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He lifted his head slowly. That was when I realized how insanely tall he was, standing a full head above almost everyone else in the room. The light he was under gave me more of a clear view of his muscular physique, his arm muscles bulging through his expensive suit. Yet none of that mattered when he looked into my eyes.
They were no longer brilliant blue but black like a moonless night.
And I couldn’t help but imagine they were a direct reflection of his soul.
* * *
“A lion’s work hours are only when he’s hungry. Once he’s satisfied, the predator and the prey live peacefully together.”
—Chuck Jones
Cruz
A predator.
Until now, I hadn’t placed my ruthless behavior in a single category. Maybe that’s because I’d been born into aggression, the requirement for domination something my brother and I were taught as children.
But as I sat inside my house in the dark, I was forced to realize that I was a monstrous predator, only my prey usually never survived an attack. They were sent straight to the fires of hell where most of them belonged. I’d never felt guilty or repulsed by my actions, no matter how violent or bloody.
My lack of conscience had made dealing with enemies easy, exacting revenge just another day at the office. Dealing with Eden had presented an entirely different set of circumstances, my thoughts turning darker by the minute.
I took a swig of my drink, staring out into the night as I’d done for the last two hours. Beads of sweat covered my upper lip. Not from a warming fire or the sweltering night.
From anger and hatred.
For the past.
For the family I’d been forced to grow up in.
And for the tragedies I’d endured because of my position in life.
At this point, some might call me a psycho, a man who’d lost his perspective, but that didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered.
But her.
Eden.
The woman who’d awakened the dead man inside.
Eden.
The woman who’d enticed my senses, refusing to fall at my feet.
Eden, the beautiful muse who enlightened my world with her sparkling eyes and lilting voice, reminding me that I wasn’t dead inside.
While I hadn’t lied to her, at least not completely, she had no idea she’d found herself on the radar of a heinous deviant with a penchant for pain and a need to make others suffer. She had no idea that she’d fallen into a trap that she’d never be free of.
I ran my finger around the rim of my glass as I allowed my thoughts to ravage my mind. As a vision of her face entered my mind, I eased my head against the chair, closing my eyes.
And I allowed myself to fantasize about all the nasty things I would do to her.
Soon I would defile her more than I already had, decimating what was left of her fake world. Then I would devour her whole. Several visions swept into my mind, and it was as if the fantasy was real.
I wrapped my hand around her throat, squeezing with enough pressure she pushed against me, struggling to break away. She would never be free of me. She’d never feel the sense of freedom with anything she did. She was mine. Mine to taste and take, fuck and use anytime I wanted.
Tonight was no exception. I pushed her down to her knees with my other hand, glaring into her soft green eyes as they pleaded with me for leniency. She would get nothing but punishment for her rash behavior, attempting to break free of her gilded cage. She would learn one way or the other that I was her master until the end of time.
