Waukegan, Illinois

Hot rage burned through Michael's veins like molten lava while he hiked through the dense foliage surrounding the Helms' estate. He was gripping his knife so tightly in his fist that his fingers were now starting to tingle from lack of blood flow. However, the chase was almost over. His quarry was now in sight and successfully trapped within a thicket of trees. The Black Labrador's nose twitched as it caught his scent, and he could practically taste the animal's fear as it turned its large head to look at him.

Michael stealthily approached the canine, raising his blade, which gleamed brightly in the midmorning light. The dog snarled and then lunged at him. He effortlessly caught the dog by the throat with one hand and slammed his weapon into its back with the other. The animal instantly went limp in his hand; however, it wasn't nearly enough to appease his rage. He wrenched his knife free and repeatedly stabbed the canine's dead body until all he was left holding was its head, which he tossed unceremoniously to the ground.

As Michael stood there staring down at the carnage by his feet, a familiar presence approached him from behind. The ease in which she had found him proved their bond's strength. Still, in light of everything that had happened, he was far from impressed with her new-found tracking abilities. "You shouldn't be out here," he harshly reprimanded, without turning. "You should be with Dawn."

"Dawn's getting ready for her parents' arrival," Karen evenly informed him, "and I wanted to make sure that you were all right." She walked to his side and looked at him, ignoring the dog for the time being. "Are you all right?"

"I'm angry," he replied.

"Yes, I can see that," she said, averting her eyes to the ground and studying his handiwork. "Maybe inviting Dawn's parents here wasn't such a good idea after all..."

"She needs them here, Karen," insisted Michael. "I am not her parent, nor is that my role to fill. I am her protector, her guardian."

"And her friend," the teenager added, her dark orbs once again finding his. "That's why you're so angry, Michael. If that had been Dawn—"

The killer's jaw twitched with rage. "That will never be Dawn," he growled. "I will make sure of it."

"Only you?" Karen quietly asked, her gaze returning to the ground in front of them.

Michael suddenly blinked as though seeing his lover for the first time. She was acting too calm—too placid—and the way she kept staring down at the carnage at their feet, not with disgust but with morbid fascination...he could practically see the wheels in her head turning. "And possibly Dawn's father," he finally answered. When she opened her mouth to protest he said, "Look, Karen, you once told me that you don't want to become a killer. If that still holds true, then you need to stay out of this."

"I know," she simply responded.

She understood, but would she heed his advice? At this point it was impossible to tell. Her blank facial expression gave nothing away.

Realizing there was nothing more he could say or do to deter the teenager from getting involved, Michael pocketed his knife and then reached for her hand. "Come, sweetness," he encouraged. "The Johnsons will be here soon, and I should probably clean up before I meet them."

Karen raised her eyes and nodded. "Yes, of course."

Without ceremony, the killer transported him and his lover directly into their quarters. She stood in the center of the room, watching him as he strode to their bureau. He slid the bottom drawer open to view the contents inside. He gradually sifted through the stacks of men's clothing, finally pulling out a pair black jeans and a plain black sweatshirt. Now, this was definitely something novel for him. Although he wasn't thrilled about wearing something other than his mechanic's uniform, it was imperative for him to make a good first impression on Dawn's parents in order to retain their trust.

Michael turned back towards Karen. "I'm going to take my shower now," he told her.

She nodded, letting him go.

Once in the bathroom, the killer kicked off his boots. However, he left his coveralls on as he stepped into the stall. Within minutes hot water was cascading over him, rinsing his garment clean of the blood and gore that had splattered on it while mutilating the Labrador's body.

At the time he had considered taking Karen with him on his spontaneous hunting trip, but now he was glad he had left her behind. Instead of slaking her desire for blood, he was certain it only would have made it worse. Even though there wasn't anything that could be done to stop her from killing her father's associate, he was determined not to encourage it either—yet another testament of his love for her.

Michael undressed and poured some shampoo into his palm. Of course Karen wasn't the only person whom he loved, as evident by his impulsive decision to invite the Johnsons to the mansion. He never thought he'd be capable of loving one person, much less two, yet over the past few weeks, Dawn had managed to weasel her way into his heart. Now he wanted to protect her, not just for Karen's sake but for her own as well.

The killer rinsed his hair and moved on to wash his body. There was no doubt that being with Karen was changing him as much as it was changing her. He supposed that was inevitable; however, because he had never experienced love before, he had greatly underestimated its power. His and Karen's love for each other had created an intangible bond between them—one that would now be impossible to destroy.

When he finished cleaning himself, Michael turned off the water and reached down for his uniform. He wrung most of the moisture from it before slinging it over one of the glass walls to let it dry. Then, he walked out of the stall.

Michael dried his body off with a large fluffy towel and put on the clothes he had chosen to wear for the day. They felt foreign and constricting, nothing like the baggy uniform he was so accustomed to wearing. Not only that, but there wasn't a place to put his knife. He certainly didn't need the sharp weapon to kill, but he still felt naked without it.

Sighing heavily, the killer left the bathroom. Karen, who was seated in a desk chair, instantly met his gaze, frowning slightly. "Michael, what's wro—" Her eyes suddenly widened, and the frown instantly dissipated from her lips. "Wow," she breathed. "That's a really good look for you, Michael."

"Yes, well, don't get used to it, sweetness," he cautioned. "As soon as it's ready, I'm changing back into my uniform."

"That's probably not a bad thing," she said, rising to her feet.

The killer could see Karen was getting worked up just by staring at him. In turn, his manhood pulsed hard against the front of his jeans. Without wasting any time, she dropped to her knees in front of him and tugged the zipper down. He was about to object, but all reasoning left his mind as she took him deep into her mouth.

Michael bent his head and watched his fiancé pleasure him. He grunted loudly when she gently bit down on his hardness and swirled her tongue around its head. He felt her smile as it twitched forcefully under her ministrations. "Karen..." he groaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. Her dark eyes locked with his. That was enough to send him right over the edge.

Once she finished gulping down his fluids, Michael yanked Karen up into his arms and kissed her full on the mouth. "You are a very naughty girl," he lightly scolded against her lips.

"Yes, but you love it," she muttered.

He affectionately nipped her bottom lip and said, "Only because I love you." Her expression changed just then, and he instantly knew what she wanted. "Karen, the Johnsons are here. We should really go downstairs and—"

"Please?" she softly pleaded, lightly stoking him. "I'm sure Dawn wouldn't mind some time alone with her parents, anyway."

Michael shook his head in resignation as his manhood once again stiffened. He reached down between him and Karen and slid a hand into the front of jeans. Not surprising, the front of her panties were already damp with moisture. It still amazed him how strongly their bodies reacted to each other.

He skimmed his forefinger over the wettest spot, barely grazing it, purposely teasing her. "Is this where you want me?" he huskily asked.

"Yes, oh yes," she whined. "Please…"

When Karen tried moving closer to his probing finger, Michael withdrew his hand completely and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand carefully away from his throbbing erection. Using his other hand, he popped open her jeans and pushed her clothing down to her knees. Then, he guided her hand to her wet center. He slid his hand over hers and slowly moved their index fingers to her nub that was already swollen with need. He firmly grasped her finger, manipulating it to do his bidding. When both their fingertips touched her little bundle of nerves, she jumped, her lips parting slightly as she inhaled a sharp breath. He bent his head and leisurely traced her mouth with the tip of his tongue while their fingers slowly encircled her sensitive nub.

"Michael," Karen breathed, "I want to watch. Please?"

He kissed her lips and then took a step back, giving in to her request. His eyes followed hers as they dropped to the area between her thighs. She opened her legs wider, which provided them both a better view. Together they rubbed and flicked her enlarged, taut, and extremely wet nub. "I don't recall ever getting you this excited during foreplay," the killer gutturally noted.

"This is very erotic, Michael, and it feels incredible," Karen evenly answered. "I love feeling what you feel when you touch me and seeing what you see."

"Well, in that case—" He withdrew their fingers and raised them to her face. "What about smelling?" He seductively questioned, brushing them against her nostrils. He attentively observed her while she inhaled her own scent, becoming quite aroused himself. "And then there's my second personal favorite…" He slid their digits down to her mouth and pushed them between her lips. "Tasting." He twirled their fingers around her tongue, offering her a sample of her sweet nectar. "Speaking of tasting—" He extracted their fingers from her mouth and once again lowered them to her wetness. Then, he knelt before her. Although his patience was beginning to wane, he kept his movements deliberate as he pressed their index fingers into her warmth. He heard her breath catch but that was nothing compared to the long throaty moan he received when he added his tongue.

"Michael…oh fuck," she groaned.

The killer yearned to reprimand Karen for using such foul language. Since his mouth was busy, he resorted to spanking. The gush of liquid that instantly followed genuinely surprised him. So, his lover didn't mind a little pain mixed with pleasure—good to know. He repeated the sharp slap and greedily lapped up the reward that ensued.

"Was that one really necessary?" she grumbled, though it was quite obvious that she had enjoyed the punishment just as much as he had enjoyed dishing it out. Yes, that would definitely come in handy later on.

Michael answered Karen's inquiry by thrusting their fingers and his tongue deeper into her wet hot core. She dug the fingernails of her free hand into his scalp, silently warning him she was about to climax. He immediately backed away from her, rose to his full height, and bent her over the wooden writing desk. He gave her bottom one last sound smack before entering her from behind. She was more than ready for him by this point, making it very easy for him to slide in and out of her. While he reached an arm around her and played with her nub, he eyed her nether hole, wondering how she would feel about exploring that aspect of her sexuality. Something told him to wait, but the desire to try it was there nonetheless.

When the teenager's body started to spasm, Michael leaned forward, pushing himself farther into her as he found her left ear. "Just so you know, sweetness, this is my first personal favorite," he softly told her. "Nothing can compare to actually being inside of you." He nuzzled her earlobe with his lips and added, "I love you, Karen." His words her only added to the ferocity of her orgasm. He was quick to follow, coming painfully hard.

Instead of collapsing on top of her, Michael pulled his lover her up against him and lowered them to the floor, being careful not to sever their intimate connection just yet.

"Holy cow, Michael. That was really intense," she stated while they spooned.

He tenderly nipped the shell of her ear. "I know."

"By the way," she said, "I love you, too."

Karen relaxed in his arms, and the killer instantly decided that meeting Dawn's parents could wait a bit longer. Right now this was where he needed to be, peacefully resting with his one true love.