Roman: Book 1 (9 page)

I decided to attend the dance solo, which of course I regretted within the first ten minutes of being there. I stepped outside to get away from the after party in need of some privacy and fresh air. Walking back towards the back yard I kept my head down so no one would recognize me. I shoved my hands deep in my pockets to hide my clenched fists while emotions bombarded me before leaving me feeling sad, hurt and angry as hell. When I rounded the corner of the pool house, my rambling thoughts were interrupted by the muffled sound of sex. Just the thought of watching two people fuck had excitement coursing through me. I edged closer to peep through the window and immediately realized the night wasn’t totally ruined after all. I quietly pulled the camera my mom insisted on me bringing, from my jacket pocket and snapped a quick picture with trembling hands. Roman Payne was mercilessly pounding his cock into a struggling Brittany who was fighting Roman with as much strength she could muster, but her attempts were useless against his size and strength. Without looking away from the sight of Roman ramming into a weakening Brittany, I quickly pulled my hard cock from my slacks and tightly wrapped my hand around it, jerking myself off.

When I noticed he was strangling her with something in his hands, I began to fervidly stroke my cock faster in my tightening grip. The rush I felt of possibly being caught watching them fuck, acutely heightened my arousal and when Roman threw his head back filling Brittany’s lifeless body with cum, my own orgasm tore a path through me so intense, my teeth sank into my knuckles, breaking the skin until my mouth filled with blood.

Once my heart rate returned to normal I realized what I just witnessed, and my instincts spurred me into action. I spun around to run for help. I only took a single step before I stopped. The entire few moments that followed felt as if they occurred in slow motion. My head turned and my body followed until I was able to closely watch as the drama unfolded before me.

A part of me I never knew existed came to life and whispered, “The slut deserves it. Had she stuck with the good guy, she wouldn’t have had the life strangled out of her while she was being raped. She made her choice, all I did was watch her pay the consequences.” I wanted to watch her suffer. I wanted to watch her be strangled. I wanted to watch her die. And so, I did.

I crouched hidden and watched as Roman’s father and two other men took care of the ‘cleaning’. I realized not only had my envy of Roman multiplied, but my respect for him had as well. I made a vow to myself that night that one day I would have Roman’s life. The next morning I immediately began taking steps and implementing plans to make his reality my own.

During the next decade I continued watching in silence and fascination as he took the lives of eleven more women. Once I finally climbed up the rungs and earned my place as Roman’s lead private investigator and right hand man, it put me directly in charge of the circle of men Roman Payne trusted. I knew it would be the beginning of an epic game of stratagem. My first course of action, originally was getting rid of the older version of me, Andrew. It’s ironic when you finally get something you’ve always wanted, almost immediately that’s when life catapults something else you equally desire in its place.

It was Heather I was not prepared for, Heather or the physical and emotional affect she would instantly have on me. I fell in love with her the first moment I saw her peering through the windows of Payne Manor with her hands lightly brushing the windowpanes. Lightening flashed across the sky illuminating her beautiful face as tears streamed down her cheeks. The longing I saw in her sad eyes as she gazed watching the rain pelt against the glass caused something to break away from my heart.

She is a mystery to me, so unlike anyone or anything I’ve ever known.

I am spellbound.

I want to see her smile. I want to be the reason she smiles. However up to this point I have been the one responsible for her tears.

And I revel in the feeling knowing I posses the power to evoke an emotion strong enough to affect her on a fundamental, physiological level I doubt she even realizes exists. I thrill at the thought of her belonging to me and me alone for as long as I deem her life worthy of living and it causes my cock to swell in aching anticipation.

God do I want her. I want her on all fours. I want her hanging from the shackles bolted to the
cellar
ceiling. I want her against every wall of my house. I want her atop every flat surface. Most of all, I want her in the shower under the hot pelting spray as I slam into her with my clenching teeth sinking into the cartilage of her trachea.  I want to watch as her blood from the nicks made by my knife mix with the water before circling the drain.

God, I want her. And I will have her. 

But not yet. The anticipation of delaying myself the pleasure of ruining Heather is more erotic and rewarding than the moment I allow myself to finally capture, seize, and ruin her, all while watching her expression as she realizes what I’ve done. 

Until those damn wires are ready to be removed I refuse to allow myself even a taste and instead I focus my energy on contemplating the moment I choose to take Heather Mackenzie and utterly ruin her— mind, body, and soul.

She is somehow able to tame my inner demons, even though I’m unable to use her body as I have planned.

Heather keeps my darkness extremely entertained while the walls of my OBGYN clinic are erected and my beloved practice takes off with breaking speed.

Heather somehow accomplishes keeping my deviant evils curbed and in check…

At least until I waltz into Payne Manor every night and reign down the abuse I’ve refrained from doling out to other women upon not only her body, but her psyche as well.

Every day that Dolores tells me how bad she feels for Heather not being able to leave the confines of the manor it spurs me to unleash my anger leaving Heather to be the one who bears the brunt. Sometimes my rage consumes me before I’m even able to finish my dinner and her punishment begins in the dining hall only to be carried to the cellar. Other nights I am able to keep my rage under control, allowing it to boil under the surface. I wait until she’s bathed and dressed in the nightgown I chose and about to slip between her sheets before I wreck misery down upon her body, beating almost every square inch of her flesh and choking her until her consciousness leaves her. The only sound heard through the manner is my dark and eerily calm voice mocking and taunting her and the silly dreams she refuses to let go of.

We find ourselves in a graceful routine in which Heather either obeys my every command, or allows her silly notions to cloud her judgment
,
leading me to reign punishment upon
her
flesh and fragile mind in the form of my choosing.

Every morning before I leave for work I unlock the door to her bedroom, open the silver lined pale blue room darkening curtains and sit in the overstuffed cream chair near her bed and watch her sleep for as long as the early morning permits. I brush my lips across every curve of her face before settling them against her lips and whispering, “Time to wake up, mouse. I’ve laid your clothes out expect you to be bathed, waxed, manicured, pedicured, coiffed, dressed and escorted to the dining halls by six thirty as always.”

Today as I watch her stir under the opulence I provide for her slumber
,
I see the moment my voice registers in her mind.  I enjoy observing her soft sleeping face as fear sharpens her features.

Today is a very important day.

Today is the day of reckoning.

Today questions will be answered and destinies will be made.

Today marks our sixth week from the day she handed me her life.

It also represents the first day of the rest of her life.

“Open your eyes and look into mine, mouse.” Her eyelashes flutter open before her dark chocolate eyes look up at me and I find myself grasping for the right words to explain to her what lies ahead. “Today after your jaw is unwired
,
I advise you to use the day to contemplate the truths you will reveal tonight at dinner. I also suggest using a fair amount of time practicing your speech.  I expect to hear the melody of your voice clearly this evening am I understood?” I stand to my full stature, towering over her and as I button my suit jacket with a sardonic smile I continue, “You’ve known this day was coming for weeks, mouse.  Use this day to prepare yourself for the next phase of your life. Tonight is your moment to shine, do not disappoint me. You and your actions hold the power of your life or death.”

I know, especially from your standpoint, at this part of the story it seems I want her to fail.  Don’t get me wrong, the evil in me savors the thought of her failing yet another part of me, one I don’t recognize outweighs the evil and wants her to succeed.

I want her, wholly, irrevocably, and entirely, I want every piece of her.

Not for weeks, not for months, but forever. I want her to belong to me and me alone, for the rest of my mortality.

So much so, that when she smiles at me, my airless lungs constrict around something in my chest. It can’t be my heart. It’s something else that isn’t in the medical books. I know this because I was born without a heart.

The organ beating at a regular pace within my chest cavity has never, and will never feel a single inkling of sympathy, empathy, hope, much less love and appreciation.

Clinic was hell today. My job is usually 99.9% eye rolling easy, however today instead of delivery after delivery of crying bundles of joy, I was met with chaos, emergency surgeries, and death.

So, today when I say I’m pissed, it is a horrid understatement.

After I spend forty-five minutes under the hot water of muscle pelting showerheads, I wrap a towel around my waist, and walk into my dressing room. I pull on a pair of dark gray dress slacks and a black V-neck snug fitting t-shirt that allows the tattoo covering my right arm to show and just the top of the wing shaped armor to peek out on the back of my neck.

The closer I physically get to the dining hall, the faster electricity hums through my veins. I pause a brief moment outside the doors, and breathe in a deep breath as I prepare myself for anything, everything, and nothing all at once. After calmness ebbs the electricity humming and zipping through my veins, I pull back my shoulders and stand to my full stature sliding my hands into the pockets of my slacks and calmly walk through the doors.

The sight of Heather’s perfect smile, her shimmering blonde hair flowing over her shoulders contrasts beautifully against the red chiffon gown I chose for her this morning and whatever the words were on the tip of my tongue a moment ago are lost as I gaze at this visage of beauty before me.

The sound of her voice affects me on a fundamental level.

“Hello, Roman.”  Her voice is pure erotica and the huskiness from lack of use causes my cock to harden in response. When she’s within reach a carnal basic instinct awakes inside me instantly.

I jerk her towards the middle of the long dining table with one arm and in one swift movement my other arm swipes across the dining room table sending everything in my path crashing to the floor.  Without thought I grasp her hips and twist her around, slamming her onto the emptied space. My eyes are locked on hers and a growl tears from my throat as both hands slide up her outer calves pushing the silky chiffon up her smooth legs. My hands continue to slide up, alternately gripping her taut flesh harshly causing her to cry out and wince in pain.