Dark Creations: Hell on Earth (Part 5) (12 page)

“That will do.  Now lay down on the bed,” he ordered.

“Would you like me to sit first, or would you like me to crawl on all fours, like last time?” she asked.

“Sit
, then lay back.”

She sat down without delay and leaned back, flat against the mattress.  He began undressing while she lay there, undoubtedly counting the seconds before he would grace her with his body.

“Feel free to touch yourself while you wait for me.  I know you must be excited.  It must be hard to wait,” he told her as he wrestled with his shoelaces.

He could only imagine the anticipatory stirrings she was feeling.  Ordinarily, he would not allow her to fondle her own body, unless it was for his entertainment, but could see how much she wanted him.  He’d even seen a single teardrop slide down her cheek when she
’d realized he was going to bed her.  Her emotional enthusiasm was proof that he’d made the right decision to preserve her sentiments.  And permitting her to touch herself demonstrated his benevolence.

With every second that passed that he was not inside her, he cared less and less about his benevolence and more and more about release.  He
finally stopped wasting precious time that would have been better spent molesting her and gave up on a stubborn knot in his shoelaces. He quickly slipped them off, still tied, and then yanked his pants and underwear down.  Naked from the waist down, he glanced back at Amber and saw that she’d chosen to not touch herself.  Now that was appreciation!  That was true thankfulness to be with him.  She did not want to sully the honor of being with him. 

He unbuttoned his navy dress shirt and
shrugged out of it. 

“Open your legs,” he told her.

Amber complied and he saw another tear drop from her eye and fall to the bed, though his attention quickly returned to the soft curls between her thighs. 

Desire coiled tightly between his legs and he felt as though he would explode. 
He crawled onto the bed and atop her and plunged his manhood deep inside her.  She sucked in a breath sharply and he was lost, carried on a wave of euphoria.

***

Acid had risen bitterly in the back of Amber’s throat at the sight of Lord Terzini.  He was a putrid little man.  With a thick mop of hair so black it overwhelmed his ashen complexion, beady eyes the color of coal and thin, colorless lips, Terzini was less attractive than most human beings she’d seen.  And he had an insatiable libido. 

She’d arrived knowing fully that he could not be in a room with her for more than five minutes before he demanded sex of her.  Each time she had seen him and he’d reacted to her in that manner, she had wanted to vomit. 
This time had been no different. 

From the moment she’d walked in and
saw him sitting, swallowed by the enormous, ostentatious cigar-hued couch, she’d sensed his hunger for her, as if he were a rangy predator, and she his prey.  He’d scoured her body with his eyes before, during and after she’d told him of Taft.  Though she’d been lying about the town being completely overtaken, he hadn’t noticed.  He’d been too busy ogling her. 

He
had objectified her as though she were not a living, breathing being. He had created her, she swore, for the sole purpose of having intercourse with him.  Initially, she’d not thought him depraved enough to do such a thing, especially since she’d been created with emotions.  To create a woman with feelings with the intent of systematically raping her would have been crueler than she’d believed even him capable.  None of his other partnering creations had had sentiment, though, only her.  But his cruelty knew no bounds.  She was aware of that now.  And when he’d asked her to remove her work shirt, then her tank top, right in the sitting area of the master suite where anyone could walk in, asked her with the same offhandedness he would have asked another for a tissue, it confirmed her every suspicion.  He was a vile, malevolent man.  And because she was his creation, she’d had no choice but to do as he’d said.  To refuse him would have resulted in her death, a guarantee he’d reminded her of time and time again during their sessions. 

Of late, Amber had considered death preferable to intercourse with her maker.  After her mission in
Taft, however, death was no longer her preferred out.  She did not want to die, not with Kyle and his sisters depending on her.  They needed her.  They were depending on her for their survival.  Their lives were a responsibility she took very personally.  She actually wanted them to live, as well, wanted to get to know them, to spend time with them; especially Kyle.

Thoughts of Kyle were dangerous
.  They inspired hope, and hope could not lead to anything but pain for a creation such as her.  Still, she refused to abandon it, refused to succumb to hopelessness and wish for her own death again, though she’d felt a part of her die when Lord Terzini had cupped her bare breast in his hand.  He was a monster, a cruel, lustful monster.

He’d ordered her to strip down in front of him then scrutinized her lasciviously b
efore he’d demanded that she lie in wait for him.  He’d even had the audacity to invite her to begin pleasuring herself while she’d waited, as though she couldn’t contain her excitement for him to the point where anticipatory masturbation had become necessary!  As if that hadn’t been bad enough, the worst had been yet to come.

When he’d begun thrusting himself into her, she’d contemplated an act of insubordination then and there, anything to end the suffering, even if it meant ending her life.
  Death had seemed better in that moment.  But she’d forced herself to consider Kyle.  She’d pictured his face, his eyes particularly.  They were a kaleidoscope of colors, each natural and complimentary.  She had not acted out.  She’d bit back tears, swallowed down the bitterness she’d felt inside and had allowed him to continue.

Tears had escaped her eyes before and during their coitus.  He’d been unfazed by them, even seemed encouraged by them. 
To him, he was a stallion, a legend in his own mind, conquering and pillaging a lesser being.  To her, he was a horny worm.

When finally
he’d reached completion, she thought her nightmare had ended temporarily.  She’d been wrong, of course.  He’d had more humiliation in store for her.  He’d sat up and said, “Now get out,” then ripped the bedding that had covered her. 

She’d felt her cheeks burn, humiliation and anger melding as one and quickly pulled her clothes
on then her boots.  Before she’d left, she’d looked over her shoulder.  Lord Terzini had lay still, breathing through his mouth.  He’d managed to doze almost immediately after she’d crept from the bed.  While she’d felt dirty, used and like refuse, he’d slept the sleep of the just. 

Now, standing just beyond the doorway to his private chamber, h
er fingertips tingled, aching to pull her gun from her holster and shoot him dead in his lavish bedroom.  She knew she could kill him, and probably kill all of the guards on his property.  But not before at least one of them radioed to another member.  News of her act would spread quickly and her fellow members would still blindly follow the madman they’d pledged their undying loyalty to, their creator.  They would hunt her.  She would be fine, could likely elude them for the rest of her existence, but she no longer thought for just herself.  She was responsible for Kyle and his sisters, too.  So she turned from her sleeping attacker and resisted the urge that beckoned her, tempted her with indescribable freedom and vengeance she so desperately craved.

Turning her back on an opportunity as inviting as avenging every debauched act Terzini had ever committed against her had been a
considerable challenge.  Combined with what she had just been through, Amber felt overwhelmed.  As she walked from his suite, her entire body trembled.  Her legs felt unsteady and she wondered whether they’d carry her to the front door.  Her eyes burned and tears threatened again.  But she doubted she would be able to curb them as she had earlier.  She did not want the others to see her tears, her emotion.  The potent combination of anger, shame, sadness and frustration would be impossible to mask.  She wanted to run past them all, to flee from her enslaver’s lair straight to Kyle.  With him, she had a purpose, a true purpose.  She was his protector.  She could help him.  But she knew she could neither run to him nor run past the guards crying.  She needed to maintain the same quiet confidence she always exuded, the same sureness and strength she used to command her subordinates.  So she pushed every ounce of hurt, disgrace and rage she was feeling down, deep into the infinite chasm of hate she reserved for just him.  Someday, he would know of her true feelings for him.  But that day was not today.

Chapter 10

Gabriel
had felt as though he’d just fallen asleep when Jack had come into the barn and shook him.  He’d opened his eyes reluctantly only to find that darkness had still dominated and shadows stretched their sooty fingers, clawing every inch of the barn he’d slept in.  It had framed Jack’s stern features, his buzzed haircut and stony eyes, making his expression all the more serious.

“Time to go,” was all Jack had said
in a tone that had matched his somber face before he’d disappeared into the predawn gloom.

Gabriel had rolled over onto
his side.  Every part of his body had complained, especially his lower back.  He had never slept on hay before, and never would again if he could help it.  Melissa had slept on her side next to him.  He’d watched her for several moments before he’d woken her. 

Now, as he bumped along in the back
seat of a Jeep Wrangler, he kept his eyes closed and pictured his sleeping wife-to-be.  Her golden-brown hair had become more golden than brown and would have easily been camouflaged by the hay with its light and dark streaks.  Her eyes had been closed, their brilliant green veiled by dark lashes.  They, like the rest of her features, had been a mask of peace, despite the pair of spiders that had nestled themselves just feet from her face.  He had been careful to shoo them away before he had awakened her.  The last thing he’d wanted was for her to open her eyes and see them first.  That would not have been a pleasant way for her to begin her day, or anyone else within earshot of her. 

He tried to focus on Melissa as he felt the Jeep come to a stop, her kindness, her compassion, her loveliness, but it was difficult.  Especially since he
hoped they were embarking on a wild goose chase. 

“We’re here, Gabriel,” Jack called from the front seat.

Gabriel opened his eyes and realized they were not, in fact, in a town at all.  They had parked alongside another older model Jeep Wrangler in a wooded, hilly area. 

“Where the hell are we?” Gabriel asked.  “I thought we were headed to a town.”

“We’re in the Sawtooth Mountains.  Actually, they’re more foothills than mountains, but you get the point.”

Gabriel nodded.  The thought of mountains conjured im
ages of the Colorado Rockies, tall snowcapped peaks towering majestically over deep canyons.  The Sawtooth Mountains, as Jack had referred to them, were a clustering of low rocky ridges dotted with lots of trees with spiny needles.  Jack opened the driver’s side door and stepped out to meet another man.  Gabriel followed suit and stepped down on pebbly terrain.  The distinct sound of moving water, the gentle hiss and rustle of it lapping against land, against rock, more accurately, confused him.

“Are we near water?’ Gabriel asked.

“Lake Wellington,” Jack answered.

“I don’
t understand.  Why are we,” Gabriel began but was interrupted by another man.

“It helps to throw off the scent a bit,
our
scent,” he said.  “I’m Joe, remember?”

“Hey Joe,” Gabriel said and extended his hand. 

Joe clasped it and gave it a firm shake. He looked directly into his eyes.  “We met yesterday.  I wasn’t sure if you remembered.  You and your friends met a lot of people.”

Gabriel had remembered his appearance more than his name.  J
oe had been among the few men who had not looked disheveled and out of shape.  As tall as Gabriel and with hawk-like features, Joe wore a military haircut cut close to his scalp and a generous sprinkling of gray touched his temples.  His posture was unimpeachable, his look rigid, but something in his alert eyes resounded of truth. 

“
What do you mean,
throw off our scent
?” Gabriel asked. 

For reasons he could not explain, a part of him instinctively dreaded Joe’s answer
, despite not having heard an answer yet.  Perhaps it was an innate reflex that warned, sweeping and crashing through him like a giant wave. 

“What I’m gonna tell you, well, it’s not easy for me to say
and it’s not bullshit.  I wouldn’t believe someone if they told me what I’m about say to you.  But it’s true, all of it.”

The
flinty look in his eye, the resolute set of his jaw, everything about Joe screamed of candor, of earnestness.

“Joe was a Navy S
EAL when he served.  He’s seen a lot of shit.  He’s not crazy and he’s not a liar,” Jack commented to preface what Gabriel assumed would be a complicated and overwhelming recollection from Joe.  “I’ll let him do the rest of the talking,” Jack continued.  “I just felt like I needed to vouch for him is all.”