Chapter 4
“Where was he going?” I ask the blubbering piece of shit again as I drag my knife down the side of his face. This baby is sharp enough that it hardly needs any pressure to cut through skin like warm butter, and I can’t fight the smile it brings to my lips.
Jade would love this. She appreciates a beautiful knife, and this is one of my favorites down here.
Here, my weapons are more for show than for usability.
I mean, I use them, but they aren’t the same as the knives I usually carry on me.
Those need to be easily concealable and ready to use.
But here, everything is flashy. Most of them are things I saw in movies or shows and just had to have.
This specific blade is part of a set of ulak, better known as saber claws.
Pitch black, their grip is set in a wicked curve that gives them their name of “claws”.
Perfect for slicing and dicing anyone who gets close.
I don’t fight down here, though, and while I’ve used them a few times on the streets, they always get the best reaction from the unfortunate assholes who find themselves strapped to the chair.
Watching the fear grow in somebody’s eyes is almost as addictive as the sounds Jade makes when she falls apart.
Almost, but not quite. It won’t be long before I have her back, though, begging for me to fuck her while I worship her body.
Once I have her, I’ll never let her go again.
She’s far too precious, but until then, this will have to do.
Their screams can soothe the longing inside of me until she’s here.
Maybe once she’s back, we can take some of these assholes out together.
The thought of her cutting down those who deserve it.
The bastards covered in blood, crying and begging for their lives, are enough to make me hard.
Hell, the thought of her alone is enough for that, but I know she’s got a dark side, one that matches mine.
I’ve heard stories about it, seen brief glimpses.
I wonder if she’d let me fuck her while we torture them.
A shiver racks through my body as I attempt to keep myself under control.
The last thing I need is to be so close at just the thought.
That woman was made for me, for us. She’s perfect.
“I don’t know.”
My captive’s voice cuts through my daydream, shattering it, and I press the blade in deeper as punishment. He whimpers but doesn’t pull away. Smart. With the pressure I’m applying, he would only fuck himself up further if he pulled back, and my blade slammed into his face.
He doesn’t have a lot left in him anyway; he’s well past the point of fun.
After hours at this, he’s stopped begging for his life.
His tears are as dry as the piss that stains his jeans, fingers twisted at unnatural angles, nails missing.
His right eye is so swollen and bruised that he probably wouldn’t ever see out of it again, even if I let him live to heal. That’s not an option, though.
He isn’t leaving here, something that I’m pretty sure he’s come to realize.
“Wrong answer.”
I pull back completely, returning to the table to find my next means of persuasion. His eyes follow me, but that’s to be expected. Who wouldn’t want to know what the crazy guy is doing?
Make no mistake, I know what I am. I know most people don’t have this deep-seated need to make people bleed, scream, and feel pain like I do.
It started with fights and slowly became more.
Rick and Trent used to fight a lot in school, too.
Rick even used to go down to the rings with me, but where it was enough for them to beat someone, I craved more.
I didn’t want their submission. I want their blood on my hands, to watch the terror fill them before the light leaves their eyes.
Vengeance gave me a place to put it to good use and keep my needs in check while still driving us toward a goal. I haven’t felt this level of need in years, and I know it won’t stop until I have her back in my arms, but that’s fine.
Right now, I don’t want to stop.