Colour Series Box Set (57 page)

“Are you ready to feed that need I can see burning in you Princess? Do you want to kill me?” His voice mocks me bringing my rage back to the surface. I want to kill him. He is smiling at me like the cat that got the cream as he circles the bed where I am a prisoner. Stalking me like I am prey. “I am going to cut you loose now, get dressed and let's go take care of you correctly. Then we have houses to look at.”  He so calm and detached, far from the passion and fury filled monster from last night.
Megan was right, that was a psychotic break, it had to be. That is not normal even for someone who is into that sort of kink that was not kink, it was insanity. He should be medicated for that!

All business, his words don’t betray a single emotion but drip with authority and power. He owns me and he wants me to know it. He staked his claim on my body last night, now he is showing me exactly how far that ownership goes. I belong to him and I can do nothing about it.

There is nothing left of my underwear and my clothes are laid out neatly at the foot of the bed. Callum takes a knife from his pocket and runs the point of it up my naked stomach and arms with just enough pressure, not to cut me, but enough so I know that he could. I am instantly aroused and rub my thighs together. This earns me a mocking laugh and a shake of his head as he cuts my hands loose. The sudden return of circulation is painful and I cannot help but wince at the uncomfortable pain. He bends down and kisses my cheek, cold and void of the passion he showed last night. “Get dressed.” His soft words brush against my ear then he leaves me alone. He is dressed to perfection in a black suit as always, his hair combed neatly and he smells like sex on a stick. Where is train wreck I saw at the funeral now? I stood a chance against
that
Callum.

I slide out of the bed rubbing my wrists easing the discomfort a little, no way I am dressing without a shower I smell like
him
and dirty sex. My hair is a matted red mess and I can feel his semen dried on my thighs. The bathroom is cold and I turn the water in the shower scalding hot. It turns my white skin red in seconds as I try to wash Callum off of my body - I won’t get him off my mind so easily. He clings to my body too, his bruises and bite marks sting and burn my skin and I can feel that his physical assault has left my lady bits tender and raw. I look almost as bad as Joel lying in my surgery after their boxing match.

I towel dry my hair and fish a clip out of my handbag pinning it up high off my neck and face. I shamefully slip yesterday’s clothes over my naked body and put my bare feet into my heels. When I open the door, Callum is standing right outside of it waiting with a suspicious smile on his face.

“Let’s go Princess.” My blood turns cold the lust gone and I want to kill him right now. I am instantly consumed by the grey need for death, the shadow has caught up with me. I
need
it like I need air. I crave the high, the buzz, the absolute satisfaction of ending a life.

We drive in silence to my surgery, I have nothing to say to him. I am too confused by the betrayal of my body. He seems angry with me, although I am not sure what I expected the morning after sex with a madman. He tied me to the fucking bed! My palms sweat with fear, anticipation and confusion.

He parks in the ambulance bay in front of the building and gets out quickly; I wait for him to open my door. He doesn’t; he just glares at me from the surgery door. I carefully haul myself out of the car giving him a view of my naked crotch and stomp up the sidewalk to join him. “Smile, you love me remember.” Only his expression doesn’t match the instruction. There is no love, just threats in those evil eyes.  He is toying with me and enjoying every minute of it. I am Callum’s new toy and he is going to play with me until I am broken.

He pushes the door open with excessive force and marches into my workplace. Only it’s not mine anymore, it’s his just like I am. He has taken it all.

“Megan, get the nurse and the doctor and go on a tea break.” He barks at my receptionist, her eyes begging me to step in and tell her if she should listen I nod trying to tell her to just do as he asks. “Now Megan, not tomorrow afternoon, fuck off, I have some business with Shannon.”  She scrambles up and buzzes the other two to get out; I hear their footsteps as Callum drags me by the arm to my office. I swallow my fear and focus on the promised high.

“So how do you do it Shannon? What will fix that look in your eyes? How do you kill them? Do you watch them die?” He is just feeding my rage towards him and my need to kill is growing by the second. Being around Callum is too dangerous. I will kill him. I need to kill someone, fucking anyone will do right now. His voice seduces the darkness in me and I melt in confusion and lust. It makes me sick to my stomach.

“Poison, which one depends on how quickly I need them to die? I would give you Strychnine and watch you suffer for 2-3 hours while your body contorts to the worst death imaginable.” The malice of my words makes him smile, he is enjoying this. He is drawn to this side of me and is stupidly unafraid of my need to extinguish the life force out of others.

“Where do you keep it?” He questions very calmly, standing too close to me again so my body loses its fight and forgets my need to kill him. Lust one of the most deadly sins draws us into a trap we won’t escape alive.

“Upstairs in my flat, the lock box is in my spare bedroom.” I don’t dare lie to him; I want to live long enough to actually kill him. He walks to my desk and sits in my chair. “Go fetch it Princess.” Again an order, not a request, I haven’t moved when he raises an eyebrow at me. “Now!” he yells at me, waiting for my challenge so he can react. I just turn and go to my box of death upstairs and bring down two vials of my favourite poison enough to kill someone horrifically. I hold them tight to my skin warming the glass as I slowly go back down the stairs. I am afraid Callum will get off on the torturous nature of this. He likes to watch suffering. A lesson I learned the hard way last night.

The leather of his belt bit into my flesh over and over again, I screamed through every single lash. The vile smile on his face as he unleashed hell on my body made me cower in fear. I was convinced I would die as he forced my body to respond to his torture. His brutal assault of my most sensitive places left me in a weeping mess. I was just a mess on the floor again.

When I open my office door, Callum is not there, I walk down a small passage in search of him. When I do find him, it is at the bedside of his nephew, the broken young man is clearly in pain Callum has apparently just added a new injury while I was busy. I don’t say a word. I feel the ice, the thrill of what is to come as I mix the poison with a glass of iced tea. I must remember to toss the glass so I don’t inadvertently kill anyone else. My coldness is directed at Callum, but I am taking it out on another, is this secret to me keeping a lover, to having a man in my life? I feel a new thrill a different high.

“Joel, this will help with the pain and to rehydrate you a little. I don’t want to have to put up an IV so, please drink it quickly.” I hand him the glass and watch him swallow the deadly liquid down. Each bob of his Adam’s apple takes him closer to a vile end. There is no antidote for Strychnine he will die from that drink. I grab the empty glass and Callum’s hand. “We will check on you in a few minutes, try to get some rest.” I pull Callum from the room.

“How much time?” He asks me in my ear. His breath adding to the burning desire that is coursing through me I feel my world dissolving into confusion and chaos. This is mine, my high, the release I need and I don’t want to share it with him. The anarchy in my own head is making me doubt this situation. I feel ill. I am not getting what I need from this because Callum is sharing it with me. Yet it feels better in other ways, I get strangely turned on by him watching. I am as sick as he is.

“Twenty minutes and the muscle spasms and convulsions will start then two to three hours before he will die. He is already weak so it may be quicker, we will go watch once it starts I just need to make sure the others don’t return, it will get loud and ugly. What am I going to do with his body Callum, I cannot call Neil to fetch it he won’t believe I fucked the boy.” I just realised I am going to be stuck with a dead O’Reilly in my surgery in a few hours and no way to get rid of him on my own.

“I have taken care of it, one of my foreign boys will go deliver him to his grieving mother.” His voice is cold again and I am afraid of him. “Go call Megan tell them to take the day off, you can tell her the surgery is closed out respect for the passing of my brother Warrick.” What the fuck? I have to stop and take in his words? I swallow hard when I slowly understand what is going on - he is the one waging war.

“You killed your own brother?” I question just to be sure my mind isn’t making this up all on its own.

“No, I had my brother killed. I do not like actually committing murder Princess, I don’t mind watching though. I will do it if I have to, but I rather not.” The evil glint in his eyes reminds me of the way he looked at me last night. A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth giving me a glimpse of just how much he is enjoying this.

I go make a call to Megan and flip the door sign to closed before I return to Callum, who has made himself at home behind my desk. He looks up at me and then at his watch, it’s still too soon. “I am going upstairs to change into clean clothing, I presume when we are done we are still shopping for houses even though you should be mourning your brother’s untimely death?” He just nods and continues to work on my computer.

My body has a poison clock built in, I know the exact minute my victim begins to suffer I can feel it as if I am connected to their withering souls. I am almost dressed when I know his face is pulling with spasms he cannot understand, his mind is racing to fathom why no one is coming why he can’t scream louder. Soon he will realise and accept his death sentence then I will go watch, I need to see him die. His demise is my reward.

I don’t know how he did it, but Callum has managed to take the need to murder him and used the same trigger to make me murder his nephew. I am just as excited and turned on by it. I slip on fresh underwear and stockings; throwing what was left of yesterday’s clothing in the laundry hamper. I choose a green pencil skirt with a black camisole and heels, run a brush through my hair before I go fetch Callum. It is time for the best part of this to begin, the grey clouding my mind settles into black and I am ready for him to die. Ready for my prize.

It has been an hour and Joel knows he is going to die; his body is shutting down, his spine arches with uncontrollable spasms almost snapping it. His eyes bulging out of the sockets with every episode, lock jaw has set in so he cannot scream anymore. He will either die when the nervous system stops telling his lungs to breathe or his system shuts down from the exhaustion of the convulsions. His pain will be magnified by the injuries that Callum inflicted yesterday. His death will be beautiful to watch. Death is the most beautiful part of life.

It’s time to go play with the toy my new lover has given me.

I GET MY KICKS IN LIFE from torture, mental and physical, tormenting another soul makes me happy. I know I am sick, twisted and insane, but my madness is what keeps me alive. Madness came to me when I was young, only then I used to enjoy the torture inflicted on me. The days my stepmother would drag me by the hair or kick me until I puked, I enjoyed it because if I was tortured by feeling pain then I was alive. I have told you that I feel everything. I felt it every time my father brought a whore to my bed in the hope I would fall in love and marry her. I felt it as I would fuck her within an inch of her life her screams gagged and her body bound. I suffered every bruise I left on their skin, every bite mark and every welt my belt left after it cracked over their flesh. I celebrated the elation of success when their broken little bodies were fetched by my pop’s henchmen and dragged away from my evil clutches damaged forever, broken, like me. I endured the splintering of my heart break when Cassie slipped from my grip and plummeted to her bone-crushing death on the sidewalk below me. I experienced a thrill when I got the call to say my father was dead. The things that I feel are rarely good things. I love to watch as the mental wall is reached and the body breaks under my hand. I don’t enjoy killing because a corpse cannot feel the bite of pain, or the burning need for touch after being deprived, a dead body cannot make me feel alive.