My knuckles were red. Her neck was too. So were all the bites and marks I’d left on her.
I lowered my hands to her shoulders and forced myself back to reality.
The result was prima facie evidence.
I had not done anything bad. Choice. It all came down to choice.
After that frenzied sex, the water lulled us.
Then I asked her if I was human, and that nod of hers said yes.
“Let’s go pack.” I’d said that as if her conclusion was completely true. Nothing to see here folks, move along.
My question had brought the answer I needed. Did it matter if I doubted? The results and my choices were what mattered, not my deranged fetishes.
Choice, and I’d learned how to make good choices.
There had been days when my powers could sense certain susceptible women at great distances – as if absence had indeed made my heart grow fonder. When she flew over the farm, Georgia plucked at my senses. I was like a werewolf scenting fresh blood, new succulent flesh, and yet I had done nothing to her.
Choice.
I helped Red up from where she sat in the creek, saw her slip on the uneven rock bed and caught her elbow to guide her.
It was also true I might never lose these urges to do sadistic damage to her and to other women. And I did fear myself. What if I screwed up?
The solution I intended to experiment with was to regularly let my monster out to play, in a carefully monitored situation. I needed a situation where others would stop me if I strayed. Or at the least slow me down, because I could remove myself from those who sought to deny me and take my cruelty elsewhere. Nevertheless, they would be a logical roadblock to any mesmer urges.
At least now I had practice in making good choices.
I already had the place and the people.
Love was still incomprehensible to me, but my Red was precious. I would not squander her on my cravings.
When we’d packed up, dressed and were in the car driving back to the house, with the dust swirling and spitting off the tires as we traversed the small backroads, I told her my plan.
“I’ve made us a date to go to a party a few towns over.” I looked to her, and she crossed her legs, revealing the shine of beautiful thigh as the dress slid.
“Oh?”
“It’s a kink party. BDSM.”
“How?”
“How did I find out about it? The usual. Someone who knows someone told me.”
Her mouth twitched. “Of course. You did say something.”
It had been easy once I saw the need in one woman at the pub. From her I extracted another name. That led to another, and so on. The people links led to the party. The hostess knew I was coming. We would fit in once I altered a few attitudes. The men would be suspicious of a newcomer, but their women would say they knew us.
Red would find out more on the night. My nastier compulsions would have an outlet.
The big suitcase – I hardened, imagining this – she would be getting in there for me. Trundling that big case into the party with her locked inside, tied up for me – the best introduction ever.
This would throttle me back from the brink. We would go to regular play parties where I could experiment on Red. And other women?
I considered that. Maybe it would be possible.
We’d come so far.
I had Red liking me. Keeping her was on my To Do List, and I believed she’d penciled me in on hers. I sat back in the seat and sighed, and she said something.
“Sure.”
“What?” I raised a brow as I swung the wheel to take the corner. An SUV was coming up behind us. The roads here were sparsely used, and I wondered who would speed on these dirt roads.
“Was that a yes to the kink party?” I hadn’t actually meant to ask her permission, but okay.
“Yes. And you know why? Because I trust you.”
“Good.” I smiled.
The smile died when I saw two cars blocking the road ahead. I braked, slowly. The one behind us stopped a car length back. A ditch and trees to either side made going around them impossible. Several men spilled from the vehicles, both in front and behind, and guns were being aimed at us. Handguns plus one long gun. They spread out and walked toward us. Four to the back and six in front.
This was more than a robbery. It was an ambush.
“Fuck,” Red said in a taut whisper. I sensed her fear. “If this is the same man…”
“Yes.”
“This does not look good.”
“No. It does not.” I reached over and squeezed her leg.
“Get out! Get the fuck out and put your hands up where we can see them! Now!”
“Be calm. Behave for them, Red. I’ll fix this.” Eventually. I raised my hands, wondering how they thought we could do this and also open the doors.
The drug was keeping me too fucking calm, but even so my jaw ached with fury.
The doors were ripped open to either side, and they shoved guns at us while the others hauled us out. Punching anyone was pretty futile.
I thought of telling them they’d be dead soon, but it would be more satisfying to simply show them. They would see.
A distant throbbing sound in the sky grew louder, and a helicopter flew overhead then landed somewhere ahead. The organization in this was pretty daunting. So much money was being expended on catching me, or catching us.
I exchanged a last reassuring glance with Red.
“Move!” Most of these guys wore sunglasses and baseball hats, along with cheap jeans and T-shirts. A mob of short-haired, muscular grunts who’d been paid to
