13. Dahlia
Sunlight piercedthrough the slats of the blinds, landing like stripes of fire on my skin, and ripping me away from my sleep. I blinked away the remnants of dreams of fire and blood. I lifted my head to find Drake staring at me.
“We’re heading to the states,” he said without preamble as he pulled on his shirt. “I’ve got everything figured out. The new IDs will work. Ports will be a breeze. We’re done fucking running.”
His confidence was like a contagion, and despite the unease twisting in my gut, I got up, intrigued by his words. Drake had woven a web of certainty so tight around us that to doubt him now would be akin to blasphemy. Even in his heartbreak, I knew I could trust him to find a path to follow.
After washing up and getting dressed, we abandoned the sanctuary of shadows that the motel room provided with the promise of blood yet to be spilled. Drake strode ahead. I lagged behind, haunted by the echoes of screams that seemed to cling to his shadow. Also, I was fucking sleepy and needed coffee.
“I’m going to head down to the docks,” Drake said. “Going to secure us transport. Head to that shop there, and grab food and any supplies you think we’ll need.”
I nodded and took a wad of cash from him before crossing the road to the market. Even then, in the bright light of morning, I kept scanning the area for signs of Owen or Bri. They’d taken on an almost supernatural feel in my mind. How the fuck did they keep finding us. The only possible solution was that Owen had been much more intelligent and conniving than Drake had ever thought. If he had been smooth enough to pull that much wool over the eyes of someone as street smart and intelligent as Drake then he truly was a force to be worried about.
The grocery store down the road was a mundane slice of reality that grated against my senses. After everything we’d seen and done the last twenty-four hours it had a surreal yet banal feel to it. The fluorescent lighting was harsh, too bright after the velvet darkness we’d been cloaked in back in the motel. I moved through the aisles with mechanical efficiency, selecting provisions with little care for taste or pleasure. It was sustenance—fuel for the body, nothing more. All I tried to do was pick items that were shelf stable and would be easily packed into our backpacks. Along with the food, I grabbed a few other supplies, and a big twenty-four pack of bottled water.
The cashier gave me a once-over as I paid, her eyes skimming over the bruises that bloomed like dark blossoms on my skin, but she said nothing. They never did. No one had ever said anything. As a child I’d been covered in bruises. Many caused by my own parents, but most were from the rough hands of men—four and sometimes five times my age—who’d taken their pleasure from my body.
Returning to the dock struggling with the weight of my bags, I saw the boat bobbing gently in the water. Rather than a simple ship, it looked like a vessel of escape and a harbinger of violence, sharp and angular like a blade. Drake had already taken care of the formalities. We loaded our supplies in silence.
I watched as Drake wiped down the Land Rover with meticulous care, helping where I could, erasing our presence with a thoroughness that spoke of a man well-versed in the art of disappearing. Once satisfied, he turned to me, his smile cruel and beautiful in its promise of things to come. He tossed the keys onto the front seat and left the door open, begging the vehicle to be stolen.
“Let’s go.” There was no fleeing the hunger in his voice.
We boarded the boat, the ship rocking slightly below my feet as I loaded our supplies into the small living compartment below deck. It was a tiny room that held a single queen-sized bed, a two-person table and chairs, along with the smallest kitchenette I’d ever seen in my life. One stove burner, a wall mounted toaster oven, and sink so small I thought it would be hard for Drake to wash his hands in it.
Drake, apparently knowing how to captain a boat, went about unmooring us and getting us out into open water. As the land receded into the distance, I allowed myself a moment to revel in the almost carnal pleasure of the unknown that lay ahead. The fear of Owen and his plans was supplanted only by the excitement of bringing bloody screaming vengeance to him. This journey was a new chapter in our twisted saga. An erotic and dangerous dance with death that left my heart pounding and my body aching for the depravity only Drake could provide. The thoughts of the blood we would tear from Owen’s body made me fight not to beg Drake to fuck me right then and there before he’d even made it to sea.
The hull cleaved through the water with a steady shush, leaving frothy trails of white in its wake. Drake stood at the helm, his figure silhouetted against the vastness of the ocean, eyes fixed on the horizon, a predator in his element. The salt-laden wind tangled my hair as I approached him, the sway of the boat beneath our feet like a lover’s insistent hands.
“Can you tell me the rest of the plan now, please,” I said, my voice barely louder than the roar of the waves and wind.
“We’re going to grab Owen’s Achilles’ heel,” he said. “The only thing in the world I know that he cares about. Fucker didn’t think I knew. I suppose we both knew things about each other that we didn’t realize…” He trailed off and his eyes grew distant, probably visualizing his parents’ dead bodies.
“What is it? Who is it, I should say.”
“His nephew,” Drake said with a sneer.
“A nephew?” I frowned at the word.
It was so strange that Owen could have a family. Since I’d arrived in the playhouse, Owen/Sam had taken on a preternatural almost godlike quality. I don’t know what I’d thought, but a small sliver of my mind had decided he’d sprung, fully formed from the pits of hell, like some satanic Athena climbing out of Zeus’ head.
Drake was relentless, a quality that both terrified and aroused me. He had delved into Owen’s past with a meticulous obsession, unearthing secrets even Owen believed were buried deep enough to never see daylight.
“Owen spent years crafting his facade, but he couldn’t hide everything,” Drake continued, his lips curling into a sinister smile. “He’s got this soft spot—his sister’s kid, practically raised the boy after she died. And now, the little pawn is studying in Savannah.”
I leaned closer, drawn to the cold fire in his eyes. It was a dangerous move, a lethal game of chess, and we were about to make our play. If we did this, whatever had been holding Owen back would be dashed away. He’d had opportunities to kill us and had chosen not to. Possibly for a further plan, but more likely because he enjoyed watching us squirm. Now that restraint would go away.
“I was able to access my personal secure server on the burner phone. That’s still operational, so I have all the info and notes I’ve created over the years. Profiles, court documents and pictures. I’d kept tabs on this nephew in case I ever needed dirt on Owen.” He grinned maliciously into the wind. “Dues need to be paid.”
“Let’s hope your personal server has more on this nephew,” I murmured, watching as Drake set the boat to some kind of autopilot then went below. He fiddled with the satellite Wi-Fi connection that had come installed with the boat.
“Damn right it does. It’s at another safe house I have in the US. If the server is still running that means it’s still safe.” He growled, the frustration evident in his clenched jaw. “I should have gone there. Should have told my parents to leave their house and go there, maybe. I could have lied about why. If I’d only thought about things, I might have saved them. I should have known he’d go after them. This is all my fucking fault.”
“Stop that,” I said, kneeling down and touching his back. “You never could have known.” I pointed out. “To what he did to your parents. You hid them as best you could. If they still lived back home, then Owen would have probably killed them even sooner. Drake, don’t torture yourself. Save that for Owen.”
He paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. A moment later, his expression shifted from fury to triumph. “Got it. His location. It should still be accurate, though I haven’t updated it since a few weeks before we escaped the Playhouse.” He turned the laptop screen toward me. There, in the dim glow, was the address of the frat house where Owen’s precious nephew resided.
“Perfect.” My pulse quickened in anticipation of the depravity to come, the promise of chaos and violence igniting a dark hunger within me. The nephew was an innocent, but rules had changed. Owen had opened a door that couldn’t be closed so easily. He’d tormented and murdered Drake’s parents. Tit for tat, it seemed. With Drake, every act of terror was an act of love, each drop of blood spilled an offering to our twisted desires.
The morning sun slowly rose until it was high overhead. Drake spent the time guiding the boat at the steering wheel, gazing out into the open ocean like some ancient pirate or Viking king. I sat at the bow of the boat, leaning my chest on the metal rail and hanging my legs over the edge beneath. The horizon stretched out so far that it almost seemed as though we’d found ourselves as the last people on a planet flooded and ruined.
The boat’s engine hummed, a low growl that vibrated through the deck and into my bones. I leaned against the railing, letting the salty mist kiss my face, tasting like forbidden freedom. The sea was an endless stretch of gray blue, matching the storm swirling in my heart: violent, insatiable.
Drake still stood at the helm, and I eventually got up to join him, looking out at the ocean from his view. We stood like that in silence for several minutes before a question I’d been wanting to ask for months came bubbling up to my lips.
“Where did you find them?” My voice cut through the drone of the wind and waves, hungry for details.
Drake’s eyes, dark as the depths below us, never left the expanse before us. He knew what I meant. Where did he find his dolls for the playhouse? He licked his lips and took a deep breath before speaking.
“Therapy chat rooms, mostly. Broken souls reaching out for any kind of solace. People so broken that traditional therapy was no help. We provided... an alternative.”
I shivered, not from the chill but from excitement. “All over the world?”
“Definitely all over the States,” he confirmed with a half-cocked smirk that promised untold stories of twisted satisfaction. “Every now and then, I or Owen would go abroad and kidnap someone who needed punishment, but that was very risky, and we didn’t do it often. As for the dolls, they all came from within an eight to ten hour drive of Savannah for the most part.”
“Ever let any go?” It was another question that ate at me. Were any of the people in that house ever allowed to leave? Or was it a therapy that only had one ending?
“A couple,” he admitted, steering us with a steady hand. “Sometimes they took to the lifestyle. Our brand of therapy had a way of sticking with people.” He turned and looked at me, an eyebrow raised sardonically. “Like someone I know.”
“Risky,” I mused aloud, ignoring his jib. “Sort of like releasing chaos into the world. What if the people you let go aren’t as controlled as you are?”
“Calculated risks,” Drake admitted with a shrug. “We made sure they couldn’t trace anything back to us. Dropped them off unconscious; they had no idea where the safe house was, made sure they were clean of all evidence, and so on. Once they were on their own, they were free to live their lives as they wished. I always kept track though, just to make sure things didn’t go off the rails, but from what I’d seen they lived happy lives, released from their torment by the catharsis we provided.”
“Smart,” I murmured. In my mind, I tried to visualize what my life would be like had Drake or Sam released me after a few weeks. I knew for sure I wouldn’t have taken shit from anyone. I’d have been stronger and more powerful than ever in my life. It would have truly changed everything for me. Most of my issues came from a constant state of fear, worry, and self-loathing.
“We tried to be as careful as possible,” he said, his gaze flickering towards me with a hint of madness. “They wake up with no way to point anyone back to us. Plus, we only did it with people very likely to keep the secret so they might continue the work. And we, we are just shadows that dance away with the morning light. A dream or a nightmare that they’ll never quite know was real or not.”
The thrum of the engine vibrated beneath us as I watched the clouds go by, blending into a hazy mirage where sky and sea kissed. I lounged next to Drake, sitting beside him, my legs stretched out on the deck, the sun warming my skin—a stark contrast to the cold curiosity that churned inside me.
“What did you do with the bodies?” I asked, tilting my head up to catch his gaze. “I’ve always wondered. Mass grave in the forest or something?”
Drake’s lips twisted into a half-smile, a dark gleam in his eyes. “It’s an art,” he began, voice smooth like silk over barbed wire. “A bathtub served as our canvas, boiling water the medium.”
I leaned in, captivated by the grotesque imagery he painted. “Boiling?”
“To dissolve. Boiling makes them pliable, easier to dismember.” He described it clinically, as if recounting a recipe rather than the destruction of human remains.
“Then?”
“Lime,” he continued, “it eats away at what’s left—flesh, sinew, bones, teeth, all the evidence that once screamed humanity.”
I imagined the sizzle, the hiss of organic matter succumbing to chemical annihilation. “And then?” I pressed, not wanting the morbid tale to end.
“Whatever remains, we’d bag up. We’d take it to the river at night. The currents did the rest, scattering their last traces to oblivion.” His explanation was methodical, each step executed with precision, leaving nothing but ripples on the water’s surface.
“God, that’s…” I struggled for the right word, feeling a perverse sense of awe. “Sexy.” The word springing from my lips before I could stop them.
He turned to me, his grin wide and wolfish. “We are the apex predators, Dahlia. We leave no trace, only the legacy of fear.”
I stood and lunged at him then, unable to wait. We loved to fuck in blood and in the midst of all the horrors Drake had introduced me to.
Drake’s hands found their way under my shirt, fingernails raking along the skin of my stomach, biting down on my shoulder as my teeth sunk into his neck. A gasp burst from my mouth as the teeth punctured my skin, blood rushing to the surface like a crimson tide. He lapped at the blood like a vampire, and before I knew what was happening a quick and sharp orgasm rocked me. I groaned in pleasure and ran a hand across his crotch feeling his rock-hard cock within. He hadn’t even touched my pussy yet and I’d already come. That was a fun new experience.
I stripped as fast as I could, watching Drake shed his shirt and pull down his jeans, my blood smeared across his lips in a red streak. I didn’t even wait for him to get the pants completely off before I shoved him down onto his back and straddled him and sank onto his hard cock, impaling myself.
“Last night was for you,” I whispered and then thrust my hips against him. “Today is for me.”
“Yes ma’am.” Drake grasped my hips with fingers as strong as steel bands.
Panting, his length filled me again and again, his heat radiating through my body. I rode him hard, my nails digging into his chest, our bodies drenched in a mix of sweat and blood. Leaning forward, I took his nipple in my mouth and bit down, drawing a yelp from him.
“Fuck.” I moaned as the sound of his pain sent me into the throws of yet another climax.
His eyes were dark, devouring me as I moved, and power rushed through me as he thrust up into my cunt, hard and fast, bruising skin meeting sweaty skin. Above us, the sun shone down upon our coupling, a voyeur watching us fuck. I could imagine the rays of light as cosmic seed spurting down around and onto us.
Drake’s breath was hot and ragged in my ear, punctuated by the wet sounds of our bodies slamming together. I grinned and rode him harder than I’d ever fucked anyone in my life. Even the sharp pain of his cock banging into my cervix was a pleasurable pain that sent me reeling, ready to explode again. The pain and agony mixing and blurring with the ecstasy. A combination I never knew I loved until I met Drake.
Rising up, and steadying myself with a hand on his chest, I rocked on his cock. Blood from the bite wound dripped slowly down my collar bone until a single drop reached my nipple. I flicked it off with a finger and slid the blood across my tongue.
“Are you gonna fuck me hard or not, Drake?” I asked.
He growled, baring his teeth and rolling me over, pulling himself out of me and pressing me face down on the boat. A moment later, the massive cock was back inside me. Sweat dripped on my back from Drake’s exertions, and his grunts drowned out the wet slap of his dick into my pussy.
Finally, with a single powerful and mind-numbing surge, my last orgasm struck me. I shouted out, letting my voice echo across the open and vast ocean. Behind me, Drake screamed out his own release.
“God, you are so amazing,” Drake panted into my ear as he leaned forward to kiss the back of my neck.
“Let’s kill this fuck, and we can do that every day for the rest of our lives,” I said and rolled over to take him into my arms.