Dance with Darkness (7 page)

Right now, all anyone should see was an older man who should have taken better care of his health.

She went home and took a long shower, trying to wash off the invisible filth she felt coating her skin. But she couldn’t seem to get clean no matter how hard she tried. And afterwards when she stared at her reflection in the mirror, she didn’t recognize the person—make that monster—staring back at her.

She thought the bead of moisture sliding down her face was from her wet hair at first. But then another escaped the corner of her eye, and she realized they were tears.

She was crying. Why? Why should she cry over the death of a cranky old man who had tried to destroy her life? Just because he’d given her a job when no one else would thanks to her complete lack of job skills three years ago after she moved to town in order to attend college, that didn’t mean she owed him. She’d worked her butt off at the Midnight Saloon, putting in far more hours than anyone else, coming in for the early shifts no one else wanted to make up for all the nights she had to take off for her pom squad’s performances. She’d more than earned her weekly paycheck. It sure hadn’t come from the goodness of John’s heart.

And besides, his death tonight
wasn’t her fault!

Except deep down inside her something said it
was
her fault, at least in part.

John wasn’t all bad, despite his desperate bid to escape the Grim Reaper. True, he’d been a tough boss to work for, grouchy, abrassive to the extreme sometimes, more than a little mysogenistic, and probably an alcoholic judging by the number of shots he tossed back every night after the bar closed.

But he’d also been genuinely concerned about his employees, even the female ones. He worked with their wildly varying schedules, from college classes and day jobs that sometimes ran late, to all her pom squad’s performance, practice and fundraiser events. And though he hadn’t had a lick of marketing sense, he’d seemed to work hard to run the bar at enough of a profit to ensure they had jobs to come back to week after week, a tough feat to pull off in this current recession even if theirs hadn’t been a business that revolved around selling nonessentials.

And now he was dead. It was an accident, but it was still because of her. After all, he probably wouldn’t have been under so much stress and excitement if he hadn’t been anticipating cheating death forever tonight. Which he never would have been able to hope for if she hadn’t lost control with that stupid rapist wannabe and then further screwed up and allowed John to see her all vamped out.

If she had just maintained control, none of this would have happened and John would be busy tossing back the shots while counting out the night’s take right about now in that crappy little office of his, instead of on his way to some morgue somewhere and probably cursing her all to Hell and back from wherever his spirit had wound up.

She lay in bed, her mind chasing itself round and round with all the what ifs and maybes. Two hours later, she finally fell into an exhausted sleep that still offered no refuge from her guilt. But this time it wasn’t her boss who filled her nightmares.

It was memories of Kilo, her maker, and those fateful two days a month and a half ago when she fell into his dark, life
changing web of evil…

* * * * *

She’d just left the
Midnight
Saloon after another January night of bartending and was crossing the blustery, shadowed parking lot when a flash of something pale and moving in a nearby alley caught her eye. She turned her head and took a couple of steps in that direction, her grip tightening on the padded edge of her motorcycle helmet. Two feminine, bare legs kicked out into the night air. Between them, a man in a black duster
style coat held their owner pinned to the crumbling brick wall of the neighboring building.

She didn’t hear any screams. But her gut told her those legs weren’t kicking out in passion. The woman was being attacked. She was fighting for her life.

Brianna never hesitated, never considered the risks. She simply ran at the man. Her motorcycle helmet made a heavy cracking sound as she slammed it against his right temple with both her hands. That kind of a blow could have killed any normal man; it should have at least knocked this one unconscious.

Instead, the bastard turned and sneered at her.

Dear God, were those
fangs
in his mouth?

Blood poured down his victim’s neck above her pale-colored dress. The dark fluid trickled down along the edge of the dress’s v
neck collar to pool within her cleavage, darkening the dress along its path. Her coat lay in a dirty puddle near her feet, its crumpled heap of light and dark plaid wool soaking up the winter’s filthy moisture.

The man dropped his first victim, and Brianna had just enough time to feel a moment’s rush of fear. Then he grabbed Brianna’s throat and thrust her up into the air with one hand so that only the toes of her boots dragged along the graveled lot. The next instant she found herself enclosed within his dark embrace. Blinding pain exploded within the muscles on the side of her neck as his horrible, scowling face bent over her and the stench of something dead and rotting filled her nose.

The world turned black.

When Brianna awoke, she was sprawled on a satin canopied bed, her wrists and ankles loosely encased in old
fashioned manacles. She ached all over as if she had the flu and was utterly exhausted; even lifting her head to look around was a supreme struggle. She managed this small movement, though, gritting her teeth against the pain burning across the side of her neck while she studied her surroundings.

Three black walls decorated with antique
looking swords formed her new prison. She couldn’t see what the fourth wall behind her head held. On her right, cold night air billowed gauzy white fabric on either side of a set of French doors. The fabric blew towards her like two long, beckoning arms begging her to run towards them. The same wind brushed icy, unseen tendrils over her body, making her shiver with the sudden, horrible realization that all but her bra and bikini-cut panties had been stripped away.

Her attacker appeared.
Appeared
was the only way she could describe his entrance. He came through no doors, made no sound to warn of his impending approach. One second Brianna was the only person in the room. The next, he was standing between her and the French doors.

What the hell...?
her mind stumbled over the thought.

“My name is Kilo, and you cannot escape. At least, not until I am done with you,” he said, his fangs glinting where they curved over his thin lower lip like a snake’s. She half expected him to stick out a forked tongue next and start hissing at her.

She glared at him, instant hatred boiling in her chest. Refusing to be intimidated into a quick reply, she kept her mouth shut and took her time studying this gothic
loving vampire wannabe. He’d certainly studied well for his obsession. Long black hair pulled back into a ponytail with a black ribbon revealed Kilo’s pale white face and cruelly hooked nose. His eyes flashed a pale violet, which had to be fake.

“Nice contacts, asshole,” she spat out as her teeth began to chatter from the cold.

“They are not contacts, I assure you,” he murmured with a smile, reaching up to idly finger the lace edges of his white shirt.

“Your shirt looks like one of those pathetic tuxes from the eighties. Did you have to pay extra for the nerdy ruffles down the front, or did they come free of charge?” she blurted, then winced. Antagonizing this guy wasn’t the way to go. Not if she wanted to make it out of here alive. She clenched her teeth to stop them from chattering against each other. Goose bumps covered every inch of her skin, and the muscles along the tops of her thighs cramped painfully.

He only smiled and sat down beside her on the bed. As his long nailed fingers reached out to touch her bare body, her stomach rolled and threatened to heave.

“Get your hands off me!” she hissed out between her teeth. Should she scream? Would someone come to help her if she did? Or would it push him to kill her?

Despite the venom in her voice, Kilo continued to smile. His hand reached out towards her right breast, then hovered a fraction of an inch over its black lace covering.

“Brianna, you will come to crave my touch. There is no need to fight me, for you cannot withstand me.” His creepy voice whispered over her body like stealthy fingers that traced her every curve before stealing into her mind to leave her paralyzed with mind numbing fear.

“No, I won’t,” she gasped out, stunned to find her body would no longer respond to any of her commands.
Fight, hit him, kick him, anything,
she screamed within her mind. No response came from any of her limbs though, no matter how hard she tried. It was as if he’d just injected some kind of date rape drug into her system. She could feel everything but do nothing to save herself.

She couldn’t stand to see his leering, beady eyes devouring her body, so she closed her eyes in a futile attempt to shut him out.

Brianna, I will make you scream with passion,
Kilo’s voice twisted through her mind.

Get out of my head, you son of a bitch,
she screamed without words at him. Oh God, how could he be inside her head like this?

Ah, but your mind is the most lovely part of you. Why do you fight your body’s wishes so?

Incredibly, she felt her body’s hormones kicking in. It had been so long since she’d had a lover, so long since she’d even brought herself any physical pleasure. She’d thought that part of her was under her complete control. Yet somehow he managed to make her body awaken at his command despite how much he disgusted her.

And because of it, she hated him then as she’d never hated anyone ever before.

My mind is in control of my body,
she argued mentally with him, fighting valiantly to prove it true.

But you are missing out on so much. I can make you feel so much,
Kilo’s voice whispered inside her head.
Relax and let yourself feel. Feel me. Feel my hands caressing your breasts.

You’re right, I can’t physically fight you,
she agreed through her hatred for him.
But I promise you, someday I will kill you.

She tried to think about anything else as tears slipped from the corners of her eyes to burn hot trails down towards her ears.

Brianna, I will make you mine
.
Say you want me.

Never,
she answered.

Say you want me,
his voice demanded again, grating against her thoughts, filling her mind with icy knives that shredded the one part of her she thought was untouchable.

I want to kill you,
her mind replied, and she strained against the manacles. The metal bit into her wrists, giving her a different physical sensation to focus on. Anything to feel on her skin besides him and the equally hated tears sliding down her face.

His laugh reverberated through her mind, and she wanted to scream aloud.
Brianna, you will always be mine. Physically as well as mentally. Even as I take your body, I claim you as mine for all eternity.

Then she felt the physical invasion of him, cold and unyielding as marble slamming into her, and she did scream. Her pain, fury, and humiliation poured out of her lungs even as her heart shattered beneath the crushing weight of his darkness. She would never be whole again. Never.

Just when she thought she couldn’t endure the attack any longer, when her soul cried out its first form of desperate prayer for death, Kilo bit her neck again.

The pain from this bite was a thousand times worse than the first one in the alley outside the bar. Every other sensation left her as her pain receptors focused on those two searing points on her neck. Then the stabbing sensation faded away as well. Brianna seemed to have no worldly body anymore as everything turned black around her. She’d never seen such an absence of all light or color like this. And why couldn’t she feel her body or the cold winter air anymore?

“You have a choice now, Brianna,” she heard Kilo tell her from far away. “Either will yourself to drink, or die.”

I can’t feel my body,
Brianna thought with a new kind of terror.
Am I dying? Why do I have to drink?

Drink and live forever, or die. That is your choice.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to live forever. But now that she was actually at the edge of death, she also was no longer sure she wanted to die either.

As long as she was alive, there was a chance for escape. And then revenge.

With no other choice for survival, Brianna told her body to drink and fell headlong into an all-encompassing pain she’d never felt before and hoped never to feel again. She drowned in that pain as if flailing helplessly within the ocean on a moonless night, sucked under as wave after blinding wave of darkness crashed over her.