2. North
Chapter 2
North
“ A ustin.” I cluck his name and frown. “Austin, Austin, Austin. It’s only been a week.” I sigh as I run my finger over the open wound on his chest, letting the pad trail along his marred flesh. I don’t even feel a zing of excitement at the way he squirms. “Why are you already so boring ?”
I usually have a better time with the people I take. Between me, my brother, and the odd jobs our dad sends me on that actually pay, I’m never left wanting for violence or bloodshed.
That doesn’t mean I hadn’t expected more from the man I currently have tied to a chair. He looks at me with his one good eye like I’m the devil, and I sigh. Even his expression isn’t doing it for me.
“Come on, Austin. I watched you beat the shit out of your girlfriend. I really thought you could take more than this.” I lift a blade from the table beside him and let out another annoyed sound when he screams behind the gag I have stuffed into his mouth. I usually like to hear their screams, but Austin started grating on my nerves after the third day and the second time he pissed his pants.
I’m over it already. It’s like some tragic relationship I’m trying to cling to, hoping something will change, that something will be different if I just believed hard enough .
Pathetic.
Nothing is changing. Austin looks like he wants to faint when I draw the flat of my blade against his cheek in a tease.
“Fuck, you aren’t even worth the price of the zip ties I used to catch you, are you?” I flip the knife in my hand and press the pointed end to the tattoo cutting across his throat. I’ve been extra careful not to damage it. It was the ink that drew my attention, after all—the ink I want to play with. The fact that he’s an abusive piece of shit is bonus points. I’ve noticed the ones who like to hit are usually the first to break under my special care.
This guy isn’t worth the fucking effort, though. He’s been a waste of a week, a waste of rope.
He’s a waste of air.
“Listen, Austin. I know this is sudden, and I know you might not have an answer for me right away… but I think we should take things to the next level.” I let a smile cross my features, trying to make sure it reaches the bright blue-green of my eyes. I have to kneel so we’re face to face because I tower over him. He’s already shaking his head, trying to beg me through the gag in his mouth, and there’s spit and something thicker dried to his chin. He’s a sweaty, disgusting mess, and the acrid scent of fear clinging to him is burning my nose.
I should love this.
I usually love this exact moment.
So why am I bored?
“What do you say, hm?” Against my better judgment, I pull the gag from his mouth and listen to him sputter and cough for a few minutes before he starts pleading.
“I have money—” Lies. He works at a fucking grocery store, for fuck’s sake. “I have a car, I have drugs . Fuck, you can have my girlfriend man, just please... please, let me g-go.” His begging ends on a whimper, and I blow out an aggravated breath.
Nothing.
Nothing .
“Fuck, you’re useless.” Unceremoniously, I draw the blade across the seam of his shitty tattoo and watch the ink split open like a second mouth. The gush of blood pouring across my hands is hot, almost steaming in the coolness of the building I have him stashed in. It’s one of the benefits of owning land—I have acres to bury bodies, woods where I can scatter bits and pieces for the animals to find—and my dad owning a construction business means I have access to whatever tools I need for easy disassembly.
I watch apathetically as the man in front of me twitches, jerking helplessly a few times before the blood loss is too much. His dark-brown eyes go wide, and a brief shiver of pleasure rushes along my spine as I watch the life drain away.
And… that’s it.
Just that little zip .
As quick as it came, it flees into the night air along with the little wet gurgling gasp of his last breath.
I throw the knife to the side and stand with a low curse, kicking the dead man’s broken shin as I make my way to the door of the building, only half closing it behind me.
Maybe the animals will find more satisfaction with his corpse than I did when he was alive.
No, he’ll probably just make them sick.
After that disappointment, I can feel tension twisting every nerve ending in my body. I glance down at my watch and breathe a soft sigh of relief. At least Austin didn’t fuck something else up. I have plenty of time to get home and get a shower before the show starts.
I can’t miss Cas. Especially not after the astronomical letdown that was Austin Rogers.
As an afterthought, I turn and close the door behind me, flipping off the corpse before I secure the lock. It’d be just my luck that the coyotes would drag his body out to the road and the police would find him. Austin seems the type to fuck my day up, even in death.
I’m home in plenty of time to get a shower and grab my tablet before Cas goes live. It’s not that I can’t stand to miss a show; I’ve done it before. I don’t know exactly when I became… interested in the pretty young camboy, but I’m not the kind of person who denies it when something catches my interest.
I know enough about him to know that his real name isn’t Cas… Ranen Greer lives about thirty minutes from me, and I may or may not have driven by his apartment a few times to catch a glimpse of him while he was out and about. I don’t consider myself a stalker or anything.
I’m a killer, but I’m not that big a creep.
But someone is . I can tell by the way Cas is acting, by the worry that bruises the pale skin beneath his pretty blue eyes. I’m sure other people don’t notice it… but I’m also sure if I knew other people were paying that much attention to him, I’d gouge their eyes out and feed them to them.
I settle down and click on his page, waiting for the Now Live screen to flicker so I can enter the chat. I have an anonymous name that isn’t linked to my bank account, though it isn’t like I’m ashamed of watching him. If my dad or brother asked, I’d just tell them the truth.
It’s research.
I’m researching every pale inch of Cas’s skin, memorizing it down to the smallest freckle and the way red blossoms across his chest in a splotchy flush when he orgasms. I’m thinking of all the ways I could hold him tight enough to bruise.
Okay. Maybe it could be argued that I’m a little obsessed.
As soon as the screen flickers to life, I feel some of the disappointed tension from earlier leave my body. He’s there, and he’s looking just as pretty as ever. I can still see a bit of worry dancing somewhere just behind his gaze, and it’s that expression that makes me stand up. It’s easy to flip from using my tablet to my phone, and I’m back outside and in my car without giving it much thought.
It isn’t the first time I’ve done this either. Since I realized where Ranen lived, I may have sat outside his apartment a few times while I watched his shows, just to see if he came out after, all loose and languid from fucking himself. I don’t make a habit of it, but I also don’t stop myself. I want to see him out in the world, with the sun on his skin and his body slightly flushed in a way only I’ll understand.
Stalking. Okay, yes. I maybe… occasionally stalk Ranen.
This time, it’s not about that. It’s instinct ripping through me and telling me something bad is going to happen. I don’t know if it’s his expression, or the way his eyes double-check the chat before he settles back on his chair with a fake version of his usual smile, but I know something is wrong.
I know I’ll feel better if I’m close by, even if I’m not going to do anything about it. I have occasionally entertained the idea of simply snatching him one night when he comes home late from the grocery store, but I don’t want to dim his light. I don’t want to cage him, even if there’s a huge part of me that wants to keep him.
I’ve been watching him for months, and I’m pretty sure that Ranen Greer was born to be mine.
“Hey, everyone.” His voice spills through the speakers on my phone, and I have to force myself not to glance away from the road too long to watch the way his lips form the words. “I wanted to make the show this week special, since we had some difficulties last time.”
Difficulties doesn’t cover the way he’d practically run from the screen, but it’s obvious he’s trying to avoid bringing attention to exactly how affected he’d been by whatever had bothered him. I was probably a little rougher than I should have been with Austin after, but I’m not really used to dealing with emotions like worry and concern.
If it meant I’d spent an hour trying to find out how many ways I could make Austin scream, it wasn’t hurting anyone but a dead man.
Ranen’s voice spills out again, and my knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. “You know, I’ve been expecting a shipment of new toys. It got here today, so I thought we could open them together, then put it to a vote to see which one I use. What do you think?” He sounds coy and sweet. Saccharine and seductive. He’s also smart as fuck, because he adds, “I thought it would be fun to lay everything out on the bed behind me. Whoever donates the most can pick which package I open first.”
Something else I admire about him is how unabashed he is about making his body a business. He knows what he looks like—he knows how sweet he sounds when he says things like that. And he knows people are willing to pay entirely too much to feel like they have a place in his life, a place in that room while he fucks himself into a whining, whimpering, writhing mess. It’s hot as fuck.
I’m about ten minutes away from his place and he’s already opened two boxes. One is a dildo that seems entirely too big for his own good, though some small part of me feels smug when I realize it’s around the same size as my cock. I don’t have to wonder whether he could take me, because I’ve seen him bounce on a fake dick like his life depended on it, riding it so deep it made his eyes roll back in his head.
When another ping of sound spills through the speakers, and he softly thanks the donator before reaching back onto the bed behind him, I can tell the instant something changes. Ranen’s voice goes softer, and there’s a slight tremble to the tone.
“I… what is this?” My eyes flick to the screen, but he has his back to me. I can’t see what he’s holding, and he can’t see when the door to his left slowly opens.
“Ranen.” I say his name like he can hear me, and something in my chest feels like it’s going to squeeze the life from me. I’ve only seen him do shows with one other person, and he always announces it first.
He can’t actually hear me when I shout his name louder and stomp my foot on the gas pedal. I can turn ten minutes into five—I can break my promise not to reveal myself to him.
But as the figure of a man slips into the room and shuts the door behind him, I don’t know if I’m going to be fast enough.