"That good for nothing bitch deserves to die!" an angry youth paced around an elegantly furnished private study. His green eyes kept flicking to the two portraits on the desk, one on each side of it. His private study, his desk. "Both of them!"
He clenched his hands into tight fists at his sides. The youth, still pacing, came close to the desk and studied the pictures again. At one end sat a portrait of a lovely young woman with luxurious chestnut brown hair. At the other, a portrait of another lovely young woman, this one with hair the color of fire. Both of them were beautiful and very pleasing to the eye, despite the young man's rage.
He hated both of them. Hated them for the fire in his loins that they had caused. Hated them for being rebellious and most importantly, hated them for leaving. The youth's face flushed an angry red. A startling color when matched with his curly blond hair and forest green eyes. His handsome features contorted with his rage.
Almost forgotten by the raging youth, his company let out an amused chuckle. The companion sat nestled in one of the over-stuffed leather chairs settled in a corner of the study. Light from the candelabra on the wall above the forgotten company flickered slightly, illuminating his features.
Remembering the company he kept, the youth whirled around to face the older man. He smiled viciously when he remembered who else was in the room and gave his rage a physical focus. Trying in vain to keep his temper in check, he stormed over to the older man.
"And WHAT, pray tell, do you find so funny, Father?" he spit the words out with distaste.
The old man stopped chuckling and a pleasantly malicious smile formed on his time-tanned face. He ran one hand through his sandy blond hair. His blue eyes had a feral gleam that quickly faded. The hand gracefully fell to curl around the arm of the chair.
"Funny?" his deep voice filled the room, "Why nothing. Nothing at all, my son. I'm just amused at your temper."
There was a knock on the study door.
"Come!" the youth snapped. Muttering quietly to himself, "Can't get anything done with all these annoying people around!"
The door opened and a young servant, just barely older than a girl-child entered. Closing the door behind her, she carried in a rather large tray of pastries and coffee. Moving somewhat stiffly, she placed the tray on the empty table in front of the elder man. She turned to face the man sitting so comfortably in the leather chair and bowed slightly to him. The youth snarled at her until she turned and bowed to him, too.
"Anything else, Lord Jared? Lord Allen?" she asked demurely while staring at the floor.
Smiling with malicious pleasure, Jared beckoned the girl to come closer. He lifted one hand and placed it on her chin. Tilting her head up, he looked at her face, taking in her features. The girl had dirty blond hair, green eyes. She was also much too thin for her age and had a deep bruise forming on her neck and shoulder.
Why blond? Couldn't it be red? It NEEDS to be red, he thought. Shrugging inwardly he took her hand placed it on his upper thigh and said quietly, "I need a massage."
The servant girl's eyes flickered with disgust, but she didn't say anything and obeyed. She knelt on the carpet in front of the chair and began kneading and rubbing. Jared was soon sighing like a cat that was well satisfied.
"Now, back to you, my son," Jared's satisfied smile had a malicious edge to it, "I find your anger amusing because you can still get them back. You've youth and determination to try to break those girls' free wills and strong spirits. After that, they'll fawn over you at your command and be nothing more than this creature."
"And HOW am I to get them back?" the youth demanded loudly.
Jared shifted in the chair slightly. The servant girl's hand fell between his thighs as a result of his movement and his smile grew a little more satisfied. Her disgust grew, but still she said nothing.
"Allen, my son, I have resources. I had tried to make their mother mine again when I last saw her. I wasn't as young then as you are now. So I had lost their mother to that son of a whoring bitch." Anger flashed in Jared's eyes as he remembered the fight that was a result of his attempt. A fight that left his right arm crippled.
Allen glared at his father, then shifted his gaze to the bruise on the girl's neck. His anger rose as he saw not his father getting a hand job and the servant girl, but himself and the twins.
"You'll never get them back by yourself," Jared said thoughtfully, pulling Allen back to reality. Then he sneered slightly, "They've got that bitch of a mother and their precious little papa to protect them."
Lips curled in a snarl as Allen yanked the servant girl away from his father. "Enough! Fun and games are over for now. Leave me. I need some time to think."
Knowing full well his son's intention, Jared slowly rose out of the chair. With fluid grace, he walked to the study door. Opening it, he turned back to Allen and said calmly, "Don't think too hard. I'll be in my study should you need me."
Allen snarled viciously. His hand tightening on the girl's arm as she attempted to follow Jared out of the study. She cowered, whimpering in pain and fear. Her pain made him feel better.
Finally hearing the study door shut after what seemed like an eternity in his rage, Allen moved to sit in the vacated leather chair, pulling the girl with him. She remained standing as he released her arm.
"You're to serve me now!" Seeing the fear and disgust in her eyes, Allen smiled malevolently.
The servant girl bowed slightly and said quietly, "What would you like, my Lord?"
His smile broadened as he undid his trouser ties and flicked the front flap open. Watching her face, he saw her eyes widen and the disgust mirrored there grow. "On your knees," he demanded. With an underlying threat, he softly said, "Pretend that you love me."
She hesitated slightly, then was on her knees. Her hands rested on his knees for all of two seconds before they traveled up his thighs to his stomach. He shifted so she could pull his trousers down. The girl pulled down his trousers and shifted so one of her knees was between the arm of the chair and his lower thigh.
Instinctively, she knew she could not back out of this. No matter how much she felt disgusted by it all, nor how much her gorge rose, she knew that he would kill her if she defied him. So, she did as she was told.
It was several hours later when Daemon almost literally crawled from the back patio to the couch. Flopping onto it, he threw one arm over his head, letting one dangle over the edge and stared at the ceiling. The walls of his three bedroom apartment faded as he recalled the incident from earlier that afternoon. The memory of meeting the twins pushed everything else from his mind.
The one with the sharp hazel eyes seemed to miss nothing. Her eyes were penetrating and that made her seem wary of him. He could also tell that she might be the younger of the two. The other twin… Now that was something that he couldn't forget. He had seen her two times before at the library, both times it was late at night and she was always surrounded by books. She looked even better close up and her ice-blue seemed to compel him down roads he's never been on.
In the distance, he could hear a door open and close. Daemon hardly noticed until a slender feminine hand passed in front of his face. He blinked once, twice, then, finally focused on the youthful face above his own.
The girl, barely eighteen years old, standing over him had dark brown hair and light brown eyes. She usually wore her hair in a very tight braid, so seeing her with it hang about her sharp face like a lose veil was somewhat of a shock to Daemon. Her fair skin and delicate shape made her look younger than her years and yet her eyes said differently. She had knowledge and experience that went even beyond Daemon's twenty-two years.
"It's not like you to day-dream like that, Dae," she said solemnly.
Daemon snarled at the pet nickname that the girl gave him. "Since when did you start caring, Kelly?"
"I've always cared, you two-faced son of a leprous jackal! You've just been too damned busy with that damned 'secret' academy of yours to even notice!"
Her lips curled in a silent snarl. Just as she was about to give Daemon a bigger piece of her mind, the front door opened again. Both Daemon and Kelly turned to see who the intruder was. A man who could have been Daemon's twin, except in coloring, stood there. The man looked more like the girl standing over Daemon, though.
The expression on his face was that of someone who was afraid he might step onto a battlefield at any moment. After a moment or two, he shrugged his shoulders and leaned against the door frame. His shoulder length black hair swaying as he shook his head.
"I swear, you two fight like you're related," his deep voice held a hint of laughter. His gold-green eyes danced with mischief.
Daemon growled at him, "You may be my best friend, Rick, but that does not mean that I'm related to your," and Daemon emphasized the word by pointing at Rick, "sister. I'm going to take a shower and then I'm going to sleep. I'd appreciate it if I were left alone for now." Vacating the couch, he stormed out of the living room and into his room. Leaving his two baffled friends, both of them wondering why he was in a grouchy mood, behind in a hurry.
Seeing his friend in such a huff, Rick stepped further into the room and shut the door behind him. He shook his head and crossed the room to get to the previously occupied couch. Sinking into it with a grateful sigh, he looked at his kid sister. She looked just about as baffled as he felt. Then, turning his attention to something else, he looked outside the patio's sliding glass doors.
With another sigh, he glanced once more at Kelly, "All right, Kel. What'd you do this time?"
She had sunk onto the floor during the exchange between the two men and was staring at Daemon's door. A look of total innocence crossed her face before contemplation took its place and she shook her head. "That's the problem, Rick. This time I didn't do a damned thing."
Rick grunted once and tried to stretch. Some muscles were so sore that they wouldn't budge an inch. Kelly got up and pulled him off of the couch. Gently pressing him face down onto the floor, she straddled his lower back and began to slowly massage Rick's neck and shoulders.
"I knew I liked you training as an assassin for some reason, Kelly," Rick murmured into the carpet. He grunted, and then sighed as she worked at a large knot in the middle of his back.
Kelly smiled at the compliment that it was. Quietly, she said, "I think that there might be something wrong with Daemon."
Rick shifted so his head rested on his arms. Looking at Kelly out of the corner of his eye, he watched the worried look on her face change to something of a thoughtful one. "Maybe he met some girl," he said just as quietly.
Kelly's brow furrowed as she frowned slightly. Then, she shrugged. "She must have been a knock-out, if that's true, to make Daemon act like an upset zombie," her voice shook slightly from laughter that was burbling up.
Kelly quickly got up from sitting on Rick's lower back. She whirled around and grabbed a pillow off of the couch. Whirling back around, she smacked Rick on the butt with it. Yowling, he shot up off of the floor and spun around to face Kelly. He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up, holding her onto his shoulder.
Kelly tried to free herself by squirming and kicking at Rick's abdomen. She was laughing through the entire ordeal. Rick had her on his shoulder in such a way that she could not see where he was taking her. He opened the patio door and strolled over to the deep end of the pool that was situated in the center of a field ringed with apartment buildings.
"I'd hold your breath if I were you, Kel," Rick cautioned before he swung Kelly off of his shoulder and into the pool.
Kelly sank about half way to the bottom. Then, swam up and to the edge. Smoothly, she lifted herself out of the water and glared at Rick. He was laughing by the time that she had reached the surface and, still laughing, he tossed a towel at her.
"You look like a drowned rat, sis," his voice shook with his laughter.
Snatching the towel before it could touch the ground, Kelly began to vigorously dry herself off. When she had gotten herself mostly dry, Kelly stood up and continued to glare at her brother. "You may be my older brother, and I can still beat you into the ground, but one of these days… One of these days you are going to meet your match!" Kelly said ominously.
"How would you know, squirt?" he said, fighting to keep a straight face.
"I know, because one of these days you're going to get the same look on your face that Daemon had. And if you do something wrong, SHE'll toss you into the pool," Kelly grinned mischievously.
Rick shook his head laughing, and walked back to the apartment. He closed the sliding glass door quickly behind him and locked it. Smiling at Kelly, who was still on the other side, he walked away from the door and into his room.
Kelly glared at his retreating back and grunted once. "Thank god I kept my picks on me," she muttered. She walked up to the glass door and reached inside of her left boot. Pulling out the slim leather case hidden inside the top, she unfolded it and took out two tools. Within seconds, she had the door unlocked.