Roman's Redemption: Roman: Book II (Roman's Trilogy)

Roman: Book 2

By

Kimber S. Dawn

COPYRIGHT

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. 

E-Book Edition

© Kimber S. Dawn 2015

Dedication

For my sweet Lauryn

Prologue

I died the day Heather did.

The downward spiral of my life has consisted of nothing but chaos and carnage. The copious amounts of alcohol I consume on a daily basis is much a catalyst to the desecrating havoc I leave in my wake as it is a cure. A balm to ease the ache I refuse to acknowledge exists within me.

I will admit I never truly meant to let you down, but what do you expect from a man who has always been Hell bound?

None of that matters anymore though. Not with my Heather now gone. The thought alone spins me into a pitch black hole so dark it suffocates, a place much darker than I’ve ever been before.

I’ve become careless and reckless in my self-deprecating destruction, I’m at the point where I want them to apprehend me. Andrew has stopped me from leaving the house, soaked to the skin and covered from head to toe in my latest victims’ blood on countless occasions.

I want the world to see me for what I truly am.

Sadist.

Motherfucker.

Murderer.

Monster.

Lucifer’s Belial himself, relishing in his self made Hell on Earth.

When will you realize some men cannot be reached?

You think you hated the man I was before?

I am bête noire, the Black Beast.

I do not pray to any God, I pray to myself… for myself.

I want to cauterize every memory of
her
from my mind. I want her gone from the gray matter of my brain, I want her staunchly removed from any part of my heart she ever invaded.

I only know of one way to accomplish this: unleash the sadist and let him have free rein.

I once told you,
“Every sin I commit, each life I end, every soul I purchased to watch in gratifying amusement as it fades out…I have done with whole and complete intentions of watching my sins and transgressions affect and alter the life of others.”

My intentions were my own, and I owned every single one.

I am afraid that statement no longer holds even a thread of truth. The man you met then is now nothing more than a ghost and the blood staining my hands is no longer a consequence of my amusement. No, the blood you see is the result of my visceral need to hinder the torment and desolation left in my wife’s wake.

When my hand gripping the fire poker swung, I intended for the strike to hit the chair she was sitting in. I’m uncertain how it moved up eight inches before it struck, making contact with the base of Heather’s skull.

It sent her flying through the air and crashing into the limestone wall next to the fireplace before her dead weight collapsed in a motionless heap on the floor.

I screamed at her. Taunted her with words so heinous and insidious even now I wince. I poked at her over and over demanding she wake, roaring at her to stand. When she remained unmoved, I began whaling the soot-covered iron rod clutched in my fist against her lifeless form.

When it dawned on me I hadn’t once heard her grunt in pain or a strangled breath emit from her, instantly the fire poker clattered to the cobblestone floor. I scooped up Heather’s limp body and cradled her to my chest and moved to sit on the overstuffed dark brown leather couch. I whispered to her, begging her to wake up. But I couldn’t see her, I couldn’t make out her face from my blurred vision and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why.

While gently brushing her beautiful blond hair away from her face I kept blinking, trying to see her better. When my blurry vision cleared I saw teardrops raining down on her face…tears, my tears. 

I slid my hand under her head and brought it to rest on my shoulder where I hid my face in the crook of her neck as the sobs, long suppressed, soul wrenching sobs, escaped the recesses of my tortured black heart.

I knew then.

I fucking knew it then.

My mouse, I’d killed my precious little mouse.

She was gone. Truly and irrevocably gone. And I was powerless to bring her back. Ivy would be forced to grow up without her mother…because of the actions of her wretched, vile, monstrous father.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on ends as I felt
his
presence and glare boring into my back.

“You’ve finally done it.” Sebastian’s words were clipped and patronizing.

Instantly I stood, clutching Heather’s body to me like a broken doll. When I felt the warm wetness sliding through my fingers and running down my forearm I clenched my eyes shut in an attempt to block out the austere reality of what I’d done.

It was too much for me to handle.

After I laid her back down on the sofa, I linked her hands together and placed them on her abdomen. Then I kissed every accessible inch of her cooling skin as my heart, or whatever was left of it, cracked and shattered within my rib cage. “I love you, mouse. It has always been you.” My broken sobs were indiscernible as I whispered to my mouse, my latest revelation. “From the moment I saw you swinging high enough to take flight with your blond hair blowing in the wind, it’s been only you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why didn’t you just stay away, mouse, why?”

My eyes scanned her beautiful battered face as I silently prayed for the woman I love, the woman I killed, to open her dark brown eyes. But they never opened.

“I can call the cops. I will call the cops if you don’t get the fuck away from her and leave immediately.”

Before I realize I’ve moved I’m in Sebastian’s face with my hands wrapped around his neck. “You little motherfucker. Do you honestly believe I don’t know it’s been you lurking in the shadows all these years? I don’t know why, I don’t know what it is that has held you captivated by my malevolent transgressions, nor do I fucking care. Now, know this. I am coming for you. It won’t happen today and it won’t happen next month, but it will happen. And I revel at the thought of adding a man to my numbers. Unfortunately, I have no intention of my cock coming anywhere near you, but I’m sure I have plenty of apparatuses to ram up your tight, puckered asshole until I perforate your large intestines.  Do not fear, you will get your chance to experience the wrath of Roman Payne.” I snickered in a hollow tone as my grasp released him, dropping him to the floor before turning and stalking from the house.

The cold splatter spraying across my face brings me back to the present. The carcass of the Heather lying prone on the plastic covered floor is currently being quartered and stripped. They are all Heather to me.

Every number, twenty-one to thirty seven, have all been named Heather. In the beginning they were blond with brown eyes and my mouse’s lithe build. I quickly became less picky as my addiction grew too strong, two to three women a night was barely enough to sustain my need. At some point, pickiness flew out of the window and all I required was the next number to be blond and answer to Heather.