a girl yelled, and I jerked as the word pulled me out of my thoughts. “Watch it. You fucking stepped on my shoe,” the same girl said as she glared at another girl.

“Whatever,” the second girl answered and continued to dance.

“You can at least apologize. These are expensive,” the first girl said, grabbing the other one by the shoulder. They were both swaying and heavily intoxicated. I could see this going sideways very quickly. Sure enough, a moment later, a fight broke out, which extended to the group of guys they had each come with.

I wanted to jump behind the protection of the metal grate I was attached to as a stool was picked up and hurled inches from my face. Flattening myself as much as I could, I turned my head and prayed I didn’t become collateral damage.

“Get those guys out of here,” Greyson’s voice roared over the music as something warm pressed against me. I opened my eyes and saw Greyson standing like a wall in front of me, protecting me from the last two guys remaining, who were throwing punches and rolling around on the floor. More bouncers joined the fray and dragged the two guys away. I could hear the girls screaming blame, but as quickly as it started, everything simmered down again.

Greyson slowly turned around and tipped my chin as he looked me over. “Did anything hit you? Did any of them touch you?” I shook my head. “So, no injuries?” I shook my head again. “Good.” He leaned closer to my ear, and the heat from his body soaked into me like a warm blanket. I reacted to his nearness as goosebumps rose along my skin, making me shiver as much as a cool breeze. “You make me so fucking hard. I can’t wait to get you home and….” He groaned in my ear, and every last nerve ending lit up. “Is your pussy clenching the toy while you think of me? Are you soaking wet with a need that will only be quenched with my cock?”

He pulled back, our noses almost touching. Staring into his eyes, I couldn’t lie. Even if I did, he’d proven he could see through me, so I nodded. The corner of his mouth tugged up.

“Excellent, because I’m going to fill this tight pussy of yours again tonight. Maybe two or three times.”

He pushed away, fixed the rope, and walked back to the bar as he shook hands and smiled at those waiting for him. I was acutely aware of the attention he garnered from women and men who wanted to find out what was in his jeans. I closed my eyes and looked away as the stupid jealousy gripped me. I was losing my mind. No…I was losing the last tattered pieces of my soul to a man who wanted to devour it after he rolled around in my blood and chewed on my bones.

Greyson

I needed to take the next step with Alora. She was coming around. I could see it as she fought off the coil of darkness that lived in her. More than fear flashed behind her pretty blue eyes. She would look away or push it aside, but the longing was there.

The question became, what was the next logical step? Fucking her, sure, but that was still only sex. When I removed the shackles, she needed to choose to stay. Choose to embrace who she was. But how to keep her was lost on me. Killing was easy, this…well, this was new.

“What can I get you to drink,” I asked the next customer.

“How much to get a tall drink of you,” the girl asked. I pegged her for a tourist immediately. Tourists had an air to them that locals didn’t, and she had the thickest Texan accent I’d ever heard. A girl on the dance floor with a Bride to Be sash yelled, “Get me what you’re having.” I smirked as she turned bright red.

“I don’t think she knows what I’m ordering for the night.” I leaned on the bar, and she fanned at her face. “They certainly make them fine around these parts.”

“Unfortunately, my dance card is full tonight. But why don’t I give you one on the house, and you make sure to check out our souvenir section. You won’t find anything else like those items in the entire city. I can promise you that,” I said, grabbing the fireball whiskey and pouring her a shot. I shoved it across the bar, and she smiled as she took it and downed it before letting out a yell.

“That’s the good stuff.”

“I only ever have the good stuff in this place.” I filled her shot glass again and then filled another.

“Why thank you, sexy,” she said, putting money down but keeping her finger on the twenty. “If you change your mind, I’m in room 303. The place with the mask painted on the door. I’m sure you know the one.”

“I do, and I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, giving her my panty-dropping smile, but I had zero intention of taking her up on the offer. There was only one woman I planned to have writhing beneath me.

As the woman moved out of the way, I was practically punched in the face by Alora’s glare, and holy-fucking-shit, it was hot. I’d never been into jealous girls. They were clingy and annoyed me, especially when I needed my privacy. Having a girlfriend freak out because she couldn’t reach me for a few hours wasn’t going to work, but this…this was insanely hot. The jealousy burned in her blue eyes, and if she could’ve struck me dead, I would’ve been singed to dust. Of all the crap I’d done to her, it was me flirting with a customer that got her to show genuine emotion? All she needed was for me to paint her green instead of blue.

“You jealous?” I mouthed, and I swear she snarled at me before looking away. Well, well, well. Ms. Alora, you’ve been holding out on me.

Smirking, I turned away, and a man I’d seen sitting in the corner eating a plate of wings and fries was now at the bar. He polished off the rest of his drink and set it down as I wandered over.

“Good evening, friend. Would you like a refill?”

“No, I better not.”

His steely blue eyes looked around at the bar like he was inspecting it. There was something about his cool and calculated look that sent up a red flag. He didn’t take in the other patrons the way regular people did. He didn’t smile or flirt, and I could see him analyzing, but what? Without asking, I knew he was highly intelligent, organized, and, like me, was trying to blend in when he didn’t fit the mold. He definitely didn’t enjoy people rubbing against his arms or bumping into him from behind, and I had to wonder why he would even want to come to a place like this.

After a few moments, his eyes met mine, and I swallowed, feeling the full weight of his stare. This man, whoever he was, was a threat. I’d never met anyone who could set off all my internal warnings. He was like me, a predator at the top of the food chain. Was he here to hunt?

The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, but there was no humor in his eyes, and my body tensed, ready for whatever he did next. He stood and took out a couple of hundreds, placing them on the bar before signaling me to come closer.

Hoping he didn’t plan on having a showdown in the middle of my crowded bar, I leaned in to hear what he had to say.

“I like your style, it’s…creative.” Pointing to Alora, he smiled. “Make sure you don’t push too far if you want to keep that one. There is a fine balance between breaking and broken,” he said.

With that, he walked away. I watched him leave before picking up the money and his empty glass. A little paper napkin was stuck to the bottom, and as I looked at it through the glass, my heart stopped. I stared at two words.

The Chameleon

Running past Lennox, I jumped onto the bar and heard claps as I leaped over the few rows of people before dashing out the door into the night. He was gone. I looked up and down the street and even jogged to the closest alley, but like a magician, he’d proven why I was still aspiring to be like him. How the hell did he know about me or find me? Was he looking for me, or was it a fluke that of all the bars in New Orleans, the man that I looked up to walked into mine? It couldn’t be. I knew how he worked and how methodical every move he made was. I’d hit on the Chameleon’s radar.

My body thrummed with excitement at the thrill of meeting him, even for just a second. He’d even given me advice and said he liked my style. I got a compliment from the man I wanted to become. I looked The Chameleon in the eyes and lived.

I wanted to spin around like I’d been tossed into a romantic movie, and the one person I wanted to tell about this momentous event was currently shackled in my bar.

“There is a difference between breaking and broken,” I repeated The Chameleon’s words.

Glancing down at the napkin, I ran my thumb lovingly over the name. If it weren’t for this, I would think that I dreamed of this moment. So, few people got to meet their heroes, and even less lived up to the hype, but not him. The Chameleon was exactly as I envisioned.

I did one more turn and stared into the darkness, positive that The Chameleon was somewhere watching me. But I’d never see him again unless it was on the wrong end of his knife. He’d purposely let me see what he looked like. That was a massive risk, and it was an honor and a show of mutual respect. There was no greater gift.

Smiling, I walked back into the bar like I was walking on air.