Duality (Cordelia Kelly #1): Empath Urban Fantasy (6 page)

My darker side simmered with fire, rage, and consumed the sinister and raw pain of others without filtering them into light. She used them to fuel her own dismal outlook on the world and life in general. She was the ultimate cynic, and I suffered the backlash of all her pent up aggression and anger issues. She made me anxious.

I closed my eyes and inhaled, the scents wafting from his fingers an aphrodisiac to my darker nature. Delia stirred in me, but I held her off. If I unleashed her now, trouble would ensue.

For now, I’d bide my time. I’d allow him to think he commanded the situation. Then I’d make my move. I just wasn’t sure what my move would be yet.

We pulled into a darkened parking garage, and Dixon held my wrist firmly, pulling me from the car, my purse strap wrapped around my other arm so I didn't lose it. My mind raced with options. Should I kick him and run? I thought about the shoes I’d chosen and decided I needed to take them off first; otherwise, I wouldn’t get very far.

He towed me to the wall of elevators, and I figured there must be security cameras. I made a big show of grimacing and trying to tug myself from his grasp, but he maneuvered one arm across my shoulder and tucked me under his other arm, shielding potential cameras and crushing my wrist with his grip.

“I suggest you stop moving. I’d hate to break this.” He said as he squeezed. "And, if you're looking for security camera's or someone to rescue you, there aren't any. This is my private garage and entrance. I control everything." He punctuated his statement by grabbing a fistful of my hair and snapping my head back hard, my skull colliding with my spine.

I was no stranger to pain, but I liked to avoid injuries if possible. I wasn’t a masochist. “You don’t have to do this. I’m sure you could have your pick of women.”

He nodded. “I often do. But tonight, I want you. And I want you to scream.”

Every bad horror movie ran through my head as I squirmed and tried to break lose from his crushing grip. I was about to stomp my pointy heel into his foot when the elevator door dinged, and he fisted a handful of my hair, effectively controlling my movements.

Shit. I am so screwed.

With one hand crushing my wrist and the other yanking my hair, I was completely helpless. The doors closed and the elevator rose, my stomach dropping further with every floor we passed.

We exited the elevator, and I glanced up and down the hallway looking for a way out or cameras, then I remembered he said there weren't any and my spirit waned for a second.

When he stopped in front of his apartment, a barrage of residual emotional energy assaulted my psychic senses, and I cringed. The staggering scents made Dixon seem like a habitual pain giver and probably a rapist too.

Not me. Hell no, not me.

My mind worked overtime and came up with a hasty plan. When he let go of my wrist to open his door, I’d slam his face into the wall and run for the elevators. My muscles tensed in preparation, and he stopped to stare at me, twisting my wrist to the side hard.

“What are you planning, Cordelia?” he said with a sinister singsong of my name.

I didn’t think. I threw my head back and slammed his hand and my head against the wall at the same time I stomped my heel onto his foot.

Too bad my foot met carpet as he moved out of the way. He let go of my hair with a curse then backhanded me across the face again, sending me sprawling onto the hall floor. Unused to being manhandled, I lay stunned for a few moments. My cheeks pulsed and I tasted blood.

“Fucking bitch.” He reached down and snagged my hair again and pulled me up as I opened my mouth to cry out but stopped myself. I bit back tears of frustration and growing rage. I should yell, scream and try to get help. For some reason the words wouldn't come. There was no one here to help me.

I struggled against his hold, flailing my arms and legs.

Dixon positioned himself behind me with one hand across my mouth and the other wrapped around my waist, crushing me to him.

“Don’t move or I’ll slam your face into the door and break your nose.” He moved a step closer to his door and lined his eye up with some type of box. A red light zoomed across his eye as if he was a bar code.

Shit
. I didn’t plan on an orbital scan.
Geezus
. How much money did this fucker have? And why the hell did he need an orbital scanner to unlock his doors. What secrets did he have?

I was about to find out as the door nicked open, and he threw me onto the floor with a jarring thud. My head slammed back, and my jaw snapped forward into my clavicle. Pain lanced the back of my skull as I made contact with the marble tile, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth from biting my tongue. The clang of my lipstick, cellphone and compact sliding across the cold floor made me turn my head to the side to watch where they landed. My phone went under the hall table. I turned my head straight, my eyes catching movement.

Two seconds later, Dixon raised his foot above me, and before I could move, he stomped on my ankle with all his weight. A loud snap and a searing white-hot jolt coursed through me, forcing me to scream. My ankle pulsed, and I knew he’d broken the bones, probably crushed them into pieces, too.

He reared back and kicked me in the side, cracking my rib. My breath labored in my lungs, and I gasped. I couldn’t breath for a few moments. I lay there defenseless against a monster. Nothing had ever prepared me for this.

I howled in agony and tried to move to stem the pain, but within a few seconds, Delia pounded in my head, begging me to let her out and deal with Dixon. The torment made it difficult to think, to hold her back and stay in control.

I bit my lip and tried so hard because I feared what Delia would do to him. He was obviously a monster, and he clearly deserved to be brought to justice, but Delia would be his judge, jury, and executioner.

I fought the good fight, but the pain was too great and despite my noble intentions, I didn’t want to be raped or killed. I receded into the back of my mind and unleashed my darker side. I never gave a second glance, just closed the mental door and crawled into bed to heal and wait. As much as I loathed hurting someone, I’d let the darker side try to deal with this fucker. If I squeezed my eyes shut hard enough, maybe I wouldn’t know what happened. Wishful thinking, of course.

“So, you like pain?” I asked as I stretched my arms over my head and then looked down at the atrocious outfit my counterpart had picked out for us this evening. “You get off on hurting women?” A deep numbness surged through my body as I healed.

The dickhead who’d hurt us peered at me with a puzzled expression, trying to figure out why I wasn’t writhing on his expensive flooring in agony anymore. Little did he know, we only showed pain on the inside, and I was still hurting big time, but this piece of shit would never know just how much distress riffled through my body now.

I raced through the memory of this evening, giving Cordy credit for her actions. She did the right thing, except for when she let this asswipe take us to a secondary location. Did she not pay attention to anything Dominic taught us? She’d become lax and complacent. We couldn’t afford her love or light any longer.

Dixon lifted his foot and attempted to trample my ankle again, but I flicked my fingers at him, and little sparks spat from my tips to his pant legs as I lit them on fire.

“What the fuck! What the fuck!” he yelled as he backpedaled away from me and hit the door with his arms out wide. He frantically batted at the slow burning fire and extinguished the burn before the heat could do much damage.

Fine with me. My fun was just getting started.

The chaos of his home swirled around me. Distress, lacerations, agony, and suffering all flowed into me and lent me strength. Cordy didn’t quite understand this about us yet, but she’d figure it out soon enough when our ankle healed in a few moments. She wore rose-colored glasses—accepting people and always forgiving. She believed every person was inherently good, and they only occasionally did bad things. I sheltered her, so she didn’t crumble under the weight of knowledge that bad people truly exist.

Some people deserved to be put down. Though my first instinct is to protect, I am not above killing if warranted. And okay, I’d only killed one person, and that was an accident, but to be honest? I was so sick and tired of being good. So tired of being used.

Dixon broke out of his stupor and stalked over to me, still a hapless female lying at his feet, and grabbed me by the hair, dragging me to my feet. He put his face inches from mine and said in a sinister low tone, “I don’t know who you think you are, but you will spread your legs for me, even if I have to tie you to my bed.”

“Do you promise to tie me up?” I said, batting my eyelashes at him, not showing a hint of fear. And why should I fear him? My elemental power could roast him where he stood. Another ability Cordy refused to accept about us.

The very first time I used our rage I’d been sixteen and holding my father by the throat against a wall after he’d hit my mother. I’d envisioned our auras melding together. Then I’d made him relive every bad deed he’d ever done. His screams had been music to my ears. I’d smiled until I saw the look of horror on my mom’s face. I’d let him go, and he’d slumped to the ground bleeding from his ears. She’d rushed to his side, attempting to staunch the flow. I still don’t know if he lived or died.

My mom never spoke to me again. I’d fled the kitchen in tears and packed a bag when she’d screamed I was a monster. All I’d tried to do was protect her, and she renounced me.

And no, Cordy didn’t know about fusing auras. I hid our darker gifts from her, lest she think we were the monster our mother claimed. I knew she wasn’t ready to embrace us as a singular entity yet.

“Get on the counter and spread your legs,” Dixon demanded, and his disgusting tone snapped me out of my reverie.

“And if I don’t?” I feigned examining my nails in boredom as I casually stepped back towards the granite counter.

Fast hands reached out and seized my breasts, thumb and forefingers pinching my nipples in a bruising grip. “Don’t fuck with me, Cordelia. You won’t like what happens.”

The sharp pain spread from my nipples to my core, and I reveled in the sensation. I smiled. “Ooh, the painful tingle feels good.”

I reached down with faster hands and captured his cock through his slacks, digging my nails into his sensitive ball sack. “You should know better than to play with fire, Dixon. You will feel the burn.”

He cried out and released my breasts, taking a step back, one hand holding his nuts and the other palm out as if to ward off evil.

Was I evil?

“Who are you?”

I tossed my head back, laughed, and watched him move away. Human men were so easy to scare, especially men who borrowed their control from the fear and power over others. If you showed no fear, they remained powerless and weak.

Easy prey. They made delicious meals, and it was high time I fed properly, as my nature dictated.

I stalked towards him, relishing the way his eyes cast left and right, deciding his next course of action. My movements were slow and measured. I wanted his fear dancing across his skin and sweating out his pours.

His next course would be his last. I’d end his life. With every step forward, he moved back, and soon his ass hit a wall. “Look, this is a misunderstanding. I was playing with you. You can go.”

“But I don’t want to go, Dixon. You see, I’m hungry.” I let my desire to consume him show on my face, let him see my pupils dilate as I wet my lips in anticipation.

Sweat poured down his forehead and mixed with the heady aroma of nervous pheromones. Fear followed and I pressed my body into his, inhaling the scents and allowing them to fuel my fire. I stood on tiptoes and licked his neck, drinking his essence into me, calling his demons further to the surface, so I could sip his sins and bask in his wickedness.

His cock throbbed against me. He was hard, hot, and willing despite his fear. He was still a man, and I was a woman he wanted to fuck. He believed himself superior and stronger than me. He figured he’d take what he wanted then break me after.

“What—”

“Shh, be a lamb and let me work in peace.” I placed my index finger over his lips to silence him. I gave him a saucy wink and lowered to my knees in front of him, unzipping his pants as I went and letting them drop to the floor. I glanced up at him, and his eyes bespoke confusion and lust. His cock stood proudly, and I wrapped my hand around his length and stroked him once, twice, allowing him to relax before I opened my mouth and traced my tongue around his plump crown.

I licked the taste of his despair off my lips. “You have a huge cock, Dixon. Do you want this fast or slow?”

My preference would be to kill him slowly, so as to savor his demise. But I was not without compassion. Torture was not my forte, and in fact, I think Cordy might crack if I allowed us to be consumed completely by the darkness we held inside. But I’d leave the decision up to Dixon. Almost too bad he didn’t understand the question.

“Slow. I want you to go slow.”

I sighed and shrugged. Remorse didn’t reside in me at the moment. I rode high on frenetic energy and the devilish decadence my meal would provide. “As you wish.”

I opened my mouth one last time and began to slowly suck the life out of him with each stroke of my tongue. His eyes rolled back, and he slumped against the wall, panting, coming closer to completion and death with every pump of his hips.

He tangled his hands in my hair and tried to fuck my mouth, but his strength was waning and mine was increasing. “So good. Your mouth feels like heaven and hell.”

I hummed and he gasped. I reached under and caressed his balls, coaxing his life essence into the small space, pulling his soul down and preparing the vileness for consumption.

I’d never actually done this before. At eighteen, my gram’s bodyguard had tracked me down and brought me to her house to live. There I learned the truth about my future, my lineage, and about some of the darker aspects of harvesting energy, life, and souls. Most empaths of the light don’t kill without ending up insane. Death goes against our moral code. My dad was never around much, and when he was home, he and my mother fought. My mother was sweet and giving, but the toll my dad's darkness took on her turned her into an empty shell, scarred and unable to find her inner light. She walked, talked and dressed, but inside, she was hollow and unable to bridge the chasm.

I banked on my dual heritage, hoping I might pull this off and end up only mildly crazy. I hoped Cordy would forgive me. And Sol.

Oh God, what will Sol think of me?

“Oh yeah, baby, you are amazing.”

I stopped sucking and pulled him from my mouth, growling. “Don’t call me baby.”
Only Sol can call me baby.

“Whatever you want, just keep going. Don’t stop.”

I sucked him deeper and harder and decided to get this over with. The light side of me stirred, Cordy rose in her white dress as I called for his death, justifying my course to the higher powers by offering them proof of his transgressions by way of auric view. Then she closed her eyes, turned her face away, and let me work alone. I fused my aura to his and showed them in vibrant detail all the women he’d abused, the two he’d killed, and the countless others he’d taken advantage of.

Above me, Dixon screamed, and a bright white light flashed, a signal of some sort. I sucked him harder and faster until he exploded in my mouth just as his heart imploded in his chest. His body shook and trembled. My dying marionette and I jerked harder on his strings. The slippery toxic elixir coated the back of my throat, and I nearly gagged from disgust and a bit of lust. My heart pounded so loudly in my ears starbursts of color flared in front of my eyes.

Dixon collapsed onto the floor in a heap of death, and the world tilted sideways as I fell to the floor beside him.

Poison laced blood shot through my system like shooting stars, and I’d never felt more alive—or powerful. Darkness controlled my mind as I lay there on the cold marble floor and allowed the chaos to swirl inside me, a complex miasma of thoughts, energy, pain, anguish. The deadly mixture blended with and bound itself to my essence, drowning my light and basking me only in darkness.

The harsh echoes of Dixon’s screams and his victims’ sang to me, and I realized this was what the dark empaths who harvest life energy search for—the ultimate high. Just when I was about to stand up and find another source, a black pit swallowed me, and then there was nothing but an empty void.