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Four
Plantation Heir
The women tormented me. I couldn’t get them out of my head. Last night was different, though. The screams and wails still echoed in agony, but this time it seemed they were trying to say something coherent, however, I couldn’t make it out. I couldn’t comprehend anything except the torture they endured.
I sensed everything, their horror and pain, their anguish and terror, all of it was a scene straight out of hell. And the heat was unbearable. I saw the inferno that engulfed them as they’d writhed in agony after the butchering they’d lived through. Even in the dream I tried to save them. No matter how much I hacked and plowed my way through the flames, I never got any closer.
I know it made me angry, because I was furious when I woke up. I distinctly recall hearing my own labored breathing inside my gas mask in the dream, phsshhh, sssshhhh, psshhh, sssshhhh, I woke up soaking wet, saturated in sweat, while my heart pounded a hole through my chest. I could still smell the scent of death with every breath. That was at three in the morning. I couldn’t go back to sleep, and quite frankly, sleep was the last place I wanted to be, not after the nightmare. I decided to go for a run, just me and the things that lurked in the dark of the bayou.
The sun had long since risen by the time I arrived back at home. It seems I’ve been spending less and less time there because when I am there, the walls close in on me. I’ve thought about staying at the firehouse full time, at least until after the nightmare of the serial killings is over.
I picked up a newspaper at the corner convenient store on the way home. The headline stopped me in my tracks.
VOODOO BURNING
SERIAL KILLER ON THE LOOSE
A third fire took place in an abandoned home in the Ninth Ward. The gruesome scene found inside involved another slaughtered unidentified female. No suspects have been arrested. This is the third incident in six months.
An expert criminal investigator has been called in, a local of New Orleans, Dominique Chavelle.
Anyone with any information is encouraged to contact the New Orleans Police Department.
“What is wrong with people?! Dominique should sue them for printing her name, for fucks sake!” Jesus Christ, they as good as put a huge bullseye on her chest! I smashed the paper into a tight ball and shoved it into the first trash can I came across.
I’m still furious when I get out of the shower a couple of hours later to someone banging on my door.
No one ever comes out here. I live almost an hour from New Orleans. The property has been in the Beauchamp family since the area was settled. Most of the land had been sold off over the years, and all that remains is the ancient main mansion and a couple of small outbuildings. It’s a monster to keep up with everything, but I just can’t bear to sell it.
With a towel wrapped around my waist and still dripping wet, I stomp barefoot to the door and fling it open, ready to rip the head off the person on the other side.
“I hope you like pain,” I growl because whoever it is did not pick a good day to come here.
Dominique is standing there wide-eyed and surprised. She’s got a white paper bag clutched tightly to her chest, like a shield protecting her from me. “Um, depends…?”
Realization sinks in it’s Dominique…and I didn’t scare the shit out of her. First, surprise rushes in. Then, her reply to my greeting registers.
“Well, in that case, please do come in.” I take a step out onto the front veranda and wrap a hand around the back of her neck. I’m so close her hands still clutching the bag graze my bare chest. “How did you know what I needed?” My lips crash against hers in a kiss laced with the residual anger that has been pumping through my body all night and all day.
My tongue sweeps across her lips demanding she open for me. She does. She tastes fucking delicious, like heat and sunrises, wrapped up in secrets. Her taste seeps into my veins and blends with the darkness brewing inside me. She is exactly what I’d been craving. A low rumble escapes from deep within my chest as everything I’ve been battling comes rolling over me like an avalanche. I pull her closer and try to suck everything out of her, whatever it is she has that I need, that I crave, the only thing that seems to quell the storm growing within me.
Visuals of Dominique on all fours with her wild hair wound around my fist as I thrust into her over and over again make my entire body tense and my dick throb. The darkness swells as I kiss her roughly and dig my fingers into her flesh.
I have to pause to check myself
There’d always been a simmering fury inside me. I’d managed to keep it contained, avoided anything that would cause that tether of control to snap. Maybe that’s what fascinates me about fire, the power and intensity, and how easily it could destroy you.
Dominique is like playing with fire, my own personal flame stoking the inferno inside me. She ignites the dark fury I’ve kept locked up, awakening something primitive. Something ravenous.
With my mouth still locked on hers and still holding her to me, I guide us into my house and slam the door shut. Inside, I break the kiss and stare down into her face. She’s intoxicating, and I want to do very bad, very dirty things to her. “This is the only chance you have to tell me you don’t want this, Dominique. Say it now, because I’m not giving you another opportunity.”
She blinks slowly as the lust clears from her eyes. “Depends on what it is?” A coy smile plays at the corners of her succulent mouth.
I take the bag from her hands and place it on the table behind her. “Everything.” Because, son-of-a-bitch, there isn’t anything I don’t want to do to her.
She arches an eyebrow at me as she dares me with those ice blue eyes of hers. “Seems a bit impossible.”
Primal hunger roars through me at her dare. “Then I’ll just have to show you.”
