Authors: Jaden Wilkes
The Beast (19 page)
“
Madame
?” the crisp French waiter asked when Columbia raised her hand.
“
L’addition, s’il vous plait
,” she said and rubbed her thumb and forefinger indicating she wanted the cheque. He nodded at her and smiled as he left to get it from the counter inside.
“Your French is improving remarkably,” Dimitri told her and put his hand on hers. They were seated at a small cafe in the 10th arrondissement of Paris. It was a brilliant summer day and the street was busy with people coming and going. Both tourists and locals alik
e paid no attention to the well-dressed, elegant couple seated at the sidewalk patio of one of the hundreds of such cafes in the district.
Dimitri was less noticeable these days. They’d spent some months in Hong Kong where Columbia had convinced him to consult with some of the world’s best plastic surgeons to help repair the worst burns o
n his face. There was still a little evidence of the attack, it would never entirely go away, but now it appeared more of a shadow or a blemish than ruined flesh.
They’d decided to leave the rest alone though. In some twisted fatalism, the two had decided their scars were part of the reason they fell in love
, part of the reason they found one another. Columbia would giggle as she rubbed Dimitri’s bumpy spots, and Dimitri was endlessly fascinated while tracing the patterns Columbia had etched into her skin.
She hadn’t cut herself since being with him. They were both grateful for that. Initially they had worried about Dimitri’s nightmares, but a custom platinum collar lined with red velvet became her protection from his choking at night. She’d stopped using it all together a few months ago though, the longer he was with her, the less he dreamed of things that made him fight.
Their home was in Malta at the moment. Columbia loved their private beach, their sprawling mansion and manicured grounds. Eden came to visit from time to time, but never her mother. Her mother didn’t believe that Columbia had been abused and blamed her for the murder, even though mother and daughter were set up with more money than she could gamble away in a lifetime. Eden’s visits got longer each time, and they both suspected she would choose to live with them at some time in the future.
The concierge was ever present no matter where they lived. He had finally dropped his guard around
Columbia; in fact he now followed her around like a lovesick boy. This was a source of amusement for Dimitri though, he knew the love that he had with Columbia was not threatened by any other man on the planet. He also knew his old friend would never dare to touch his woman and risk being torn apart.
“I love Paris,” she said and sipped the last of her coffee as Dimitri settled the cheque. The waiter smiled at her, and blushed when she smiled back. She looked at Dimitri and laughed when she saw his bemused look.
“It looks like Paris loves you too,” he told her after the waiter left.
“What can I say? Everybody loves me,” she told him with a wink. She looked over his shoulder and played with the knot on the beautiful red scarf at her throat.
He noticed it and grimaced. He hated that he hurt her in any way. “I am so sorry,” he told her and grabbed her hand. “I was too rough last night.”
She shook her head and replied, “Don’t ever apologize for loving me so hard that it hurts. Every time you take me to the edge of death, and let me live, I know I am your truest love. I know you would die without me, and I cherish that with every beat of my heart.”
He looked down at his bicep, under his dress shirt it is was aching and bruised from her bites and said, “I feel your love too, little dove.” Last night’s bite a perfect twin to the bite shaped tattoo he now wore permanently over his heart. She smiled and he leaned across the table to kiss her deeply.
She pulled back suddenly and said, “There he is, Dimi, the fucker who did this to you.”
He was still a little shocked at the language that fell from her perfect lips at times, but he looked at his watch and said, “Right on time. Exactly where we knew he would be.”
Sergei was a creature of habit after all, and his current habit would become his downfall. His obsession with a Parisian chanteuse wo
uld force him to yield his underbelly every time he exited her apartment, every time he left her soft bed and softer curves, he was vulnerable. Dimitri and Columbia were here to take advantage of this vulnerability. Every time Dimitri thought about killing Sergei with his true love by his side, his heart did a comedic flip flop and his love for her grew ten fold. He grabbed her hand, felt for the knife under his shirt, tucked on the belt across his chest, and said, “Are you ready for this?”
She felt for her own knife now strapped to her midsection, only taken off when they
were naked and safe in each other’s company. She grinned at him and said, “I’m so ready. Let’s go get your revenge, my love, then go back to our hotel room and fuck like animals.” He loved the way she always seemed to pick up on his thoughts.
They stood up and walked together, following the man they were here to destroy. Sergei walked with a slight limp now, and it was a warm afternoon, so they soon caught up to him exactly where they had planned.
“
Excusez-moi
,” Columbia said and smiled when Sergei turned around. All he saw was her stunning face, sparkling green eyes and thick, luxurious black hair.
“
Oui
?” he asked as Dimitri rushed him into the narrow, dark alley. It was convenient that in the centre of this busy neighbourhood, such a place existed. At the end, between two ancient apartment buildings, it was cool and dark and quiet. Just a sliver of the blue sky with birds aloft were visible above them, there were no other signs of life.
“How did-” Sergei managed to say as recognition hit him with a jolt. He struggled to get away from Dimitri, but the younger, stronger and larger man held him still. Dimitri put one hand over Sergei’s mouth, and Sergei tried to bite but the thick leather gloves Dimitri had pulled on as they walked prevented him from doing any damage. Columbia had helped him test gloves until they found the perfect pair.
Columbia stood in front of the two men and said, “This is for what you did to Dimi,” as she lifted her loose blouse and unstrapped her knife. She saw Sergei’s eyes widen in fear as he realized what was going to happen. He struggled with new vigour, but was truly no match for her Dimi. “This is because you tried to kill him, you hurt him and you almost broke him.”
Dimitri’s heart was pounding, not from the adrenaline of the moment, he really was back in his element, but from the love he had for his fierce little warrior
queen. They had been training for months, both in Hong Kong, then in Malta. “Go ahead,” he told her, “exactly as we practiced.”
She narrowed her eyes and looked Sergei up and down. She spotted a place on his body where Dimitri had shown her and drove the knife in. She was surprised at how easily it
sank through flesh and fat and organs, into his heart. When she murdered her father, she had stabbed blindly, hitting bone and arteries and causing too much of a mess. This time, however, there was a small grunt from Sergei as the knife penetrated his body.
“I love you Dimi,” she said and wiped her blade on Sergei’s suit jacket, “I fucking love you so much.”
“I love you too,” he replied and leaned down to kiss her as Sergei dropped slowly to the ground and bled out between them. They pulled apart moments later, Dimitri folded the gloves in on themselves and shoved them into his pocket. He would toss them down the street at some point.
“Shall we go enjoy the rest of the day?” he asked and stepped over the cooling body of his former mentor.
“But of course,” she said and hooked her hand on his arm and followed him out of the narrow alleyway.
They could be any couple on any street in any city in the world. Except that they weren’t. They were twisted and dark and scarred and damaged...but they were perfectly normal and perfect for each other.
Jaden Wilkes lives on the prettiest farm in BC. She shares her space with her husband, children, an Irish Wolfhound named Tiberius, and several horses. When not writing, she can be found lurking around the dark corners of the internet looking for artful porn gifs and trying to convince people to buy her books…so thank you for buying her book.
Public Service Announcement:
Life is not a fucking fairy tale. I am pleased you enjoyed my novel, the story of two people able to find one another in this dark and terrible world. Two people who worked through their pain and past hurts to find a way to overcome all that caused them injury.
This is not how it works in real life. If any man hits you, abuses you, basically exhibits any of the sociopathological traits shown by pretty much all the men in this novel, run! Call the Domestic Violence hotline in your neck of the woods and get out. Your vagina is not magical, your love is not a healing elixir, and if he hurts you now, it will get worse.
Write your own happily ever after and find yourself.
Previous Work:
Reverse Cowgirl,
my first book. A sweet, steamy tale of love reunited.
Like Falling,
my second book. A tale of finding yourself, steamy sex and a cliffhanger.
Dirty Little Freaks,
my third book. Hot sex, dirty talk, drugs, rock n roll and a love like no other.
Upcoming Work:
Therapist (Expected May, 2014).
Kamikaze, a Love Story (Expected July 2014).
Please feel
free to stalk me hard. I can be found in many of the following places, sometimes all at once…:
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJadenWilkes
https://www.goodreads.com/JadenWilkes
https://twitter.com/JWilkesAuthor
from Therapist (Expected May, 2014)
**Rough first draft, subject to change and really bad karma if you mock me openly for poor grammar or sentence structure.
Part way through our drinks, the chef sends out some
amuse bouches
for our party. I lean back to let the waitress set the tiny dish in front of me, and that’s when I see her. At first I catch a glimpse of long legs in black stockings, a short, tight fitting black dress, elbow length white evening gloves and elegant heels. Very old Hollywood, and not exactly out of place in a high-end restaurant such as this, but noticeable because she is smoking. Vancouver has been a no smoking city for several years and I am entranced by her and the defiant smoke hanging in the air around her head like a halo. She is mostly in shadow, I can barely see her face, but I can make out her dark red, full lips parting to receive the cigarette. I watch her inhale and the end lights up, a signal in the midst of the noise.
I want to taste her mouth, I want to slide my tongue in between those lips and suck the nicotine from her moist insides. I’m not a smoker, but my body craves her taste.
“Hey, are you going to eat that?” Jason breaks into my reverie. I turn and smile at him, reach down and pop the miniscule crab cake into my mouth.
“Fucking right I am,” I say and the group laughs. I am such a card.
I turn back and see that she has gotten up and is leaving the restaurant. I just see the back of her now. Her hair is black and thick and rolls down her body like a landscape, and I see the flashing red soles of her Louboutins. Her stride has the slightest seductive wiggle as she exits. Just as the door is closing, she turns and looks at me. I want to look away, because I have been caught staring at her ass, but I cannot. She arches one perfectly sculpted brow, a smirk passes over her lips, and she is gone.
I shake my head and turn back to the group. I can’t escape the feeling that I know that woman from somewhere though. I look back at the doors, half expecting her to return, but she hasn’t.
I join the conversation and argue amicably about the latest season of The Bachelor. I have never seen an episode, but I can fake my way through anything. I spend the rest of the evening with my mind half at the table, and of it half gone with the woman. I can’t make myself focus fully. Nobody notices, and we wrap up the night on a happy note. They love me, I love me, it’s all good.
On the way out I notice a cigarette butt just outside the door. It’s stained with bright red lipstick, so I bend and slip it into the pocket of my suit jacket.
“What was that?” Blythe asks as she slips her handbag over her shoulder.
“Oh, a lucky penny,” I reply and shoot her my winning smile.
“You are so old fashioned,” she says and smiles at me, her thin lips stretching over her too-large teeth. She links her arm in mine, turns to the group and loudly announces, “Hey guys, Alexandre just picked up a lucky penny, isn’t that
adorable
?”
The group agrees and we all start off down the sidewalk. A bar is decided upon and most of us head in that direction. Blythe’s hand burns on my arm as I resist the urge to pluck her fingers off and push her to the pavement. All I can think about are those red lips forming a perfect ‘O’ as the mystery woman took a long drag on the butt I have in my pocket. I need to find her, or at least a reasonable substitute tonight. I need to fuck a woman until she cries, and then fuck her some more.
