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Pain tore through me as it had for several years, although up until this point, I’d managed to keep the beast under lock and key. However, the moment I’d laid eyes on her face, I’d succumbed to the darkness that had always been there, clawing its way to the surface.
My original intent for locating her was all but forgotten.
I’d planned on using her, replacing the woman I’d lost with the very one my former friend, her uncle, had been searching for.
I’d fallen into a trap of my own making, watching her for days, my vile thoughts becoming more filthy with every passing hour. Some would call my intentions savage. I called them a just reward for living a damaged life for far too long. And so, the game had begun, one that only I had a chance of winning.
And the prize was well worth the effort.
Tick. Tock.
The time was drawing near when I’d be able to take my first taste.
My cock ached, my balls swollen as I thought of the night ahead, the pursuit all I’d been able to think about.
Obsession.
I’d never known let alone understood the crushing sensations of fixation. My entire life, I’d been allowed the leeway of determining what pleasures I required, and was able to obtain them without question. There were few consequences to my decisions, limited retaliation that had always been easily handled. To many I was considered lucky given my access to limitless funds and methods of obtaining power.
To me, the very same abilities had become a burden.
However, that was only part of the reason for my sleepless nights, questioning my footprint on Earth. The other reason was entirely personal, which made the vivid visions I’d allowed to consume my mind calming.
For now.
Maybe it seemed far too philosophical for a man who at any given time held the destiny of his enemies in the palm of his hand. However, my art had given me an entirely different kind of power, one that my father considered blasphemous, a burden to the family legacy.
Whether my father cared or not, the ability to shove aside the various requirements instilled into me from being born into the Montenegro family had kept me sane. Every time I held a paintbrush in my hand, I was able to drown the demons. While every fresh, unblemished canvas provided a certain amount of relief, there wasn’t enough paint in the world to alter the reality that I was a very bad man. And I’d tried to pretend otherwise.
For years.
Hell, decades.
I’d acted as if I was different than my brother, but when push came to shove, I could easily crush a man’s throat with my fingers without hesitation. The fact powerful men and women alike called me a predator had always seemed like a compliment.
Even more so today.
As I stood across the street from a quaint, colorful art gallery, I felt more like a hunter than ever before. I could use the word stalker, but the unsavory term did little but leave a bad taste in my mouth. Still, my actions were far removed from my usual behavior, which continued to surprise me.
The reason was simple.
The perfect specimen of a woman, a creature so exquisite that all I could think about was the first taste.
And hearing her scream my name.
Eden was the kind of girl fantasies were built around, men forced into private spaces just to relieve their animalistic urges. All while envisioning her porcelain face and wicked smile, the way her eyes never missed anything, not a single moment. She was beautiful in physical appearance, her hourglass figure capable of making any man’s mouth water. But I wasn’t any man. I’d hungered for more, never finding a woman who could provoke or tolerate my sadistic needs. I’d tried, but with every failure I was pushed deeper into the darkness.
Revenge had become a secondary aspect.
Which was why I remained on a street corner studying her as she locked up her gallery for the night, taking a deep breath, a smile crossing her face as she made her way through the huge crowd of visitors to the great city of New Orleans. It was Halloween, the day where spirits walked among the living. I’d chosen this date in particular to finally meet her. Not that I was spiritual in the least. My beliefs were centered around the concept of asserting power.
However, the night seemed appropriate given the hallowed invitation to pretend to be something I wasn’t.
A good man.
I’d do my part at the charity event, partaking in the bidding process for cheap items I could care nothing about. It was mostly a pretense to meet her face to face.
Since seeing her entering a coffee shop three days before, I’d been fascinated with everything about her, using my significant resources to find out everything I could about her that hadn’t been done before.
