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Chapter eight
Seething with rage Tate slumped down into the cool rough sand at the edge of the shore.
Lifeless hands thirsting for vengeance clawed into crushed shells and green slimy seaweed tortured by the memory of her soft lips moving in painful slow motion as she spoke to Daniel.
The same lips that parted and moaned for him as she writhed and bucked in his arms shivering breathing out his name just a few moments before…
He was coming here, coming to see her, to try and touch her… touch his Violet.
But Tate wouldn't lose her not after everything, not after finally finding her… not for anything.
Closing his fierce eyes he envisioned images of what he was desperate to do, what he needed to do.
Blood bright red thick with cries of pain screamed deliciously in his ears as he visualized gutting Daniel.
Groin to sternum one long lingering slash tearing into flesh and muscle, fingers digging magnificently against a crushing windpipe, the slosh of intestines and organs spilling to the ground, measured painful drawn out agony written across a faceless man.
The last frantic guttural gasp of fruitless air, the blank stare of death, hollow, empty, final…
Surrendering to the dark thoughts clouding his mind he curled his hands into fists slamming them into the hard sand.
"Tate… my dear son, we need to talk."
Black hateful eyes snapped open hearing the patronizing, saccharine nauseating laced tone flowing between bright red dime store lipstick.
"There's nothing to talk about."
His words final and threatening were more of a warning than anything else but that meant very little to her.
Manipulation and fear were her weapons and she wielded them well, especially against a sensitive soul who she had been able to control since he was a little boy.
A son who's appetite boarded on the dark side even with having the paradox of being strangely empathetic and vulnerable.
At times thought of as weaknesses, these traits irritated her, but they were tolerated when she saw how attractive they served to be to the opposite sex.
A means to an end, she'd whisper to herself from the window as she watched him work his magic on unsuspecting girls.
"Forgive my need for formalities but I do believe it is only proper for a son when speaking to his mother to give her the respect of looking her in the eyes."
Clenching his jaw he rammed his heels into the rigid sand to push himself up so he could turn and face her.
Shoving his hands in his pockets he glared up to her noticing immediately the embedded crows feet stretching out from her ice blue eyes and the deep gouges wedged between her eyebrows.
She would soon be growing desperate, ravenous for what she craved and what now was an inquiry would soon be a deadly demand.
Tate edged pensive dark eyes towards the lapping wake of the sea observing as it caressed the rocky shore beckoning it, luring it back into the endless deep abyss of the vast ocean.
He remembered wishing that it would take him out too, remove him from her clutches into somewhere clean and safe.
But that day never came.
He was so young when it started, barely eight years old.
It was a hazy memory one full of regret; reminisce of his innocence still lingered within these thoughts, a recollection of what it was like to be alive and untainted.
Before Constance ripped it all away, forcing him to do her dirty work, coercing him into devious deeds that would change him forever, that would give him a taste and a hunger that would never be satiated.
"No mama, I can't do it, I won't."
He could still hear his baby sister screaming in the closet full of broken mirrors, locked terrified alone, all because of him.
He could still picture his mother, hands on her hips, unaffected, emotionless glaring down over him.
"Let her out."
Big brown eyes peaked skittishly out from a mop of blonde hair as his hands shook staring up into her cold stare.
Calmly she placed her long coral painted fingernails along his chin bringing his little face closer to her.
"Do you know what would happen to little Addy if you forced me to keep her in that closet Tate, alone… scared, without water or food?"
He looked around nervously as she pointed a single finger sharply against his flushed cheek forcing his tear filled eyes towards the closet door.
Shaking his head he recalled wishing for his father that walked out just months before.
Months before catching her with another man, weeks after her suicide in the ocean, leaving them alone with a vengeful ghost with a merciless appetite for fleeting youth and handsome men…
"Well dear let me inform you, it's already been eight hours… by tomorrow night her skin will begin to feel as if it's on fire. She'll start to incessantly scratch and tear at herself everywhere ripping into her body making it bleed. Soon after that the hallucinations will begin. Things that aren't there will begin to appear, monsters with big gnashing teeth and claws as sharp as razors will crowd next to her drooling over her helpless body, feeding off her fear. Her tongue will start to swell and crack choking the very life out of her."
Reaching his little hands over his ears to block out her horrific words he shook his head begging her to stop.
"I'll do it… I'll do whatever you want, just please let her out."
He had always been her protector, her guardian against a crazy mother whose madness only intensified to dangerous heights after her death.
It was there on that lonely stretch of beach where he would wander searching out the next lamb to be slaughtered.
He never understood how easily it was to lure them, to get them to believe whatever sob story he decided to spin.
So trusting and naïve, he knew better, always did.
People lie, deceit, betray… kill.
It was the way of the world, at least his anyway.
When he was little all he had to do was shed a few tears and hold out his little hand asking for help.
"Please help me, my mom fell and she isn't moving, I'm scared and all alone… please come with me I don't want to go back there all alone."
And just like that they would follow, right into the hands of the devil, right into hell itself.
In the beginning he would stand in the corner squeezing his eyes shut, holding Addy as she cried, but he got older and with that came a morbid curiosity, a temptation to watch.
When he grew and changed so did the game, blessed with an angelic face with wisps of blonde hair that fell over big sensitive vulnerable eyes and a wicked devilish grin he became the kind of sultry bait that truly mesmerized any girl unlucky enough to find herself in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Fait can be a cruel heartless bitch when she wants to be.
The art of seduction came natural to him; girls were instantly drawn, pulled in by the simple curve of his lips or the velvet rise in his voice.
Whether it was a street wise hooker, a pot smoking kid that strayed from her friends, or even a wayward innocent run away, he knew just what to say, how to adapt his cunning wit, spin his childlike sexy charm walking them right to the door of their untimely end.
"You are a very clever boy – "
"I am a man now mother, not a boy."
Huffing with impatience he began to back away into the rolling mist.
"Yes well the jury's still out on that one I'm afraid, seems to me she's holding out for this, Daniel, and well let's face it sweetheart unlike you he is very much alive. With him she can live and thrive in a world of endless possibilities, where as you... well my lovely boy you can't even walk past this blasted mist. Just do the right thing and give her to me, before she breaks your little heart to pieces."
Already feeling the loss of Violet beneath his skin he disappeared leaving his mother with a mere echo and the promise of a fight for her soul.
"Not her, not ever."
vTv
Stretching out onto his back Tate stared up at the attic ceiling bathed in the comfort of the pitch blackness that covered him like a thick heavy blanket.
It was then that he heard it, directly below from where he was laying, water rushing into the porcelain clawed old fashioned tub.
Pressing his ear to the dusty floor boards he could clearly make out the pulsating water filling up the tub beneath him.
His eyes slid closed as the water abruptly halted knowing she was at that very moment slipping her bare body into the searing hot water.
A deep groan left him as his hand drifted over the stiffness growing quickly inside his ripped jeans.
"You have to show her."
Whipping his head around he narrowed his eyes attempting to make out the small form huddled in the corner behind some boxes.
"Chelsea? Is that you?"
He whispered softly knowing that the slightest wrong move could send her right back into the dark recesses of the basement to disappear.
Being petrified of Constance the girls chose to stay down in the basement even though they had the freedom to roam the entire house.
From time to time one or more would venture past the stairs but it wasn't the norm, but Chelsea like being close to Tate, always staying undetectable, always wanting something she could never have.
"She's unsure of herself, with the likes of men, she needs… encouragement. Go help her, show her how desirable she is."
Standing up Tate moved towards her only catching a wisp of her red hair as it flew in the air disappearing from his sight.
vTv
Listening to the rustle of hot water as it lapped against her pale skin caused him to rest his forehead against the bathroom door.
Violet sunk deeper in the steamy bath completely unaware of his presence just outside the room.
Tall flames from white candles surrounded her wavering seductively back and forth in rhythm to the wind drifting through warped windows frames and cracked walls that held too many secrets to count casting strange shadows that danced before her hazel eyes.
His hand drifted over the wood of the door lightly hearing droplets of water spill from her baby soft skin as she ran her fingertips experimentally over her thighs.
Pushing the door ever so carefully he could see her now through a heavenly inch wide gap giving him a stunning naked wet view of her that he had up till now only dreamed about.
"Fuck."
Damp honey locks stuck to her skin as a sweltering haze rose in waves off every part of her.
Small slick breasts peaked out through soapy scorching water as her back arched and knees rose parting gloriously before him.
The devil himself couldn't have held him back as he edged the door open unnoticed to her as her eyes continued to stay closed locked in her own little world.
Chest heaving, lips parted, cock rock hard he glared down at her using all of his willpower not to materialize so he could pull her up from the tub to fuck her senseless on the bathroom floor.
Flames from the candles flickered violently as a cold breeze wafted through the room causing little goose bumps to rise along her flushed pink skin.
Settling behind her he knelt down perching his full lips close to her ear.
Fluctuating dreamily between a heated induced daze she was vaguely aware of her surroundings, but not at all aware of him.
Icy breath pulsated along her neck caused her to shiver as she gripped the sides of the tub needing to have a sense of stability, to feel anchored somehow as her fantasy of him came to fruition.
Her head fell back as she breathed out his name in an almost desperate plea.
"Tate… please…"
Black lustful eyes widened then closed as he worked to calm himself down.
Violet was fantasizing about him, with no influence, no provoking or coercive suggestions whispered in her ear.
He could feel her hesitation as she skimmed her fingers down between her thighs stopping just short of the place she needed to be.
Frustration knitted her eyebrows as she squeezed her eyes shut wishing she could 'just let go' like he had urged her to back downstairs when he was slipping his fingers inside her teasing mercilessly as he slowly continued to thrust himself behind her.
She pictured him there hovering over her eyes intense demanding sultry staring down at her.
The thought sent a searing ache straight her clit causing her to clench her thighs together while a strangled whimper left her parted lips.
Hungry black eyes watched intently as her fingers drifted to her breast lingering just over her hard peak.
As if knowing she needed a push he leaned forward, his unsteady cold breath dancing along her skin soothing her, encouraging her.
"I'm here Violet."
Her breath hitched in her dry throat at his barely there whisper floated around her body diving inside, wrapping around her rushing beside her.
Choosing to believe this was her over active imagination he suddenly became very real.
Her eyes narrow barely open gazing over the steam lifting off of her now consumed by messy blonde hair and a whimsical seductive grin.
"Tate… "
Wining now almost on the verge of crying from her need to cum she finally let her fingers navigated by his imaginary ones drift over her taut nipple.
"Touch yourself… please yourself. "
A gentle flick soon turned to a hard pull as her other hand feverishly descended to her throbbing clit.
Tate growled loudly as her knees spread wide hitting the sides of the tub forcefully causing the water to spill over the sides splashing into delicate puddles onto the floor extinguishing the candles that circled her.
"It's me sweet Violet… my fingers touching you…my tongue tasting you…"
Breathless her hips began to buck in slow agonizing rhythm to the image drifting through her mind as her fingers worked their will bringing her closer to the edge.
Tate's fingers dug into the intricate tub curling gripping pulling as his willpower began to wane.
It was too much watching her fall apart before him, to the image of him without being able to actually touch her.
Remembering Chelsea's words he breathed out in frustration trying to restrain himself.
"Help her… show her how desirable she is…."
His icy breath gently feathered the skin on the back of her neck as he let her find her way, knowing she needed this.
"So fucking beautiful, don't stop Violet... "
Moaning his name again she picked up the pace as she pulled in her bottom lip hard ripping into her sweet cut once again.
"Oh god, Tate... "
Tiny drops of blood pooled along her panting mouth before falling into the water as her teeth roughly bit into her lip.
Everything blurred into a searing point of no return for him as he watched the crimson ripples lap against her skin.
The closer to the edge she ventured the harder he strained to control himself behind her, his muscles flexed contracting almost painfully, his cock twitched hard pulsating begging for release.
"Fuck Violet… cum for me!"
He didn't mean to be so loud; he never meant to startle her, to give up his position suspended in back of her.
Tate was in a panic, she couldn't know, not now.
Snapping her head up she sat up in the tub instantly covering her chest, thrashing her head all around searching out the demanding voice that just a moment ago rasped urgently against the back of her neck.
Breathless she looked around confused as her frightened eyes widened.
Briefly she wondered if she were crazy, but there was no doubt, that voice, his voice was unmistakable, thick with lust, commanding assaulting her senses… uninvited but not unwanted…she knew without really knowing… it was him.
But how, it wasn't possible, she would've have seen him leave, nothing was making sense.
Shakily she called out to him lost as to how one second he was behind her and the next gone.
"Tate?"
That's when she saw it, smudged along the full length mirror against the back of the bathroom door.
A handprint, larger than her small hand...
She watched stunned as condensation dripped down from the imprint of his long fingers as if it just happened.
Shivering now holding her knees tight to her chest she whispered out his name confirming to herself that what she was seeing was real.
"Tate."