I did it. I struck her. As I looked down at her bruised face, she no longer resembled herself. Her complexion was marred and bloodied. I could feel the deep cuts reopening, and I noticed she was bleeding. I observed her crimson blood mingling with the murky water on the ground.
In a strange way, she looked beautiful like this.
"Blood suits you, Little flower," I murmured against her ear, fully aware that she was unconscious and wouldn't hear me. Carefully, I lifted myself off her and stood, taking in her vulnerable figure.
For just a moment, an unfamiliar feeling washed over me.
Was it regret? Concern? Those emotions seemed foolish. After years of taking lives and collecting trophies, I had never allowed myself to feel such weakness.
Such feelings belong to the frail, and I am anything but weak. I am strong and fearless, and that is undeniable. People trembled at my presence, hiding from me and pleading for mercy whenever they found themselves caught in my grasp. They were trapped, and I relished in the power I held over their emotions.
With a sigh of irritation, I crouched down, placing one hand beneath her back and the other on her legs, lifting her in a bridal carry. Her head rested against my chest.
"You're losing quite a bit of blood, Little flower." I chuckled, finding her battered form oddly endearing. "Let me take care of you." With that, I made my way back to her house, stepping out of the woods. My footfalls squelched on the wet ground as I finally reached the door.
I kicked it open, breaking the doorknob, and swiftly shut it behind me, my foot pushing forward as the door thudded against the frame.
Ascending the stairs to her bedroom, I was relieved to find the door ajar. It felt exhausting to kick it open again, knowing she would be annoyed at the broken doorknob, especially since she had limited funds to replace it.
Although I wanted her to feel the weight of her suffering, I didn't want to burden her financially. After all, I had struggled to find money too, but I was grateful for my involvement with the organization. It saved me from scrounging for spare change like some fool.
Gently, I laid her down on the soft mattress of her bed, my hands stained with her blood. Perhaps I had gone too far, but she looked lovely. And that didn't concern me. I scanned her room for the first aid kit, recalling how I had seen her tending to her wounds after our last encounter when I had marked her stomach.
I may appear merciless, but I had kept an eye on her through the window, ensuring she was still alive before I left to attend to my tasks.
"Where did she store her med kit?" I remained remarkably calm, conscious that her life was ebbing away from her due to blood loss. At last, I spotted the kit tucked beneath her desk, alongside her makeup and other feminine items. "Looks like the Dranchez family took good care of you," I remarked, indifferent to whether she could hear me.
Approaching the desk, I retrieved the med kit and returned to her. Perched on the edge of the bed, I began to gently remove her shirt, revealing her blue floral bra, and I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. So, blue it is today.
I opened the kit and then made my way to the bathroom to fill a basin with water. I had almost forgotten to do it, as her mere presence could so easily distract me. Inside the bathroom, I scanned for a towel, and fortune smiled upon me—I found one. With a sense of urgency, I grabbed it and headed back to her bedroom, settling beside her unconscious figure.
Her form was exquisite. Her curves resembled that of a goddess, and her small waist fit perfectly within my hands. My fingers glided effortlessly over her smooth olive skin.
"Stop..." I admonished myself for being so desperate and needy when it came to this woman. Carefully, I dipped the towel into the basin, ensuring it had just the right amount of moisture, and then gently wiped the blood from her face and body, tending to her wounds with caution.
As I worked, I felt a stirring desire building within me. This was frustrating; she was in such a dire state, and I felt responsible for her condition. I tried to banish those inappropriate thoughts and focused on my task instead, picking up a needle and thread. My eyes momentarily filled with pride when I noticed the mark signifying her as 'owned.'
As I began to stitch her deep cuts, I couldn't help but glance at her, alternating my gaze between her and the work at hand. "Don't leave me, Little Flower. Your life is in my hands, so please don't let go," I murmured softly. I stitched her skin with a practiced hand, skillfully closing the wounds. My experience as a killer meant that I had a certain familiarity with this process. Yes, I had taken lives at will, as directed by my leader, but I wasn't immune to suffering myself.
I had faced death numerous times but had always managed to survive by sewing up my own wounds, all self-taught. Many believe you can't do it without medical professionals, but I disagree. You won't know your limits until you push them. That's why I endeavor to learn and experience new things. My initial encounters with stitching were far from perfect; I made mistakes and bled heavily, yet I survived and managed to close the wound.
The process was brutal and chaotic, but I was still here, still capable of doing what I did best.
At last, I finished. Snipping the thread with scissors from the med kit, I felt a sense of satisfaction at my success. "You're all set now, Little Flower," I said softly, applying ointment to her face with careful hands while observing her closely. My gaze drifted down to her bra.
"Are you always this attractive, Little Flower? Or is it that I find you so captivating because you stand out from all the other women I've encountered?" I whispered, leaning my forehead against hers and slowly letting my hand wander toward her bra. "Did you know, Little Flower, that I've ended the lives of every woman I've wanted to kill? My choices aren't selective when it comes to my bloodlust. Many women have attempted to flirt with me just to stay alive. But you..." I paused, my breath blending with hers.
"You didn't flirt to survive. You fought back and tried to escape, even though it was futile. That, my Little Flower, makes you intriguing and unlike anyone else."
My thoughts lingered there as I gazed at her unconscious form. Part of me wanted to wake her, to have her hear my words, but for now, I let her rest.
Yet that didn't mean I would stop my intentions.
"Hey, when will you wake up? Don't you realize that your current state gives me the perfect opportunity to do anything I want?" I smirked with dark amusement as my hand finally found its way to her breast through her bra. I felt myself becoming increasingly aroused. Taking the scissors, I sliced through the middle of her bra without a second thought, easily exposing her delicate chest.
"Hmm..." I mused in appreciation, taking hold of one of her breasts. It fit perfectly in my hand, soft and supple, with dear pink nipples that tempted me to wake her and claim her right then.
"Your blue floral bra is quite unnecessary, Little Flower. Why even bother with it when I keep tearing your lingerie?" I chuckled softly.
"But don't worry; I won't destroy everything. I wouldn't want you walking around without lingerie, inviting unwanted attention from other men. You know how much you drive me wild, and for that, I'd ensure they get what they deserve for daring to look at you."
My hand began to knead her breast, while the other moved down to my pants. I unbuckled my belt with ease and then slid down my zipper, pulling my erection out from my boxers and starting to stroke it slowly in the same deliberate rhythm as I was massaging her soft breast. She would never know I was doing this while she was completely unconscious.
But I intended to tell her another time, when I returned to shatter her peace again. And, if she were to wake up right now, I wouldn't mind her watching me pleasuring myself while holding her breast.
"Oh god... Little flower, you belong to me. Fucking remember that and let it sink into your head," I groaned with a mix of dominance and intense feeling, my thumb rubbing her already firm nipple despite her lack of awareness, and increasing the speed of my ministrations on my cock, stroking it faster and deeper.
My thumb flicked with precise speed over her peak. I could feel my body trembling. The more the pleasure surged, the more I wanted to plunge my cock into her core and violate her deep sleep. But, I had to hold back.
I wanted her to witness me taking her. I wanted her to see me in this vulnerable state of absolute need for her, that she was the only one who could elicit this desperation from me, who made me even more unhinged than before. That's why I would simply masturbate now and remain patient.
"Hnng!" I ground my teeth, stifling my cries as the hand that was on her breast moved to the head of my cock and rubbed it faster, while my other hand continued stroking the length. I was terrifyingly close. My legs were shaking, and veins pulsed beneath my skin. I quickly positioned myself over her, straddling her delicate form with my legs as I kept pumping and stroking, watching her serene, sleeping face.
"Take it, Little flower. Take my release!" I cried out in ecstasy as I quickly moved closer to her face, throwing my head back as I finally hit the peak. My muscles visibly strained with every forceful spurt that shot from my cock, landing across her cheeks.
Breathing heavily, I collapsed beside her.
"You look beautiful covered in it, Little flower..." I said breathlessly, my eyes flashing with deep satisfaction.
I lay next to her for a short rest, admiring her delicate features. After a few minutes, I sat up from the bed and gave her a final look without saying a word, then moved toward the door. Just then, I heard her softly groan.
My head snapped back to the bed, seeing her eyes flutter open as she slowly adjusted to the light. I chuckled softly and gently closed the door, ensuring she wouldn't realize I had just left her.
Walking downstairs, I pulled my phone from my pocket and saw a message from the Leader. Again? For heaven's sake.
The Leader wanted me to hunt another person. I despised being ordered around like a dog, but I enjoyed the act of killing, so I accepted the Leader's task. Still, if I ever had the chance to slit his throat and remove his tongue, I would do it gladly.
But not now. Soon.
Already outside her house, I walked along the familiar street, heading toward the abandoned warehouse. The same location where he always summoned me for missions. I couldn't help but wonder what his face looked like. I was sure he was repulsive. Yes, the Leader was definitely ugly.
Arriving at the location, I surveyed the desolate ruins of the warehouse.
"Seriously, why does he always call me here?" I rolled my eyes in annoyance, then stepped inside the building and sighed. It was pitch black. This Leader really seemed to love dark places. A total goth.
"Hey, can you show yourself now?" I called out, putting my hands into my pockets. I was done masturbating near her face, and now I was here on another mission. Give me a break.
Just as I was about to yell again, I heard footsteps approaching, but they maintained a cautious distance.
The Leader was right behind me. I slowly turned around to face him, but I could only catch a brief glimpse of his form through the heavy darkness. I raised an eyebrow, clicking my tongue in impatience.
"Another mission?" I said flatly, eager to wrap up this conversation and get back to work. Naturally, he picked up on my demeanor; after all, the leader isn't oblivious. "No," he responded curtly, causing a flicker of confusion on my face before I regained my composure. "Then why did you summon me if there aren't any new missions?" I inquired, more as a statement than a question.
"This isn't about killing, L. I simply need you to observe at the club," he stated firmly, tossing something my way. The paper landed right in front of my boots. I bent down to pick it up and straightened back up. "What's this?" I asked, frowning as I began to read the information.
As I scanned the details, my expression turned icy. The Mississippi twins were recruiting other wealthy but naive individuals. I call them naive because they have no idea what they're getting into. They've enticed 40 successful professionals—that's outrageous. How intriguing are these two? I couldn't wait to meet them and test them out. A slight shiver of excitement ran through me.
"So, I'm just supposed to observe? What if I spot them? Should I eliminate them?" I smirked and tossed the paper back to him, sensing him pick it up with a sigh. "No. Don't eliminate them. We don't understand their true motives yet—what if it's a setup? For now, just keep an eye on them, figure out what they're up to and their vulnerabilities. That's what we really need," he instructed with authority, and I playfully saluted him.
"Aye, aye, Captain. I'll do as you say. After all, that's why I joined your organization."
"Because you were bored," he replied, prompting another smirk from me. "Correct." I turned without another word and left the dilapidated warehouse. "Goodbye, mysterious leader!" I laughed as I walked away, catching his last remark.
"A nickname for me? How sweet," he called after me, but I continued on my way. Sweet? Is he gay? I'll put that thought aside for now; I have a mission to tackle. I've already devised a plan to get into that club and keep an eye on the twins without raising any suspicions.
I decided I would pose as a bartender.
I heard they were looking for someone new after the last bartender turned out to be a rapist. What a twist! Now, a bunch of guys are vying for the position. It's a high-end club, after all. But I'm confident I'll stand out. I know my capabilities, and I have a knack for charming people. The interview will be a breeze—or, as I prefer to think of it, an audition.
I paused on the sidewalk, glancing around for a taxi. Finally, I spotted one and waved. The driver saw me and approached, slowing down to roll down the window, revealing an elderly man. "Hello, pops," I greeted him with a winning smile. He nodded back, offering a small smile of his own and gestured for me to get in. Is he mute, perhaps?
I shrugged and climbed into the backseat. I handed him the fare upfront, and he accepted it, placing it in the car's drawer. "Thank you," the old man finally spoke, his voice soft and gentle. At least he's not mute. I don't know sign language, anyway.
"I'd like to go to the Huntsman, pops!" I said, nodding at him as he glanced back at me through the rearview mirror. "Okay," he replied, firing up the engine and driving off toward my destination.
As the car travels, my mind continually returns to my Little Flower, wondering how she is faring at home after I left her alone. Is she grateful for the care I provided to her cuts and bruises? She should be; I saved her life. I didn't abandon her this time like I did before when I left a mark on her stomach. Taking a deep breath, I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand.
I still have a mission to complete.
Once this mission is over, I'll return to my Little Flower and break her spirit once more. If I take the bartending job, I can keep visiting her even with my shifts.
This situation is becoming quite intriguing.