Chapter 20
Dante
THE HARSH SOUND OF THE TRUNK I just closed over his lifeless body is both liberating and smothering. Now that it's all over, all that remains are the questions that continue to live on despite all endings.
What has become of me, or rather, why am I the one still standing when they are six feet under? Where are these winds taking me and why? Why be here at all? These were the themes of my youth before I found her, before she looked me in the eye and bloodied her hands in the name of us both. There are no words, only love and a resounding answer.
I will build a life that will nourish the woman who is my only reason for living. This will be my purpose until the day I die.
The thought of being worthy of her will be my mantra, even if I just know by the look in her eyes that she will be by my side through thick and thin.
Nevertheless, our table will be full; her feet will be warm and her mind peaceful. And I will hold her in my arms at night, knowing that tomorrow we'll face a storm together caused by the world outside, not the one within ourselves.
"Where to?" she asks, looking at my hands stained with oil residue from the canister I left in the trunk next to his body.
"How do you feel about a midnight walk in the woods under the bleeding moon, mia cara?" I ask cleaning my hands with a rag and trying for the life of me to phantom the number of good deeds I must have done in several past lifetimes in order to witness her beauty from up close.
"Will there be marshmallows?" she asks, raising an eyebrow and giving me a sheepish smile after we get in the car.
"I don’t have any with me. Why?" I ask, slightly confused and then it hits me. Damn, sometimes I forget how alike our minds are. "How did you know?"
"Well, the point is to make him untraceable and the bones are the easiest to make disappear. Apart from that, I was just craving something sweet," she says with ease, turning her back to the window and resting her feet into my lap.
"Pazzo di te," I say to myself, shaking my head in wonder as we exit the cave through the main passage way.
"La vita is indeed bella," she says with a soul warming smile that strangely enough is not burdened by heaviness; my heart softening at hearing her speak in my mother tongue.
"La mia brava ragazza è andata a male" I remark, both concerned for her state of mind and fascinated as I take her hand in mine, kissing it.
"I like the sound of it. What does it mean?"
"My good girl, gone bad. I’ve seen it from a mile away, but nothing really ever prepares you for the reality of it," I say skimming the back of my knuckles over her knees.
"My love, people are rarely made of one color only. Also, you've just accomplished the most difficult thing anyone could have achieved in my case and it didn't take a lifetime to make it happen either," she sighs, looking both happy and sad.
"Why is that?" I ask intrigued even though I already know the answer. I love hearing her theories, the sound of peeling layers.
"You made me surpass what I believed to be my baser nature, when in truth you showed me a deeper side of myself. A colder, vindictive one I wasn’t even aware of. Good or bad, that’s a subjective matter but you changed me regardless."
"Can you live with it?" I ask, concerned for her emotional well-being even though it’s already too late at this point.
"For you I would suffer much worse. I would strip myself completely of this life, no questions asked," she says, leaving me speechless.
I want to tell her that I would burn the entire world for her. That there isn’t a man I wouldn’t end in her name, that no boundary would be sacred enough for me not to cross if that would mean she’ll never shed a tear again. But words, for us hungry souls, mean nothing in the end.
I'd rather have her experience my devotion than just hear it. And she will, every second, until the very last and beyond.
I slow down at the sight of the fresh hole I dug out yesterday, unwilling to waste precious hours of my life with more complex methods of disposal now that he is finally erased from this world.
"Do you want to stay in the car?" I ask, genuinely curious to see how far she is willing to go once the reality of what we have done kicks in.
Ombra doesn't utter a word, but gives me a charged look that could travel across worlds as she steps out into the crisp, late autumn air.
I follow her, opening the trunk and uncovering the body bag where I have discarded Sullivan’s sorry corpse, who now seems to have doubled in weight. From the looks of it, rigor mortis has already settled in, transforming his body into a rigid mass of muscles and contorted bones.
Exhausted and goddamn done, I slam the bag to the ground and roll it with the back of my boot until it spills over the edge of the hole, feeling like everything I've been working towards has finally come to a peak.
This is it. Thirteen years have come and gone, but the pain remains.
In retrospect, I should have done it sooner, now I am aware of it. He wasn’t worth my twenties. He wasn’t worth a thing.
I guess I expected something else, perhaps a sense of closure. But there’s nothing to be found besides being profoundly tired beyond all comprehension.
As I look down, I can almost cry of frustration and pent up regret. All of it at the thought that what now lays taped up in a plastic bag like a used rug had destroyed my life; that he held this sick power over me long after the massacre of my family.
"It's okay. You're okay, love," Ombra says softly while resting her head between my shoulder blades, her loving arms wrapping around my waist.
"I still had a crumb of hope that it would feel different," I say, cupping her hand that rests over my heart.
"You will breathe easier, even if the weight will hardly get lighter. You’ll see," she says, pressing herself deeper into me.
"Only because you’ll be there," I say, my foot kicking him down, right where he belongs. The thud that follows does little to settle my anguish, but I relish in it nonetheless. "Let’s burn him down."
I take the canister out of the trunk and pour its whole contents, the pungent scent of the chemical cocktail giving me the sense that I will also combust soon. Into what specifically, I have no idea nor do I care.
Without another thought, I light a cigarette and throw the zippo into the pit, the sound of flames instantly eating at the flesh, interrupting the silence of the forest at night.
"All these years…" I pause, inhaling deeply the scent of vendetta with no regrets. The same way he did.
All that is left to do is to watch it all burn.
Isn't that what this life is all about? It makes us mere witnesses to our own suffering, and ultimately forces us to realize that our hands were tied, no matter how hard we struggled in its web.
"Come back home, come back to me."
Life has also given me her , so it must also be merciful. After all, there is a universal balance at work.
"Mia cara?" I ask, I don’t know why. I need her reassurance, her mélange of safety and divine patience. Lord knows my soul demands it now more than ever.
"I am here, you are not alone with your pain anymore," she says, coming to my right. "Pour your void into me."
"Miss Grimes, get your dress off," I demand grimly as I watch the flame grow higher, fiercer. I need her in my bones, running through my veins, under my tongue, until all that consumes me is what I love instead of what I loathe.
"Mr. Malfermo, are you demanding a private show by the crematory fire?" she asks, licking her lips with calculated feline beauty, oozing eroticism through every pore as her nails tease her pulse point.
"La mia seduttrice, you have a way of reading my mind," I say, lowering myself on the ground and resting my weight on my elbows, pulsing with need at the sinful sight.
With the auburn glow of smoldering flames penetrating her dark tresses and illuminating the side of her face, she reminds me of no one – of all that is holy and sinful.
Ghostly eyes haunt my very being as she bites her bottom lip, while elegant hands cup and squeeze together those perfect breasts, long nails gliding across covered nipples. Fuck me.
She makes me so weak, utterly helpless under her soul-binding spell as she undoes each button of her silk blouse with agonizing slowness, taking her sweet time as she sways her hips with sensual moves.
The corset hugging her hourglass waist is both a blessing and a curse in disguise, as she peels away the long sleeves and strips off her skirt until she stands before me as the embodiment of my execution hour.
Damned with pain and bliss. That’s what I am.
I soak her in, from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. Ophelia Grimes is a very dangerous woman, the kind who could hold a room full of men by the throat at the mere mention of her name. And she is mine and mine alone.
Red bottoms, the highest money could buy, envelope elegant ankles wrapped in sheer tights held up by a garter belt, a silver of skin teasing my hungry gaze on her bare upper thigh.
Silky milk swallowed by black lace – a feast for my selfish heart.
Heavy breasts held by shell cups, rise with every breath she takes as she moves in harmony with the flames to her right, making her appear like an ancient deity waiting for me to make my offering; to please her just so she won’t annihilate me with her serpent stare and turn me into stone.
My shadow moves away from me, turning me feral, as she slowly circles the hole in the ground and drops to her knees, seductively grinding her hips into the freshly turned earth.
The picture is unreal as she buries her hand into her hair reaching her tailbone; the other slowly unfastening the corset and revealing a see through bra. Those nipples…
Out of breath, I lean on my back, trailing her silhouette between the flames that now reach the sky as she takes off her garter belt.
I growl and pulse as she walks on her hands and knees towards me like a huntress making her way towards her ultimate prey.
Upside down, I trace her glowing contours, and I fucking throb and twitch at the sight. She should be illegal. Good thing I am on the other side of the law since otherwise I would be a man unapologetically on death row.
For a charged second she rests her gaze on mine as she gravitates above me. That's all it takes for time to stop, for the cruel crusade of death to swerve around us, for our volatile existence to still.
My heart beats a mad rhythm as she slowly lowers her face and licks my chin, my lips, my nose, my forehead – breathing a spell into my hair before settling into my lap and bringing us face to face.
She runs her lips along my ear, gripping my hair tightly, the following words that slip out of her mouth altering me in ways beyond words. "Fuck the mortality out of me, Opium."
And that’s how a man dies an honest death.
"Do you have any idea what you’re asking?"
She licks her lips, removes her bra with steady hands and rocks her hips down the seam of my jeans, soaking them with the flavor of her and showing me exactly how serious she is. "How come we are still talking?"
Before she can moan another word, I turn her around; position her on all fours while hissing at the feel of her shaking under my possessive hands.
Vibrating with need myself, I wrap her hair around my hand before I unbuckle my belt with the other.
A low whimper escapes her lips as I pull aside her thong and spread her open with my tip, her impatience showing as she grinds into me. Perfection, we were born for this.
"Remember that you asked for it, mia vita," I say breathlessly, before plunging into her with punishing force, reducing our hearts to silence.
One second inside of her and I already feel the kind of pleasure that is so powerful it makes me arch with shockwaves as I sink into her with slow and rough thrusts; gripping her hips so hard her skin will flaunt lilac bruises tomorrow.
My marks, my skin, my woman.
I drag myself out slowly, adoring the whimper leaving her mouth a second before I slam back into her with abandon. I do it until I forget my name, until her arms give out and her head rests on the bed of dead grass beneath her cheek. Until her fingers dig into the earth, just like when, no –
"No! Come here, I need to see you, Ombra," I cry, fucking desperate for her eyes, unable to function without them all of a sudden.
"What? I can’t move…I – "she whimpers underneath me.
I release her hair, breathing easier the moment she's safely engulfed in my arms. Lost to fear and a burning need to consume her, I raise her chin and lock our eyes as my fervid fingers remove the wisps of hair and grass that cling to her lashes.
"I won’t let the earth have you, not until we'll share it together," I say gravely over her mouth.
She moans at my words before I plunge back into her heat, regaining my peace when I lace our fingers to the ground. As we melt, fold, squeeze, bend, seek – we return home, where nothing ever hurts.
I growl viciously at the feel of her nails on my back like small, individual knives, at the piercing image of her hair like a halo of flames; at the desperation we both share to become a permanent extension of the other.
Our frantic bodies become blind to positions, limbs, pace while our savage passion morphs into something palpable dictating every thrust, shiver, lick.
And so we learn to endure the enormity of what condemns us on this earth – deeper than pleasure. Larger than fear. Hungrier than want.
My tongue finds her nipple as she lies on her back with her hand gripping the back of my thigh, almost levitating as my arm circles her waist.
I feel her burning and aching as I yank her deeper down my length, the new angle making us moan like wild animals in unison.
"You’re the love of my life, the love – the love of my life," she chants into my neck before I capture her lips in a bruising kiss, possessing her as I fuck her soul into eternity.
Stormy eyes roll in the back of her head, while I wrap my hand around her neck and squeeze, caress, worship. Dazed and absorbed to the marrow by the shattering climax that threatens to split us both in two, I can no longer grasp reality.
"If we’re gonna die, I’ll follow you wherever you may go," I say against her parted lips, ruthless in my need to have her under my skin. Forever.
Disturbed down to my foundation, I can barely hear – see anything other than her. The charged current between us is too potent, too intense. Every touch becomes rougher as it buries us in pleasure, uneven as our eyes remain steady and our moans turn into cries.
The depraved sound travels all the way to the roots of everything I am, surrendering at the feel of her gripping me like a vice. There’s a split second of our tongues meeting and that's all it takes for us both to reach nirvana.
A rapture right through my center takes hold of me, while a blinding pleasure ripples through my whole body in violent waves.
I scream my release, the sound seeming to burst from an entirely different set of vocal cords than my own, while I spill inside of her everything I have to give; grinding my teeth with every choppy thrust of my hips until she’s full of me.
There’s no revenge to fulfill in mind, no smell of burning flesh, no imminent danger – just this sense of absolution, of a long-awaited end that only paves the way for a new beginning. One that cannot be bought or bargained for because it comes in the form of the woman in my arms, who is now spent and filled with my love for her.
"Ti amo, endlessly" I whisper in her hair, before kissing her temple. The seconds pass slowly and are all ours. I inhale her deeply as I run my fingers along her bare spine while holding her tight; still somehow fearing that she might disappear like a mirage that appeared with the fire still burning the bones of evil beneath us.
"So much," she murmurs in my neck and there are no words for the flood of warmth I feel deep in my chest every time she confirms to me that I am not alone in this purifying illness of ours.
Relaxed, I unclench my jaw, a spark from the nearby flame grazing my cheek and causing my eyes to open. I freeze.
Something obscured by the night – a solid shape that doesn’t make sense in the mass of naked branches appears to be standing still in the tree line. On two feet.
Fury pulses in my veins like a wave of white-hot kerosene, scorching me from the inside out. Someone has been here all this time and has been watching, fucking stalking us.
There will be blood.
"In the car. Now," I grit out, covering her naked breasts with her discarded skirt before she realizes what is happening.
"What's wrong?" she asks with dread in her eyes and panic in her voice as I shut the car door behind her.
"Company. The soon to be dead kind," I dial Kane with my knife between my teeth as I put my pants back on.
My patience with this fucker has reached morrow and I’ll be damned if he gets to breathe for another day.
"Pazzo di te", it. Mad about you.
"La vita is indeed bella" it. Life is indeed beautiful.
"Ti amo" it. I love you.