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I’ll let Viktor have the last word. But I intend to have several in between now and then.
The bed in the guest room is as comfortable as the one in the master suite, and I collapse onto it, thinking of Natalia bound in the room where I left her, wondering if she’s fallen asleep yet out of sheer exhaustion. The temptation to go and look in on her is strong, but I know I won’t be able to resist fucking her again if I do.
This isn’t looking in through her windows from across the street any longer, craving what I don’t yet have. She’s mine now, to do with as I please, and I need to pace myself lest I lose control.
I’m still playing a game with her–one in which I can’t let her have the upper hand. If she realizes just what she does to me, how thin the knife’s edge is between my vengeance and my obsession, she might achieve just that.
It’s too close for comfort. So I resolve to give myself space for the evening, time to cool down. To remember the ultimate purpose of all of this.
I reach down, fumbling in my discarded pants for my wallet, and I take the old, folded photo out. I don’t need it to remember their faces, but I look at it anyway, burning the image into my mind all over again.
“I’ve done it,” I say softly, brushing my fingertips over the photo. “I have the last Obelensky.”
Slowly, I bring the picture to my lips, the cold gloss of the paper no substitute for the softness I once kissed, the last thing I ever loved.
The last vow I make before I fall asleep drifts into the air, hovering there as the picture drifts to the bed beside me.
“I’ll make sure she feels every bit of the pain that you did, before you died.”
For the first time in many, many nights, I sleep without dreams.
Mikhail
Iwake a few hours later, restless and eager to get on with it. I dress quickly, my mind skipping ahead to the things I need now to move forward with my plans for Natalia. I’ll have to go out–I hadn’t expected to have her entirely in my possession so soon, and there’s items I need, as well as a plan to cover her tracks, so that no one will look for her too soon…if at all.
Especially that red-haired girl from the club.
I know she’d been close to Natalia, and she’s the only one that might pose a difficulty. I can see her sticking her nose where she shouldn’t, looking for signs of her friend, worrying that Natalia might be in danger. She’d seemed like the stubborn, brash type, and now that I have Natalia, I can’t risk anything happening that might jeopardize that.
Especially if I want to keep her for a little while for myself.
I could tie up that loose end.
I roll the thought over in my head as I walk down the hall to the master suite. It would be easy enough, the girl–Ruby, I think she called herself–wouldn’t be much of a challenge, even if she put up a fight, not in terms of making a quick kill. The challenge would come if she actually managed to sniff anything out regarding her friend’s situation and caused problems for me.
It’s tempting. I don’t want any complications to interrupt my time with Natalia. I’ve worked too hard for this, waited too long.
I walk into the room quietly, not wanting to wake Natalia. She’s passed out exactly as I left her, her hands cuffed over her head, her skin bearing the traces of my cum, her face flushed and tear-streaked. She looks exquisite, painfully beautiful, and I have to reach down and adjust my instantly stiffening cock as I watch her.
Don’t waste time. You can enjoy her later.
I don’t want her to wake until I come home. It doesn’t matter in terms of anyone finding her–she could scream her throat bloody and no one would hear her out here–but I want to enjoy her reaction when she wakes and realizes that it wasn’t all some awful nightmare…that this is her new reality.
She’d likely sleep long enough anyway, after last night, but I’m not going to risk it. I slip the syringe I prepared out of my pocket, pricking the side of her throat with the needle as I give her the drug. It’s light enough to keep her sleeping until I come back, but not knock her out for another full day.
I toss the needle into the trash, looking down at her for one last long, lingering moment, before turning to leave. The urge that I feel to simply watch her is faintly disturbing, another sign of the obsession that I know I need to keep in check.
Outside, it’s a warm, bright day, and I consider it a good sign for what’s ahead. I have a drive ahead of me back to the city, and it’s a pleasant day for that, even if I’d prefer to spend it at the house, savoring my newly captive prey.
I make a mental list of what I need as I drive, feeling my anticipation grow as I plan. I think of what I said to her last night–we’re going to havesuchfun–and feel it spread through me, my skin tingling with it. Everything is coming together as I’d planned, and the taste of victory is as sweet as she is.
It’s nearly noon when I get back into the city, and the store that I stop at is nearly empty as I shop, which is precisely what I’d hoped for. There’s one bored looking girl standing behind the register as I check out–probably about nineteen or so, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else–and she raises an eyebrow as she begins to scan the items I have in my cart.
“A dog crate, rope, zip-ties–” she clicks her tongue. “Sure you don’t need a collar or bowls or anything? We’ve got all of it here. You really shouldn’t tie dogs up, you know–especially not outside–”
I grit my teeth, feeling a flare of irritation as she looks at me with that same bored expression. “I won’t be, don’t worry. And I have everything else I need.”
“When are you getting him? Or her?”
