Chapter Nine
Austin
After three weeks, the tattoo is almost complete. Melina’s stories always begin when I push the pedal and fire up the Dragonfly. By now she knows I won’t offer comfort. That doesn’t stop the words from pouring into the room. It’s hard not to believe her. The horrifyingly real details paint a life of fear and survival much like mine, only hers carries on today. My nightmare ended when Victor picked me up from the juvenile facility.
Diego Fernandez will die by my hand for what he did to Cindy and now, for what has been done to Melina.
Every two days I bring her upstairs, allow her time to wash in the bathroom sink and eat a meal at the table. The hard part is taking her back into the basement. I enjoy seeing her walking in my home. When she’s up here, I think of the house as mine and not Victor’s. Maybe I like having her up here too much.
All I have left to ink is the top and bottom parts of the design. One skeletal hand will swirl over her shoulder and settle on her breast. The other will wrap around the top of her ass, resting on one bronzed cheek. I’m excited to begin on the end but that also means our time is almost up.
Melina says nothing when I push the blanket farther down and prep the area of her hip and ass. I swear her skin is softer here. Her ass, for such a skinny woman, is something to behold. The curve of her butt rounds gently and draws the attention of my cock. Oh yes, I want what I refuse to take.
The first skeletal outline with a small bit of shading will take an entire session. Melina stays quiet, which seems strange now.
Halfway through she finally asks, “It’s almost done, isn’t it?”
She knows her time here is short. If everything she’s told me is true, her brother will take my revenge out on her. I seriously doubt he’ll kill her, but the thought unsettles me. I want him to see my claim and feel the pain of having his sister defiled. He’ll never guess I didn’t touch her sexually. All he’ll see is my brand. Diego Fernandez will suffer for his sins, and his sister will be a daily reminder that I’m coming for him.
I have the strangest urge to protect her and I’m fighting it. It’s taken this past week to come to terms with what some would call feeling. Cindy was the only person who brought any sense of compassion out of me. Her death affected me deeply, and I can admit that now. Listening to Melina makes me see some things differently. It won’t change that I’m twisted inside and always have been. Melina is better off as far away from me as possible. I won’t keep her because of what they did to Cindy, but the impulse to help her is difficult to resist.
Melina doesn’t tell me a story today. She remains quiet and it’s actually difficult to concentrate on ink without her voice filling the room.
After I finish our session, I spend the remainder of the morning with two of my men at the homestead. We inventory the weapons to ready them for delivery. I’ve never minded getting my hands dirty. I’m not Victor, who left the sweaty work to his men. I need the sweat to clear my head and keep me focused on the end game with Fernandez.
Andreas hands me a heavy box and I stack it on the others we’ve inventoried. “There’s been rumblings, boss.”
I turn to Andreas. “Spill.”
He looks away before once more meeting my eyes. “Fernandez and his gang are coming closer. They must know you have his sister. Is she still alive?” Andreas should know better than to question me. He raises his hand when my eyes go hard and he takes a step back. “If you don’t want to know these things, boss, don’t tell me to spill. I’ll fight on your side until there’s no fight left, but I think me and the men deserve the truth before the war starts.”
“There’ll be no war,” I say slowly. Andreas stares at me while I gather myself and try to calm the fuck down. He’s right. The men followed Victor because when it worked in his favor, Victor told them the truth. I know he lied often, but there was always a reason. His men followed him because even as cold-hearted as he was, they respected his leadership. The men look at me differently. Fear is not the same as respect.
“Okay, boss.” He lets it drop and we get back to work. I don’t tell him I plan to take out every member of the gang until I get to Fernandez. Then I’ll relish taking the dark light from his eyes. Maybe when it’s over, I’ll go back for Melina.
And where the hell did that thought come from?
She says Fernandez will kill her, but I still don’t believe it. If he does, it will be very, very bad for Fernandez.
∞∞∞
The anticipation I feel when I walk into the house is energizing. I’ll be working on shading the lower part of Melina’s piece and beginning the front piece this evening. Tomorrow I’ll go over the shading and highlighting with white where needed. The tapestry is everything I hoped. By far my best work.
The remainder of the design should be complete in two days and then she’ll need a few days to heal. Then, my true vengeance will begin and Fernandez’s world will turn upside-down again. I want him to know I’m coming.
Melina is waiting for me curled in the fetal position. This image will remain in my dreams for a very long time. Even with the blanket pulled up around her chin, she’s gorgeous. I haven’t really given thought to how she’s handled being alone in the dark for so long. Her skin is paler than it was when I brought her here. She’s possibly thinner too.
I wait patiently for her eyes to open; I might not smile on the outside but inside the day turns sunny when she blinks awake. Yeah, she’s changed me. I give her a minute to come fully awake before unchaining her. I’ve alternated her ankles because the chain is rubbing on her skin, causing abrasions. She’s cooperated, so she gets a side of me few people see.
“Good morning, Austin,” she greets me. She likes using my name and I like the sound of it on her lips.
I help steady her when she stands and lead her to the bed. When she tries to roll over, I stop her with a gentle hand. “Lie facing up.” Her hands clench the blanket and I let her keep it pulled tight while I set up my kit. “Pull the blanket down slightly and keep it out of my way,” I instruct.
I rest my hand on her shoulder. The skin is softer at her throat and it fascinates me. I turn my hand and partially wrap my fingers around her slender neck. She stops breathing when I add a bit of pressure.
“It’s okay, please kill me,” she moans.
I ease the pressure while looking into her stark, brown eyes. They’re flaked with gold and hold an entire world I know nothing about. I only know the bad parts and I know she’s unafraid. She may be the only person who doesn’t fear me. It’s one of the reasons I believe the stories she’s told me. Her lack of fear could only come from a place that’s lived with ongoing terror. I had the same demeanor when Victor brought me here. Nothing done to me could be worse than what I had already survived. She’s like me—a survivor. Her brother won’t be the end of her. His death will bring her freedom. No, I won’t kill her even if the thought of squeezing her throat until she’s unconscious has my cock going rock hard. The biggest problem is I don’t trust myself to stop before it’s too late and that would ruin my plans. Yeah, the old Austin is still here and scarier than ever.
I work on her shoulder connecting the tapestry to a skeletal arm matching the one on her ass. She inhales slowly and grimaces when I hit a sensitive spot on her collarbone. She’s different today, much like yesterday. I’ll miss her story time, but we both need space from our growing attachment.
We’re about fifteen minutes into the session when she decides to speak. “My body changed as I grew older. I hated it because I knew what was waiting for me. My brother’s men might not talk but they looked. All the men started looking. My prison became tighter. My brother hired a prostitute and had sex with her in front of me. ‘This is what you have coming, sister dear,’ he said while he pounded into her from behind. He had her bent over a table and I could see her expression. She was pissed off. Her anger turned to pain when Diego pulled her head back by the hair until he almost snapped her neck. Either way I already knew she would die. That was always part of my brother’s fun. He shot her in the head right on our table and laughed when her brains splattered everywhere. I learned how to fuck by watching my brother. He always wanted me to know what I was good for.” She sighs before whispering, “I fear that more than death.”
After those words, she goes silent. I work for hours getting the front skeletal arm perfect. I have her slide the blanket down as I continue. Running the soap over her bare breast is excruciating for my cock. Having her watching me while I work is the same. It was easier when I couldn’t see her eyes or her lips. Easier when I thought I didn’t care.
I end the session before I’m ready because I’m fighting too hard to control touching her in a very different way. She trudges slowly to the wall, completely subdued.
As I’m walking up the stairs, she asks, “How much time do I have left?”
“Five days.” I’ll finish tomorrow night if I do two sessions tomorrow. The next four days will be aftercare. I want the colors to stand out. I want her brother to see how I’ve branded her. I want his hate until I have his blood on my fingers.
∞∞∞
I spend a restless night thinking about Melina and the nightmare she’s lived. We’re two of a kind, but she’s not the monster I am. There’s still a softness about her. I can actually picture her holding a baby and being a good mother. Her child would not grow up as I did. I also don’t see her putting up with a man like her brother.
With a flip of the switch, I turn on the light and open the basement door. Slowly I walk down the steps knowing I’ll miss this. Melina’s eyes are open and she is waiting. She doesn’t say anything. She hasn’t complained since the first day. Not about the food I cook or lack of food, like this morning when I know she was hungry.
Nervous energy fills me. I’ll be done tonight and the anticipation of seeing the finished product is exhilarating. Years ago, when I began working on actual skin, not grapefruit or pig skin, Victor’s guards took the brunt of my beginner’s technique. They didn’t complain and for most it was a huge step up from the prison tats that decorated their flesh. Since my late teens, I’ve become much pickier with my clients. Most comment on the lack of ink on my own skin. I won’t sit under anyone’s machine and I won’t tat myself. I never bothered explaining because the simple fact is I want no identifying marks on my body. With a dark pair of shades to cover my green eyes, I go unseen for the most part and that’s how I prefer it. My clients pay a lot of money for one of my designs, not to know why I do things or how I do them. No one has ever complained.
I wipe ink off Melina’s skin knowing the morning session is over. “I’ll bring breakfast in a few minutes,” I tell her after she sits up. I allow her to walk around while I go upstairs and start breakfast. She’s standing against the wall when I carry it down. She remains quiet when I chain her foot. She’s punishing me in the only way she can. It would be laughable if it weren’t for the fact that I miss her voice.
After I clean the kitchen and double check the lock on the basement door, I drive back to the homestead. Two of Fernandez’s men who helped my thief are waiting for me. My men leave the small back room while I work. This time I remove my clothes and just use a rubber apron to work. After Melina’s silence, I need to feel blood and hear screams. I need to kill.
As blood cascades down the plastic lined walls and floor, I think of Melina. She’s my peace. Her words soothe me and give me something I didn’t know I was missing. Companionship maybe? Killing is a lonely sport and these men’s screams do little to take me out of my funk. But, Melina says one word and I’m at attention. I can’t care about her because I’m a scarier monster than her brother. I won’t care because she means something to me and she deserves a decent life after her brother dies and I plan to give that to her. Without me.
I wash myself down with a hose in the garage where we have a floor drain. If a ticket-happy cop pulls me over, I don’t want him to see the evidence of the recent blood bath inside the homestead. My men looked away when I walked past them. I’ve left them to clean up the mess again.
I return home and head straight to the shower. The warm water washes away the remainder of my crime. My cock rises because I can’t stop thinking about tonight’s session with Melina. I run a soapy hand under my balls, around, and up the length of my dick. The image of Melina and her glorious back floats through my mind as I add pressure and increase the pace of my sliding hand. The ink and colors are perfect for her skin and accent the natural curves of her back. I lose it as I imagine running my fingers over the tattoo—following each line and curve with my tongue—fucking her until she can’t walk. Loud groans fill the shower when I find release.
I prepare a light dinner for us. When it’s ready, I head downstairs to the waiting canvas. The thrill of completing the ink is more than enough to celebrate. I replaced the batteries in the small flashlight I left her and I notice the light before turning the overhead one on. She’ll be leaving in only a few days. When she’s gone, I’ll start the next step in my plan, and it will put her that much closer to taking charge of her own destiny.
She glances up as I walk closer. She’s been crying, and I feel someone’s pain other than my own. I don’t like this feeling. Maybe in my fucked up mind I’m using Melina to replace Cindy. I mentally shake myself. No, my dick never got hard over Cindy. This woman is nothing like her. Even with the rough life Victor lived, he kept Cindy out of the illegal part of his empire and protected her. Cindy didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Melina is different. Melina is more than capable of murder. Death is in her eyes especially tonight.
I gaze down at her, wondering if things were different, could we be together. I doubt it, but there’s a part of me that wishes our lives were different. “We’re eating upstairs to celebrate,” I finally tell her.
Her cold, hard eyes warm my heart. I know she’d kill me if given the opportunity.