Zsadist's First Dream
At first, he had felt like a predator. In his line of work, it was always better to be the one doing the charging rather than the retreating, but somehow he felt like being a predator in this place was wrong…until he realized he couldn't be a predator-he had no prey. He was simply an intruder in her once perfect world, occasionally a thief in the long hours of the night. True, he had never really stolen anything. The delicate chain that graced the cords of his neck had been disregarded on the terracotta floor, a pool of diamonds-the tears he was unable to shed-monsters like him were incapable of crying.
So what exactly did he steal? Little pieces of her, all the beauty Bella left behind…they way the candle sticks were arranged on the mantle above the stone fireplace, deliberately disordered; the beautifully cut crystal glass that sat on her vanity, exquisite enough for the finest wine but holding only water, a subtle smear marring the sparkling glass where her lips had last touched it; the fine white parchment crossed with the fountain pen-cap still off-her beautiful flowing script adorning the paper. He had sat carefully in the comfortable upholstery chair beside the table where her words rested, allowing his finger to barely touch the paper but withdrawing it quickly in fear that it would turn to dust. As he looked at her handwriting, he wondered what she wrote-wished for that instant that he could read until he snapped back to reality and realized how ridiculous his notion had been.
So what exactly did he steal? Little pieces of her, all the beauty Bella had left behind, the remnants that ensured his image of Bella would never fade no matter what the future held.
Zsadist paced the empty halls and rooms void of her presence. The place that had once been her sanctuary now only possessed the shadow of her being, a life that may or may not still be in existence. He knew so little about the intoxicating female, but her image, her scent, her beauty, her kindness to him…it all burned red hot in the frozen depths of his soul, a place within himself that he thought no one would ever be able to touch.
Though he didn't know her, the time he spent in her home gave him insight into the female she was. The farmhouse was airy and rustic, carrying the charms and graces of an obsolete world, yet the way in which it was furnished left no question that the blood of the aristocracy ran through her veins; but not the new and intolerable creatures that currently dominated the races upper class, a much older more substantial family that had no need to brag through obviously flashy-glitter gilded pieces. Tasteful items of unquestionable value and quality yet subtle in nature enhanced the clean cut, pure white simplicity of Bella's home. He often wondered if the things that she surrounded herself with in her home were of her choosing or those of outside influence such as a servant-though he saw no trace of doggen anywhere. What kind of female of worth from a glymera family lived in a secluded home, alone, with no servants or male protection?
Zsadist pondered the thought as he passed down the narrow corridor of the hallway. Perhaps she was simply strong willed-the head male of her family was obviously concerned for her welfare as he was in close contact with Tohr-though in Zsadist's roiling mind, he couldn't have been much of a male for letting such a valuable female fend for herself in a dangerous world undefended. If he had a daughter the likes of Bella…he had to clench his fists and take a series of deep breaths to keep from breaking something-it would do him little good to destroy something belonging to Bella, and he forced himself to remember that glymera and warriors such as he were entirely different subspecies and approached situations in different ways-the glymera waited and negotiated while warriors went in guns blazing blood flying. Needless to say, he wanted to give Bella's ghaurdian a good beat down. It my not bring anymore sense to the male, but it sure in the hell would make him feel fucking better. Meeting the head of her household in a dark alley would make his night, but he didn't want to kill the male…at least not yet. He knew his own tendencies, and it might be advantageous for everyone involved if his Brothers were in the vicinity to pull him off after a hit or two. Just a little blood might even suffice.
Zsadist paused briefly to compose himself. He would not contaminate her sanctuary with his aggression or hatred toward her family. He had no clue what her relationship with her family was like, and he could possibly make the situation worse, but this would be far from the first time he went and royally fucked everything up. Oddly though, she was alone just as he…what if she…felt like an outcast too? He allowed his eyes to open once again to soak in her bright, pure world. The mirror on the wall caught his attention as his reflection marred its simplistic beauty. How a perfect creature such as Bella could have looked into his eyes with anything except disgust-he could never understand.
He reached up and allowed his callused hand to caress the delicate platinum chain that embraced his neck. The twinkling diamonds stood in sharp contrast to the matte black that would forever define him as a blood slave-someone else's fuck toy. But oddly enough, the reminder of Bella's beauty and grace and ability to see past his outward appearance and inner scars that adorned his black shame made his reflection bearable even to him.
He may never see her again, and in the real world, he would never have been allowed to nor would he have wanted to possess her, but he felt as if this farmhouse, the place she had loved and called home were his place too. Deep inside, Zsadist hoped he would find Bella, but he feared…he couldn't even think those words. He was an eternal realist…He knew her family…any family in the aristocracy…with their countless estates and compounds, manor houses, and so called properties would have no need or want to keep a simple farmhouse acquired a few years before. But he…he would buy it when they sold, and the farmhouse that had been her home and felt like a place where he actually belonged, it would become his and hers forever. He would own every last memory, every last moment of happiness…
He found himself standing in the doorway of her bedroom. He could not remember how he got there or if it was his intended destination, but every night he visited her home, Zsadist always found himself if the center of her sanctuary-the place where she rested in the day and dreamed of the beautiful life her future no doubt had in store for her before she was stolen from her perfect world. He found himself in this place night after night were he would sit beside her bed back against the wall until the last minutes before dawn just wondering what she thought of, lying in her bed before sweet sleep closed her eyes. He hadn't slept since she was ripped from the world.
Zsadist approached her bed…pure white as she had been…untouched by the evils of the world that he faced and had become. He knelt by her bed and reached out, allowing his had to brush against her comforter. He retracted it quickly in fear that his evil might stain the white surface. Zsadist closed his eyes and assumed his usual position with his back against the wall to pass the time until only moments were left until day was upon him before he dematerialized back to the mansion where he would spend his day seething in anger, imagining how sweet vengeance would taste.
Zsadist drew his knees up, unlacing his shit-kickers, wrenching them off until they clunked heavily against the floor. He let his feet rest flat against the hardwood, soaking in the cold of the wood even through the thick black cotton of his socks. He propped his elbows on his taut thighs and rested his head in his hands. Zsadist realized something…he was not invincible…he was tired. The stress of Bella's abduction, the guilt he felt for not having been there to protect her, his seething anger for the Fuck that had stolen the one beautiful and entirely good thing from his life, and his relentless search for her spurred on by his realization that time was of the essence if they were to find her alive all weighed heavily upon him. If he had a soul, it would be close to broken. Thank God he had lost that hindrance long ago.
Zsadist jumped to his feet. Moving around was the only way to keep from giving into his weakness. There would be plenty of time for sleep in the Fade if he wanted to make the assumption that was where he was headed when his sorry ass was wiped from temporal existence. He was pushed into action, without a thought or even a chance to stop his own actions. It was as if his will staged a coup d'état over his own conscious self, and he was in her bed.
He was surrounded in bright white warmth, and heavenly softness encompassed his hard, scarred body. He was a selfish prick to allow himself to taint her purity with his evil for one more moment, but he couldn't will himself to move. Zsadist had not slept in a bed for… many years, but his wildest dreams could not imagine anything as beautiful as being caressed by the soft feather nest that surrounded him. The only thing that could have made the experience better…Zsadist cursed himself for even allowing his mind to form the picture of Bella beside him…what kind of depraved bastard would wish to taint something as angelically perfect as Bella? Well, he should have expected that of himself. What was stopping him from living up to being the fucking bastard that everyone else thought he was now? He might as well enjoy it.
Zsadist turned to his side, shoving one of his arms under a pillow and burying his face in the white satin brushed cotton that contained the wealth of feathers. It still smelled of her…the sweet scent of her flesh that distinctly belonged to her. He breathed deeply wondering how long her scent would grace her pillow and how long it would take him to forget.
The hallway seemed different this time. Although it exuded the purity of Bella as before, the once cold corridor radiated warmth and the beauty of life. Flickering candles in wall sconces illuminated his path as they danced against the walls. A sense of peace he had never known washed over him. He felt like he was floating-in this place but above it, present but not-it was ethereal.
Zsadist heard a soft melody of a song from the old language float in the air, the feminine voice beckoninghim closer to the angelic source. It was soothing, beautiful though not perfect…as close to as what he imagined a cradle song would have sounded like…perhaps that's what it was…not that he had ever heard one. He passed through the hallway into the candlelit ambience until he discovered the source of the song. His shadow hovered at the kitchen entrance unseen.
She was a vision-a bright angel that needed no candlelight to illuminate her. Though her back was turned to him, her identity was of no question. Her intoxicating scent, the regal way she held her body with ease, the way the waves of deep mahogany swept across the small of her back against the soft light blue material that graced her body-everything about her screamed Bella.
He wanted nothing more than to go to her, pull her to him, hear her voice speak his name-just the sound of his name passing her lips made him feel alive. Fuck his social issues-he wanted to feel her hands upon him-and he regretted nothing more in his life than pushing the lovely female away. If he had just grown a pair and handled his business like a well bred male, maybe he could have saved Bella. But he stopped himself-this was just a dream.
Zsadist made himself content with the small piece of heaven he was gifted. He crossed his arms against his chest, leaning his massive shoulder against the antique trim work of the door and observed. His senses were flooded with multitudes of beautiful sights, sounds, and smells as he watched the female go about her task. If this was what the Fade was like, he prayed the Virgin would come and carry him away, what was left of his sorry-ass soul.
Bella worked methodically at the sink, selecting green apples from the bushel basket that rested on the countertop, rinsing them under the water that streamed from the faucet, placing them gently to dry on the white cloth which rested on the other side of the counter. Zsadist watched intently as she made the woman's work so simply sublime while continuing to hum her unknown air.
Zsadist took in a quick breath as he choked back…something. The female jerked her head to the side almost glancing over her shoulder, but not turning around. Females were skittish creatures-he couldn't even begin to guess what had startled her. Then he snapped to reality-had she heard him…could she possibly sense his presence? No…this was just…
Bella continued washing the light green skin of the tart fruit, inspecting them for blemish before placing them on the cotton where they dried to a glossy, almost unnatural sheen. As he watched attentively, he caught her continuing to throw hesitant glances over her shoulder in his general direction. He wondered if she could simply sense his presence. She was a fidgety female, but stunning in her self conscious behavior. Every so often, she would pause at her work and push the stray locks of hair that fell into her eyes behind her ear. Every movement she made made her not less perfect but more real to Zsadist and that much more endearing.
Bella's glances over her shoulder became extended, and a shy smile spread across her perfect lips. Every time she glanced, he memorized her profile-the feminine shape of her face, the cut of her cheekbone, the planes of her delicate neck where he could see her life's beat pulsing-alive. She gently bit her lower lip and closed her eyes as if she knew she was being analyzed, but she lingered, not turning away as if she were prolonging the magic for him.
And what Fucking world did he think he lived in! He had never been one to allow fantasy to blur into his cold hard reality. Truthfully-he was comfortable with the pain; it was constant and unchanging…predictable. He knew that any moment, some acceptable male of worth would materialize at Bella's side or even better walk right through his shadow to show him just how fucking insignificant he was even in this dreamscape.
Bella grabbed another apple, rinsed it with care, and gently wiped it dry with the translucent layer of her skirt. This time it was the female's turn to take a deep breath. She turned, keeping her eyes to the ground, and he straightened quickly, feeling the urge to retreat so the beautiful spell would not be broken.
She approached the doorway, her gait so delicate that she appeared to be floating just above the terracotta floor. She paused just within an arms length from him and lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, the shy smile still barely crossing her lips.
"Welcome Warrior," she spoke just above a whisper, barely audible even to his keen senses.
Bella lifted the large green apple, cupped in both hands, offering the gift to him. It was only at this point that Zsadist allowed himself to believe that he was really a part of the dream, and what a beautiful hallucination it was.
Zsadist reached down, taking the apple from her as his hand unintentionally brushed her fingertips. Her hands were warm, her flesh soft, and she felt as real to Zsadist as any of the pain he had felt in his entire lifetime. Her life radiated from her being and quenched even his darkness.
"Bella…" Zsadist allowed her name to slip past his lips, but he lost the words that were supposed to follow.
She still looked up at him, no disgust passing over her sparkling sapphire eyes though he knew not how she could bare to look at him.
Here smile deepened momentarily as if something privately sublime had crossed her mind. She reached up and gently brushed her hand across the diamonds that graced his neck. Knowing himself, Zsadist consciously prepared not to flinch from Bella's touch, but his natural instinct of aversion never kicked in. In fact, her soft fingertips left a pleasant tingling sensation on his skin.
"You remember me…" Bella whispered as she retracted her pale hand and looked again to the ground as if she, the female of worth, felt unworthy.
For the first time, Zsadist reached out tenderly to a female, but not just any female…the female he wished to possess. He touched her chin gently as he stepped forward to close the distance between them, lifting her head to an incline to again meet his eyes. He reached out again, brushing a stray lock out of her eyes and wishing for more.
"I will never forget you…" How could he? "I will look for you…"
"Until the last snow…promise…" Bella cut the warrior off with a pleading request as sadness crossed the eyes that had just twinkled with joy and hope. Everything about her spoke now of pain and desperation.
"I Promise…"
Zsadist woke with a sharp jerk and found himself sitting in the center of Bella's bed, breathing heavily, heart pounding, body covered with a sheen of cold sweat.
Had he slept?
He jerked his head quickly to the side to view the silver scrollwork clock that guarded Bella's bedside table. It had only been four minutes since he had last looked, but it had seemed like a lifetime.
Either he had just become the new master of power-napping, or he was hallucinating. He wouldn't trade shit for V's curse…and what was he doing making promises to a shade that came to him in a delusion? He was a fucking piece of work, but still it seemed….
It was nothing…just a fucking dream. Yes, it was beautiful and hopeful. Sublime and ethereal…a dream, not a nightmare…
Zsadist bowed his head, closed his eyes, and ran his hands over the stubble of hair that needed to be buzzed again.
"Shit man, you're really letting yourself go." Zsadist cursed himself sarcastically, trying to anchor himself back to reality.
He'd never had a dream…but it was just that, a dream-hope that had no foundation in reality. He didn't dream-hope could only be lost if one offered dreams to be shattered by life.
He had never been creative in anything but the game of pain, but suddenly he was becoming a fucking complicated creature. He was a sadomasochistic vampire with a newly developed imagination. What imaginative torment would the universe come up with next?
After Zsadist composed himself to the point of at least possessing the strategic skills to survive and the will power not to kill innocent civilians, a state which was standard operating procedure for him, Zsadist stood on the porch of Bella's farmhouse and looked through the window into the cold, dark kitchen. He had to only close his eyes, and he could "see" the inviting warmth the room had the potential to possess and the female that should be gracing the kitchen with her warmth. When he opened his eyes, the image of the home that would never be his disappeared.
He stepped out into the yard, the tall blades of frozen grass not finding any mercy under the soles of his shit-kickers. The snow that had barely danced in the sky when he arrived now intensified its assault in the last moments before dawn would light the midnight sky.
Zsadist closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, asking for the snowiest season the heavens could stand. Perhaps one simple prayer could be answered…just one…he would be content to do the rest himself.
The mansion was silent and dimly lit upon his return. A confrontation with Wrath or Phury, or even the Cop, all who seemed to pity his sorry ass of late and feel the need to speak to him would not be welcome in his current state…not that they ever were, but tonight he was likely to snap at even the slightest provocation.
At the moment, his body seemed to be focused only on physiological needs. Sleep-check-five minutes, if you called it that. Food-he cursed his weakness, but then he thought of the fights in the nights to come, the black blood that was going to spill at his hand, and how he would serve no one's purpose by starving himself. To the kitchen. He knew before he entered that the room was occupied, but his instinctual need for food to be strong for Bella won over his need for aversion. Perhaps if he was quiet enough, he would go unnoticed.
He stood in the doorway as silent as a shadow and marveled at the scene before him, his brother Rhage doting on his new, or nearly new, shellan. She sat on the countertop, legs wrapped around her mate, her tiny feet tucked behind his knees. The nature of mated males had always been something of a mystery to him…having distanced himself from living, breathing society, he had never seen the tender interactions between a male and his mate, but as he looked on Rhage and Mary, he saw peace in their bond. The way Rhage's eyes saw nothing beyond her and how Mary's entire world revolved around nothing more than her warrior. Rhage's palms were planted firmly on either side of Mary, leaning in close enough to kiss her, but their lips made no contact. The female reached up, tucking a stray golden strand behind Rhage's ear, the radiance in her face illuminating the world around him.
Rhage was cursed just as he. A monster consumed Rhage, but Mary not only tamed his beast, she brought calm to his world. Could he ever have that? He cursed himself for allowing such a flipping fantasy to cross his mind…his chance for happiness died with his soul more than a century ago…it was gone, wasn't it? And who was he kidding? He wasn't consumed by a monster, he was the monster…scarred inside and out.
Zsadist cleared his throat before entering the kitchen to make his presence known. Rhage snapped to attention at the unexpected intrusion, and Zsadist thought to himself that a bonded male needed to be more alert to protect his mate. He was no good to her if he was dead.
Rhage didn't disengage himself from Mary's embrace although his attention turned entirely to Zsadist. Though he and Rhage were tight, he could still feel the sense of protection radiating from the mated male's body, though Mary was no doubt unaware of the change in Rhage as he still held her with a sense of ease. Fuck…Zsadist wasn't even mated to Bella, and he was more uptight about her than Rhage was about the female he was bonded to. He was so fucked by the shit meter, he didn't even know how to classify the state of the sorry creature he was.
"Where have you been my Brother?" Rhage questioned as Zsadist approached the counter and Rhage's blast of protection eased.
"Just out," Zsadist replied quietly, making eye contact with the other warrior, knowing that he would see through the lie. Not like he didn't already know.
Zsadist sorted through the glass bowl of apples selecting the two that were most appealing to him. He kept his eyes on the fruit and away from Rhage and Mary though he still felt Rhage's concerned gaze upon him.
"It's almost dawn," Rhage informed.
"No shit."
It sounded like Zsadist spat venom, but his black eyes meet the aqua of his fellow warrior's, and something rare and unspoken passed between them. Zsadist broke eye contact and left the mated pair for the solitude of his chamber, tart fruit in hand. He hadn't made it to the landing of the grand stair before he heard Rhage loping behind him to catch up.
"Z…brother…wait up…" Rhage's big hand caught his bicep…contact he wasn't accoustomed to, and he turned to face his brother, hoping it was for a good reason. Surprising even to himself, Zsadist didn't snap.
"Well…Tohr told me today…you know he had been keeping close contact with the female's family…"
Her name is Bella. As if by calling her "the female" removed all emotion from the situation for Rhage. That was all too easy. "Spit it Rhage."
"Well, I understand the reasoning. It has been more than several weeks and nothing. The female's family planned her memorial…funeral…They can't have a Fade ceremony under the circumstances of course…but they are officially in mourning."
Rhage who had been avoiding eye contact meet the freezing stare of his seemingly soulless brother. If possible, his eyes dropped to arctic chill and dulled one depth further, if not in anger, in an undefined emotion Rhage had never seen nor cared to ever see again. Letting his brother go, Zsadist turned from Rhage, his gait unaltered as he mounted the stairs.
"You can't blame them. They just need closure. They need to heal…Maybe we all need that closure…a time of healing…" Rhage's words were unprojected, almost under his breath, perhaps not even for Zsadist to hear, but he did. EVERY. LAST. FUCKING. WORD…CLOSURE? He was seething.
Zsadist made it to his chamber without demolishing anything, but the extended moments of inaction had given him the fucking excellent opportunity to let the myriad of emotions gnaw on his roiling gut. As soon as his door slammed locked at his will, the air froze around him, crackling with his anger. A thousand horrible and gruesome images sated his soul, the scenarios in which he massacred the paterfamilias of Bella's family…the egotistical inflated dick who thought it would be easier for his refined sensitivities to cut and run disguised in the form of "official mourning" and "finding closure". Sounded like a bunch of bull shit.
This very event that hit so close to home for him reminded Zsadist of the exact reason he saw their world as a better place without the glymera. Jackasses from a long line of tiny-dicked egomaniacal bastards who subjugated everyone around them, claimed only the best for their self-entitled lives but were unable to exert any effort much less sweat and blood to protect all they claimed. What was the point of possessing something pure and perfect and beautiful if you weren't willing to die for it?
And he was willing to die for her…for Bella.
And if he ever met the head of her fucking family…he hoped that those who came before him could recognize his beaten, bloody corpse because he planned to leave no piece of his aristocratic vestige to the male for his journey to the Fade.
Without warning, gravity took over, and Zsadist's knees cracked as they made contact with the floor, or was that the cold marble that cracked under the force of the impact? It mattered little. Zsadist released the apples which tumbled to the floor landing just a foot in front of him. He clamped his eyes shut as he drove his clenched fists into the floor under him, He did not pull back after impact when the first tremors of pain radiated through his hand and up his arms. Instead Zsadist ground his knuckles against the frozen marble as he felt skin split and bone crunch. The pain…it was beautiful…but this time it didn't mask what was tearing from the inside of him clawing to be released…
Pulling his fists back, Zsadist rested his hands on his taut thighs, viewing the bloody mess he had made of himself. At least it matched what felt like on the inside.
As if a force beyond himself took control, unbidden words in the form of song passed his lips…a song of mourning in the old language…closure…
Zsadist fought himself tooth and nail. Was he no better than the bitches sitting in their ivory towers who now abandoned the helpless female? The rest of the fucking world could go to hell in a hand basket, but he had given up his soul more times than he could count, but this…this was different.
Now everyone thought she was fucking dead just like him, but he possessed something they didn't…hope.
The song of mourning was replaced by words he didn't know he possessed…words that fit the melody Bella sang in his dream. He had never been one who believed much in signs…but…
After a few moments of reflective silence had passed, Zsadist checked in again with the conscious world. He was set on a concrete course he would not again deviate from. He had a date with destiny, knew first dates were often a bust, but he was more than male enough to take it like a warrior. Zsadist rubbed a rough palm beneath his eyes, wiping away the undefined wetness leaving in its place smears of his own blood that pooled in his palms from the massacre of his knuckles.
Zsadist impulsively reached for one of the granny smith apples waiting patiently on the floor before him. Biting through the thin skin and tearing away the tart flesh, he contemplated the cruel ways of their world and wondered who exactly enjoyed fucking with the warrior-sized chess pieces. As the sweet and tart flavors melded in his mouth, he thought of how often others said life was bittersweet. Well, his had been a shit storm of cruel and bitter….he had experienced more than his fair share…would there ever be any sweet?
What was he turning into? A Fucking Philosopher?
Zsadist took one last bite of the apple, recapturing a sweet moment of the long past dream. He had never experienced the beauty of the sun, but he couldn't imagine it could hold more warmth for his frozen soul than Bella's gaze.
Zsadist stood, renewed in his quest. Bella was beautiful, kind, gentle…a female of the highest worth with breeding any bloodline would covet. What attracted her to the chainsaw massacre that was his body and soul, he would never know. He could never be the fairytale prince, the valiant knight on the white charger she deserved, but maybe, just maybe he was exactly what she needed. She needed a warrior to rescue her…and he was just that, more than that…a Brother of the highest rank and order of their race. She didn't need a namby pamby prince who couldn't tarnish his white cloak by breaking a few morals or rules of chivalry much less a few limbs or skulls. And he doubted that any so called Prince Charming had such a wealth of knowledge on tactical maneuvers, explosives, hand to hand weaponry, or inherent lust for blood that he did. And God help the fucking lesser if his perfect female was dead. Hell…no, the Omega hath no fury like a brother…Zsadist…scorned. He would unleash a rain of blood and fire that their world had yet to see, and he had a feeling no one involved in this one would be able to drag themselves away even half alive. Vengeance would be his, Bella would be avenged, and someone was going to bleed even if it was the last thing he ever did. No…he felt there was no happily ever after in his story…he wasn't Prince Charming, never claimed to be…but he was the brutal black souled monster that she needed. Fuck, it looked like being a cold hearted, soulless bastard was going to come in handy after all! Zsadist knew, whether Bella was alive or dead, he was the best chance she had.
And who gave a flying fuck if no one rooted for the monster?
Bella's body had become so accustomed to the cold that shivering was its new natural pass time… Fatigue had long ago set up shop in her muscles, tendons, wrists, and shoulders as they bore the weight of her body, stretched taut above her head. Sleep had rescued her momentarily, and the sweetest of dreams had passed through her tortured soul…no doubt a small blessing from the Virgin.
He had promised…
Bella cursed herself for clinging to a dream. Everyone had forgotten her…it was best if she forgot herself too.
Despite her trembling body and fatigue, Bella's voice escaped her mouth in song. She had no beauty in her singing voice, but none was needed for the purpose of the words that passed her lips. Her Mahmen sang the old language lullaby to her when she was frightened as a child. It was impractical to sing a cradle song when death was so near…a song of mourning would be more logical, but she continued anyway.
Shit…this was where the madness set in.