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  Hailey called him a bastard and physically attacked him when she’d discovered her sister’s condition. He made promises – but what value can be found in the word of a liar? He laughed when she attacked him, easily overpowering her. His body was a machine, perfectly cut into a killer. Skillful and strong, he was able to take her to peaks she never wanted to reach while at the same time breaking her mind apart, splitting the solid foundation of what she thought she knew about life into useless questions and doubts. With every movement against her, every word spoken, every carefully plotted and expertly executed force of his will in opposition to hers, she’d been broken down, molded, shaped into a woman begging for his touch while also praying for death and release.

  Kimberly had been the ‘whipping boy’ – the surrogate recipient of the punishment intended for Hailey. Elliot would tell her that her sister’s body was not as valuable to him and Kimberly would lose bits of flesh, of muscle and bone for Hailey’s rebellion. He hadn’t lied. He would drug Kimberly – he at least granted her that favor. But it was another piece of his cruelty hidden in the beautiful and false wrapping of kindness. Whereas the drug would numb the pain, it would also grant Kimberly the ability to watch what was done to her without passing out from the terror of the acts she witnessed and endured. Hailey had frantically struggled against her chains when Kimberly watched in dazed fascination as the wire was circled around her limbs and tightened to a point where the razor sharp edge sliced into her skin leaving red-ribboned streams of blood trailing down her arms and legs like streamers in celebration of pain.

  The slaughter was slow, every single act carried out with precision and care. Once he’d sheared her like a lamb, she was left on the cold floor, bleeding out in crimson rivers that followed the path of the cracks in the concrete. The drugs wore off eventually and the relentless screaming and panic only made Kimberly bleed out harder and faster, until shock finally took over her body, rendering her mute in her terror and pain. Hailey watched as the light drained from Kimberly’s eyes, and watched as her sister was finally granted reprieve and escape from the monster that held her.

  But Hailey wasn’t as lucky. After Kimberly died, Hailey fought harder, only to be shown in no uncertain terms that he was the dominating presence and she was nothing more than a puppet to which he held the strings. He made her dance for him, forcing seduction from her tired muscles and bones, and constantly reminding her how beautiful she was to him. He would tell her he loved her – that he wanted her to be a cherished pet in the life he could create for her. After weeks of his manipulation, she began to fall prey to his kindness and lies. He never hurt her like he’d hurt Kimberly – never marked her skin or drew blood from her veins. No – the marks he left on her were the brands on her mind and the small slices of her soul that he was able to extract, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a woman who wanted to please him so that she could find solace in the nightmare of her new life. He made Hailey believe that Kimberly deserved to die – that he’d done her a favor by freeing her of the only thing that made her weak. He kept her isolated and confused, malnourished and restrained – a victim to her physical needs and her body’s innate desires. And now, he learned to turn her on with his poetic words, the soft velvet of his voice and the way his hard body moved against her flesh. She would become wet when he touched her, would clench her muscles in anticipation of the size of his cock, and would swallow back the moisture that flooded her mouth when she became thirsty for his kiss. He made her feel drunk with nothing more than a look – with the knowledge that he would take her exactly where he wanted her to go and would rip her apart with the sick orgasms he forced on her over and over again.

  …

  “Oh, give me a damn break! He KILLED your SISTER you dumb woman! Why would you have any attraction to him at all?”

  My hand came up to clamp over my mouth from my unintended outburst. I looked around the house to see if anyone had heard me, but laughed to remember I was home by myself with no witnesses in existence that could tell the story of my reaction to Lucas’ book. My skin was prickled with goose bumps from the lyrical way his words flowed across the pages - pulling you in like his male lead, Elliot, pulled in Hailey. I felt disgusted and warped for turning the pages, but I couldn’t look away. I had to know what happened; one part of me wishing she would break free and the other hoping that she would return to him the same degradation and terror he’d inflicted on her and her sister. The one thing I could not feel was the attraction. How could a woman want any man that was so dark and twisted – one who would abuse and torture without any remorse or concern – who would tear apart every good thing about another person and laugh at the shredded bits of life that remained within her enslaved body?

  However, I still had more to read and, from what I could tell about the book from where these next chapters were going, I was about to encounter the scenes that plant his book smack dab in the middle of the erotica section. He was graphic in his description, but eloquent in his vocabulary. He could paint of picture of horror that carried the skilled brushstroke of a classic painter. When he spoke of music, I could hear it. When he had one character softly touch another, I could feel it. I could imagine the heat of Elliot’s breath across Hailey’s body when he whispered to her and my skin reacted in the same manner as hers. I was affected. I was scared – and I had to pull away because, unlike Hailey, I could escape. However, I couldn’t escape entirely because I would find that after only a few minutes of having closed the book, I would have it open again with my eyes furiously devouring the words. Despite my disgust, I was captivated, held prisoner by the same mind tricks and manipulation that bound Hailey to her captor. Even though blue eyes were described as a golden brown and black hair was lightened to a striking blonde, I couldn’t help but imagine Lucas in Elliot’s place; his words and the smooth tone of his voice saying horrifying things while ensnaring me in a desirous need to know more.

  My own curiosity kept me turning the pages to delve deeper into the psyche of not only a criminal, but also his crime. She was a shy, scared woman, taken and abused for pleasure and entertainment … a victim to the cruelty of the world that was tucked neatly into the toned body and beautiful design of the man who referred to himself as her ‘Master’.

  That word repeated in my head when I got up from the couch where I’d laid down to read. I felt dirty and tired, my eyelids opening and closing over my eyes that burned with exhaustion from my day. When I finally pushed myself up on my feet, I had to reach down to balance myself on the arm of the couch before taking careful steps into my room. I placed Lucas’ book on my bed and moved to the closet to hang up the clothes I’d worn so that I could drop them off to the dry cleaner on my next free day from work. From the corner of the room, I could see my skin slowly revealed as I removed my modest clothing. I found myself imagining Lucas’ hands sliding over me, his mouth whispering that I was nothing more than a slave to him – and my ears hearing him demand that I refer to him as my owner – my Master. I refused to believe that the words could escape from my lips so easily and I wanted to hate myself for having the thought or curiosity at all.

  I couldn’t stand what I read in the book I’d been challenged to read, yet there was still a part of me that wanted to explore the mystery of Lucas Bates. I wanted to pick his brain to understand how he could fall so far into the depths of madness to write his books without losing himself to the same terror in his real life. When I was reading, I was lost in his world – twisting and turning with the many pitfalls hidden gracefully within the pages, the ultimate highs of fear and despair mixed with the lows of misery and pain. When I closed the book, my logic returned to me and I doubted my own mind during those moments. It was a testament to the skill of the writer for a reader to become lost – but Lucas has a special flair for not only trapping the reader within sentences and paragraphs meant to shock and seduce, but for keeping them prisoner to the emotions he evoked long after the words had been disguised from the eyes of
the witness who flipped the pages.

  Turning to look at myself fully in the mirror, I ran my hand over my own skin. Beginning at the soft swell of my hip, up over my stomach and along the outer edge of my breast. I allowed thoughts that should have been forbidden to dance along my mind, tempting me into the shadows of my belief of what it would be like to be made a victim to the torment of a beautiful man. Shaking myself suddenly of what had come over me, I breathed out heavily and glanced at the seemingly innocuous book lying on the white down comforter of my bed. On the cover was the image of a woman’s face, red lipstick smeared down along the skin of her cheek and chin. She was beautiful and the tears that streamed down her face glistened against her alabaster skin. I recognized that it must be a picture of Hailey as Lucas imagined she would look. Walking over, I picked up the book, mesmerized and haunted by the image that stared back at me. My logical mind told me it was a model that was paid some price to stand there while her face was recorded on film and prepared so that the cover would catch the eye of any person who passed it. But another part of me told me this was the girl I’d read about, the one who was hopelessly trapped by a smooth and intriguing man – a man whose evil soul was somehow just as seductive as his beauty. It was real in my head and that’s what made the book all the more horrible to experience. I didn’t want to read on, but at the same time, I couldn’t stop. I reasoned with myself that I had no choice. I blamed the challenge for something that was, ultimately, the result of my own morbid curiosity.

  Grabbing the book from my bed and moving into the bathroom, I shut the door before turning on the tub faucet and watching the steam billow up in gossamer clouds above the white porcelain. I lit candles around the room before dimming the lights and looking out over my back yard where small white lights were strung within the branches of the trees and the flickering bulbs of fake torches created a calming ambience. I would often escape there at night when the breeze was cool outside. A picture window ran the length of the tub and I continued staring out as I sat on the cool smooth surface pouring in salts and soaps that filled the room with the scent of spice and tropical flowers. It was heaven on Earth when I was safely inside my small space, soaking in warm water while every sensation I had was left relaxed and spellbound by the combination of the light, smell and sound.

  I flicked on the radio that wafted a symphony of harmonious sound throughout the room – the light music echoing off the walls and ceiling once the water had been turned off. Climbing in, my skin prickled where the warmth met my body, and when I was finally submerged, I relaxed back against the bath pillow, pulling the book from the center tray of the bathtub where I’d placed it when I first entered the room.

  Opening it up, my eyes took in the black and white typewritten words – I took in the harmless letters patterned in a way that drew fear from the mind, that placed images before my eyes that were never really there. As I flipped the pages, I watched as Hailey was ravaged by the man who held her captive. My mind fractured with hers when she was taken to peaks of sexual pleasure that I imagined I had never known. I was horrified by the fact that I grew jealous of her in those moments – that I wished for my body to be pinned and have the true pleasure that I was capable of to be pulled from me, little by little, by a man who knew my every fear and every desire because they were his as well.

  I would pause between scenes and imagine the logic of a man in his choice of victim. Did the woman resemble him in some way? Was it the things she had that he didn’t that attracted him; or was it the things she had that were the same in him? In this story, Elliot watched Hailey for months before taking her. He learned everything there was to know about her before finally executing a plan that would trap her within his twisted game. He was smart about each step he took, each manipulation and tactic he used against her. She fought hard and long, but when I’d reached that final page, she’d succumbed to his will, hopelessly and helplessly lost inside the world he’d created for her. She was happy to exist as his property alone. Ultimately, she lost her mind to him, she became nothing more than a woman who existed for him, and she found peace in finally letting go of the world she’d left behind. My eyes closed as I considered what I’d read.

  I hated what Lucas made me feel in his book, I hated that he was able to manipulate my mind as easily as Elliot was able to manipulate Hailey’s. Laying my head back on the pillow I allowed the soft music to create new emotions in me, to take me far away from the world Lucas had created in his writing. I was scared of any man who could find that place inside his mind and I wondered if he enjoyed living in those places – if he was turned on by the fantasies he used to create his dark material.

  Finally opening my eyes again, I pulled myself from semi-consciousness, intent to go to bed and sleep for a few hours before having to get up early to set up for the signing. When I rose from the water, movement caught my eye outside the window, darting fast behind a tree, the dark silhouette blocking out the lights as it passed. I screamed and fell backwards, hitting my head on the tub resulting in what sounded like a crack to my skull. Pain shot through me like lightning and I gasped as I fell under the water. Immediately pushing myself up, I feared that I would lose consciousness and drown. Biting my lip against the pain, I climbed over the side and lay down on the cool tile floor, safe from drowning but nervous about the blood that dripped from my hair. I’m not sure how long I remained on the floor, but eventually I found the strength to sit up and crawl to the mirror where I could inspect the damage. Moving my hair to the side, I was happy to notice it was only a small split in the skin that had already clotted by the time I’d moved to look at it.

  Glancing back out the window, I strained my eyes to see if whatever moved was still there. After a few minutes of seeing nothing but the ordinary flicker of lights to which I’d grown accustomed, I shrugged it off, regardless of the dread that crawled along my spine when I thought about who it could have been that was standing there watching me as I slept in the bath. My mind immediately went to Lucas. He was the only person of whom I could think that would watch me. He was the only person in this town that I hadn’t known for over ten years. But he was out with Mary Beth and there was no way he could be the figure I’d just seen in my backyard.

  Lucas

  Stepping into the library, I straightened my jacket after pulling the strap of my bag up tighter over my shoulder. My hair fell just past my neck and I could hear it brush softly against the grey material of my suit as I moved. When I entered, I immediately looked for Autumn in the dizzying frenzy of activity. People moved quickly to set up aisles for lines of fans; however I wasn’t certain they would be necessary. There was no notice and I wondered just how many people in this small city would have knowledge of my books – much less have enjoyed them.

  Turning toward the tables lined along the left side of the large entryway, I saw my banners hung proudly on the walls. The covers stared back at me, the faces of the victims of my books looking forward, lined up like photos plastered to the pin board of a police investigation. My eyes were drawn to the brunette model that graced my first cover. Her eyes were cast aside as if she was watching for some intuited danger lurking nearby. She reminded me of Autumn in a way – delicate and shy - her shirt was buttoned to her neck and her hair was brushed back and pinned. She was unassuming and didn’t stick out amongst the beauty of the other models – which is the reason I was attracted to her the most. Women who wouldn’t reveal themselves presented a mystery to be solved and a puzzle to be unlocked.

  A hand fell on my shoulder and I was forced away from my perusal of the obviously shy girl to find a tall, thin redhead smiling at me in such a way that she appeared maniacal in her excitement.

  “Mr. Bates. I’m so happy you were able to join us today for this signing. I must admit I was surprised to hear from your assistant yesterday and to receive a request for the signing on such short notice. However, I believe that my incredible staff has been able to pull things together in a manner that you will find to be
impressive.”

  In all honesty, I didn’t care if the signing was a huge failure. If fans didn’t show or if pandemonium ensued due to lack of organization, it wouldn’t matter. I was here for one reason only and I could fulfill that reason with or without the smooth operation of the event.

  “I take it you’re Ms. Armstrong. I was told to find you once I arrived, but I couldn’t help but take in the beauty of the set up you and your staff have accomplished in such a short period of time.” Taking her hand, I lifted it to my lips and kissed the tops of her fingers. She blushed when my lips came in contact with her skin. Releasing her hand, I continued, “Thank you for your professionalism in making this event happen as quickly as you have.”

  Giving her a moment to calm herself, I allowed my eyes to look over the bevy of people still running around making the final preparations. My breath caught when I finally spotted Autumn bent over a table straightening a cloth while Mary Beth waited patiently behind her with trays of snacks for the arriving guests. Autumn’s modest skirt was hiked up in the back from the way she positioned herself over the table and lines ran down the backs of her legs from the black silk stockings she wore. When she finally straightened she pushed her hair back behind her ears and I noticed how it fell down her back, barely brushing across her ass. I imagined wrapping my hand into that thick mane as I took her over that table, my other hand ripping at the light blue buttoned blouse that, while still modest, wasn’t loose enough to hide the curves of her breasts.

  “Mr. Bates?”

  Returning my attention to Ms. Armstrong, I cleared my throat. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to wander off. Sometimes I get stuck in my head while writing and little things will give me ideas I have no choice but to explore.”