Voila! Some good old fashioned violence. Mostly I'm trying to fill in some story and offer a different experience each time. As always, comments and feedback are always appreciated!

Chapter 4

“You don’t know that for sure,” said Devon to the body maker. He looked enough like the body maker to give the impression they could be brothers. Though his hair was curly and his eyes a darker sapphire than his friend’s blue topaz. He wore all black, casual attire, but he was hunched, a tension behind his eyes. He leaned up against the wall, arms crossed and bangs in his face.

“She just took it!” The body maker was leaned over a long glass case which contained the body of a woman. It was the same body that had been fed to the dogs, only he had restored it and dressed in a dress of red and black. His hands gripped the edges of the box, knuckles white. He was in his uniform of black and red.

There were two rows of those glass coffins, each with a different body that now had an attachment to a particular soul. Each soul was potentially his lost love. The room was not large, but the ceiling was high with red drapes decorating the walls.

“Look, she could just…not remember anything. I mean, humans rarely recall anything prior to birth.” The body maker didn’t reply to his friend. He waited patiently, seeing his friend’s eyes darken to a shade similar to his own. The search was driving him mad. He prepared himself for the repercussions of what he was about to say, took a deep breath, and said, “You may never find her. You know that, right?”

Sure enough, his friend’s face snapped up to look at him, his eyes now a deep reflective ocean blue. His jaw worked, and he stormed up to him. Devon didn’t budge. The body maker roared and flung his fist in the direction of Devon, but Devon stayed motionless as the fist collided with the wall behind him. The fist kept punishing the wall beside his ear and he waited patiently for the tantrum to finish.

The body maker finally relaxed for a moment. He kept his face down, not wanting to look up at his friend. He heaved a sign, straightened and turned before his eyes met Devon’s. Then he left through a pair of gilded doors.

Devon’s arms relaxed, and he pushed himself off the wall with his shoulders. The girl in the coffin had been listening. He sensed it and he was sure his friend has sensed it too, but he didn’t want anything to do with any of them at the moment. He wanted her to be the one very badly, and that’s why Devon suspected that she was probably the one. It had been a while since he had seen him this worked up.

He walked to the glass case. She lay there looking peaceful, her eyes closed and her hands folded across her chest, left over right. Why? Some things are better left a mystery, particularly when they are from the astral. He looked up to make sure his friend wasn’t watching, then he opened the lid and put his hand on her shoulder. “Wake up my dear. It’s safe for now.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up with light, amber colored eyes. There was fear in there, and heartbreak. Her chest began to swell as she took in a long breath, which she released in a sigh before sitting up. He helped her out and she thanked him.

“You were listening,” he said to break the silence.

She nodded, “But, I couldn’t hear very well. I’m still not sure what’s going on. When I’m here I can remember things from this world better than when I’m awake on earth. But when I’m awake on earth, I barely remember what happens here.”

“That’s normal.”

Her eyes rested on his and she waited.

“He does care about you, you know that, right? Out of all the other women here in his collection, you are most certainly his favorite.”

“For now.”

He tilted his head and offered a playful smirk. “You care about him.”

She nodded. “I do.”

“Why, because he bangs you just right?”

Her brows furrowed, and she looked away, her spine straightening with pride. “I don’t know why. Maybe because I see that apart from being a practiced sadist, he’s intelligent and he holds himself with dignity.”

“So?”
She shot him a glare. “What’s your point?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your panties in a knot. He’s beautiful. He’s not human. It’s easy to fall for him, particularly as a human peering into this plane. It’s all a perfect mystery. Of course you’re crazy for him.”

A mischievous smile crawled across her lips. “You’re jealous.”

It was his turn for his eyes to darken. “Don’t push your luck sweetheart.”

Her expression fell, and she seemed lost in though. She was trying to put everything together. “If it isn’t real…if what I feel isn’t real, then it won’t last, it will end, and I won’t care. So, for now I will pursue this until it ends. At the very least it will be an interesting chapter in my life.”

“Ha!” he crossed his arms, “Good luck.” She didn’t move though, and his arms dropped again. She wanted to go out there, but she was afraid. He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, “You want me to escort you?”

He must not have worded it right she shot him a look and said, “I can do this myself.”

He shook his head and said, “No, I mean it, I can take you to him if you need me to. He’s in a mood.”

Her expression softened, and she nodded. “Yes please.” He walked to her and she took her place beside him. “Could you stay in the room too?”

He offered a comforting smile and nodded once, “As long as I know he will allow my dear. I would rather not be present should things get…physical. Makes me uncomfortable. I’m sure you understand.”

She nodded, and he opened the door. He went out first and after he was well into the large hall he bowed dramatically, announcing in a voice dripping with attitude, “My Lord, I have a lady here wishing audience with your majesty.”

She walked in right after, her hands pulling up on the skirt of her dress. The hall was large enough for eight golden columns to line each side of the black room. Marble topped tables stood between each column holding golden candelabras with lit white candles. Red drapes also served as a decoration for those walls. A red carpet stretched out from the doors to a blocky stone throne which sat squat and wide on the other end of the long room. Its flat grey appearance looking almost out of place were it not for the black of the stone walls and floor.

His back was to them, hands clasped behind him, and his head tilted up to gaze at another glass box displayed on the wall behind the throne. Within was the body of another woman posed like a divine being ascending with her arms to her sides and her palms facing forwards. Her head was tilted back, raven black hair cascading around her, and eyes closed in sleeping bliss. Her dress was black and gold, flowing in layers down to the floor. She had no idea what kept her there aside from a magic she didn’t understand.

‘That body must be her then,’ she had thought to herself. She was stunningly beautiful.

She walked towards him until she was only a few feet away and waited. The moment passed into awkwardness as she discovered she didn’t quite know what to say. He didn’t budge.

Her hands wrung, and her lips twitched as she tried to find words. Finally, she stuttered out a, “Won’t you speak to me?”

He turned and faced her. “What do you want?”

“I….” What did she want? “I…want to make you happy.” It sounded stupid, but she didn’t stop the words in time.

His eyes flicked up as he laughed, “Oh really? You and all the other girls my dear.”

The insult stung. “What did I do wrong?” She finally shouted. “That time on the table, the second time I saw you, you…”

“Yes, yes, we made love, it was magical. Didn’t it mean something? It must have, right?” his tone was mocking but his voice burst out of him afterwards saying, “That is the problem with you! You just take it! You take it all without a whimper of complaint!”

She startled and took a step back.

His left hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat, “You think it means something. Yes, your type always think it means something.” He head was tilted at an aggressive angle, his teeth bared, and his eyes widened. His thumb was pressing painfully into the skin just under the angle of her jaw. He started to lift her. Here eyes bulged, and her hands pulled at his wrist and fingers. “You want me to love you? Right?”

He pushed her back and her legs stumbled underneath her, but she couldn’t fall. He lifted her higher. His right arm swung out and knocked a candelabra off a table as he slammed her onto the white marble. “This is what you want right?” he growled through gritted teeth.

His palm was starting to press down on her throat. She kicked, but he was stronger. Her fist swung out and struck his jaw, but she might as well have hit stone. It felt unreal. His head didn’t shift in the slightest. His skin felt solid against the skin of her knuckles.

In a quick motion his hands took hold of the top of the corset and ripped the laces apart. Her bosom seemed to enlarge as the constricting item released its hold. She took another deep breath. Curling into a ball she tried to heave him off of her with her knees but once again he overpowered her, forcing her legs down to either side of him. His strength, unnatural. Fabric ripped as he clawed the front of her dress apart, exposing her breasts to him.

She looked around and sure enough Devon had left. A hiccupping sound jumped out of her like something between a laugh and a sob. Meanwhile he pulled up her skirt and tore off her underwear. It gave her the opportunity to try to push off him and over the back of the table, but he grabbed her by the waist with one hand as he undid his belt and pants with the other.

“This is what you want right?” he growled as he forced himself inside her. A blunt cry escaped her as he thrust hard. Blindly she tried to push him away. He caught her wrists and pinned them to either side of her head. He continued to thrust viciously, his rage driving him deep into her. Each time her clit was smashed, and it sent a wave of pain through her. Her breasts jumped painfully with every plunge.

Yet the violent motion was stimulating her internally and she tried to focus on that. A moan escaped as the pain in her clitoris began to evolve into a pleasure, but the sensation was interrupted as his fist struck her hard against her cheekbone. The pain was sharp at first, but a tingle akin to numbness spread giving her the impression the flesh was swelling until the impact site was pulsing with a dull ache. It had stunned her, but also awoke something in her.

Rage welled up inside, and he could feel it. His hands wrapped around her neck and he pushed down, and his rhythm increased. In a panic she tried to inhale but it wheezed as the air forced its way through the narrowed pipe and back out. Her eyes bulged, and her ears were filled with the dull roar of her pulse.

He watched with satisfaction as tears leaked from the corners of her reddening eyes. Her face turned red then quickly to purple. He could even see a blossom of tiny red pinpricks across her skin as the blood vessels burst. Her arms had dropped to the sides but moved in a slowed flail.

For her, the strangulation only heightened the sensations between her legs. She could feel her own sex swell with pleasure. Her rage was still alive within her, but she would have this. She would have this, then she would have her revenge.

Finally, the pressure burst and the orgasm broke, rushing through her like water in her flesh and fire in her nerves. It shot up her clit first, then scattered through her body. He felt it as her muscles constricted rhythmically around his own sex. It ignited his fury again, that she should take pleasure when he was trying to deliver pain, and in his left hand his black dagger materialized. With finality he brought it down into the center of her chest and her head flung back as a death cry heaved from her. With that it was his turn to come.

His spine arched as his own orgasm fountained up into his abdomen. His eyes closed against the force of it and his teeth gritted.

That was exactly the moment she had waited for though. She pulled the blade from her chest and in a fluid motion she buried it in his. His eyes shot open as a hiccup of air pushed out from the impact.

There was a sudden moment of stillness. He looked down at the blade then looked at her face. It was hard, and the hole in her chest was still there, leaking blood over her torso. Her hand was firm on the handle and she pushed him off her, standing as he stumbled back.

“No Ashre,” she said in a low voice.

He coughed up a mouthful of blood in surprise at hearing his name, a name he knew hadn’t been spoken around her.

She shook her head slowly. “No. That isn’t what I want.”

Her spine straightened and there was silence again, but she didn’t let go of the knife. Finding her strength, she pushed back until he was forced into his throne over one of the armrests. She straddled him and tilted his head back with her knuckle under his chin as he tried to keep himself propped up on his elbows.

The pain had left his face, replaced with awe. His eyes were that electric blue again that she loved so much. “Lilat?” he wheezed out. The knife was yanked out, inspiring more blood to come coughing out of him. She pulled his head back by the hair, drawing hip up to her, and kissed his blood-soaked lips, tasting his false life in full.

She pulled back, but did not release her grip on his hair. “Never, ever do that to me again.”