1 comments/ 8734 views/ 1 favorites Dark Awakening Ch. 01 By: LillaBean Prologue: 1930 Funny thing was, she'd never felt this well rested before. Her eyes were still a bit fuzzy, the darkness only lifted a few moments ago. Light strings of a dream were pulled taught. She grasped at them only to have the strings break and slip through her fingers. What was left was a soft whisper of a name. Her name. Ava sat up under a weeping willow tree. Strange. She didn't remember falling asleep here. There was a soft breeze flipping the branches towards her, beckoning her to come out of her cove and back into the world. Ava drew herself to standing, wobbling at first on her own two feet, and then pushing aside the willow's curtain. It was breath taking. Rolling hills of greens and autumn leaves seemed to go on forever. Her ears picked up the sounds of chirping birds and another sound quite foreign to her. A loud whistling siren. Curious. She darted through the trees, following that strange noise which had tarnished the beauty of her landscape. Her bare feet stumbling on twigs and pebbles, she didn't notice the scrapes on her feet disappearing as soon as they were made. Ava caught her breath, inhaling twice before she mustered enough courage to continue. The whistling she had heard was a train. Chapter 1: Present Day Oh yeah. He was the one. Ava adjusted in her seat. She'd been sitting there for a full hour now watching the room, praying for one, just one interesting John to enter, and guess what, tonight was her lucky night. She'd been ready, oh so fucking ready, to take this shark down, her legs began tingling with excitement. That might have been because they'd fallen asleep, but there was nothing like the cusp of a new best friend to get her all riled up. Maggie, the waitress who had been so patient with Ava, stalked past her again. Filling her cup wasn't Maggie's only job. She tucked a fresh coaster under the Gin and tonic and winked. Maggie loved winking almost as much as she loved sashaying in tiny tight leather skirts. Leather was fine if you wanted to hump a biker, or a cowboy, but its flexibility didn't give Ava too many options. Ava lifted the glass and flipped over the coaster. Mark Hannover. Retired. Hails from Brooklyn. Likes it ROUGH. Really, Maggie? Come on. Ava sat in her section every time and ordered a minimum of five drinks, the least the girl could do was to get better stats. Maggie winked and then jerked her head in the direction of Mark Hannover. She practically stuck out a giant red arrow pointing at his big bald head. Ava had to give it to her though. Maggie was definitely enthusiastic about her role. Hannover's eyes scanned the room lazily. He sipped, swirled, and sipped again at his own leisurely pace. If his vibe gave anything away, this was a man who didn't mind waiting in line. He could pull out a newspaper, shoot the breeze with the stranger next to him, and enjoy fine wine fermented for over a century. Hannover stroked at the companion he'd brought along. He twisted her curls in his finger and drew a long line from the tip of her ear down to the swell of her cleavage. She shivered in response. Ava didn't blame her. If the girl had any sense it would be to go back to her job at Dairy Queen and marry her high school sweet heart. Somehow, Hannover had intrigued her enough to follow him to this seedy night club. Maggie hadn't mentioned anything about the girl, which meant she was either an Out of Towner or some Russian mail-order bride. Ava chose the former. Hannover didn't scream illegal immigration. Ava slipped Maggie a fifty and stood up to make her first move. Simply, she would swish her hips, flutter her big brown doe eyes his way, and make sure that it was plain and obvious that she was up for whatever he could throw at her. Little Miss Dairy Queen would retract her former agreement to stick with him and bolt as fast as her payless kitten heels could go without snapping in half. It really was a matter of distance. As the proximity increased, the easier it was to get into their heads. From her nest across the room, Ava could only pick up a buzz from Hannover. Just a slight rumbling of misdeeds he'd done in the past. If she could see auras his would definitely be black. Telepath wasn't really the best way to describe her. She rarely heard thoughts. Thoughts went in and out quickly. She saw the imprints of a life. If a girl daydreamed constantly about meeting a singer or if a man held onto the last moments with a dying wife. She could also see the bad things in people. Their sins they savored and seldom regretted. To put it plainly, she knew if one had been bad or good. Santa Clause had more in common with her. But it would be impractical to have all those adorable elves. Ava worked alone unless she counted Maggie as an elf. A leather clad overzealous elf. Like fucking clockwork. The finger dipping deep into the trembling V-neck of the girl paused as Ava wandered past. Hannover's lips tightened and pursed, burning up the previous schedule he'd planned out for his curly headed partner. She didn't seem to mind the change in focus. In fact, her heart started beating again. Ava dropped her fingers to the couple's table and bent down low so that he could see the swell of her breasts were no longer a tease but tangible and within reach. His date was silent. She bit her glossy covered lips, saying "Thank You" with her soft blue eyes. "Are you a dreamer?" Ava asked plunging her eyes low. Her fat red lips plumped out to linger on the word dreamer. "Yes," Hannover replied and slid a deliberate palm across her cheek to her hand. He didn't bring her hand to meet his lips; he brought his lips to her hand. "This is the proper way to kiss a lady." Ava faked a coy smile. Touching was not preferred. She had gotten a taste of some sour images in his head. Maggie was right, he liked it rough. She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and drew him up from the table. Dairy Queen didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't want to interrupt her chance to escape. He'd forgotten about his obedient pet and was ready to tame another. Ava smiled as she guided Hannover away from the crowd and toward the entrance of the side room. To the naked eye it was a wall just as stable and studded as any other wall. But the owner of the establishment thought to give his club a bit of mystery. Ava pressed gently at the unlocking mechanism and the wall slid apart. Hannover grinned like a boy on Christmas Day. The two of them moved in sync. His hands went straight to the nape of her neck, a little more forcefully than she was comfortable with. Ava pressed herself against his chest, thanking all of the above gods that his shirt was still on. The scent of tobacco and whiskey rushed through the room and Ava caught his dark stare with hers. She knew exactly what he wanted and she was going to comply. ******** "Please!" she begged. The girl was so tiny. Did they get tinier every year? Maybe it was in the water? Damnit, she was crying again. "Please!" she screamed this time. Ruke drew his hand up to her face. It was so angelic, so pretty, shame she wasn't the one he was looking for. The features were all there. She had the brown eyes, the auburn hair. She was even in the right age at eighteen; the little brat was a perfect replica. His fingers slid down to her jaw line snapping it up to turn her tear soaked eyes to face his blank pitiless stare. "Didn't your mother ever tell you to stay away from guys like Jamie; they'll only get you in trouble." Ruke slapped her face away and wrenched her petite frame around. The girl shrieked and trembled violently as he shredded the dress covering him from devouring her. With his boot he spread her legs wide while she bucked back in protest. Well if that didn't get him hard. His hand grabbed a fistful of her silky soft curls and whipped her head back to meet his glare. "I wanna go home. . .PLEASE!" Not an option. The door to her supple virginity was wide open. Ruke sunk himself deep within her tight sheath. His cock found a rhythm and the girl fell forward onto her arms and held on for dear life as he plowed into her over and over. She was exquisitely sweet. Just as delightful as he imagined her to be, but she wasn't the one he wanted. If he hadn't intervened into her precious suburban life, she might have fornicated with her pathetic deadbeat boyfriend, spawned a few of his bastard children, gotten a fat ass, scrapbooked on the weekend and died from diabetes. At least with Ruke she'd be a pretty face on the five-o'clock news. She'd be remembered forever as the cute high school prom queen who fell in with a dangerous crowd. Ruke pulled out, flipped her over and slammed that delicate mini body of hers on the steel table. The girl gathered any oxygen she could, heaving pink penny nipples up and down. Her neck was still purple and red from their previous engagement. His hands just needed a second go at it. "Tell me where she is? Tell me you're lying and that you really are her!" Ruke demanded digging his fingernails deeper into her pale skin. The result was an enchanting amount of blood that leaked out. "I. . ., please I don't know. I'm not her. I'm not. . .," the girl blubbered. Ruke released his grip on her neck. He needed to finish and it wasn't going to happen with her on her back. She'd need to be on her knees. Another yank of her tresses and she was on the ground, tears streaking her mascara and streaming across her freckles. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know we were in your territory. Jamie made me. I won't tell anyone. I won't." She shook her head as to emphasize her trustworthiness. Ruke lifted her chin. Another crystal tear glistened in the light and followed the trail down to the floor. "Finish me," he said gently at first. She didn't seem to understand. Her hands reached up to the table top as if she were going to stand up. Ruke knocked them away and the girl landed back on all fours. As if the blunt head of his cock wasn't enough of a clue, he rammed it inside of her mouth, brushing past her perfect square teeth and groaning in exhilaration. She got the picture. The girl began fucking his cock with her mouth closing her eyes and waiting for the inevitable. Ruke jammed deep, expelling himself and practically choking the girl. She sat back onto her heels grabbing his hips for counterweight. No can do, honey. He shoved her away, leaving the bitch in a sobbing pile on the floor. What a mess. Tucking himself in, he passed his comrade Crane and exchanged nods. "When you're done, get rid of her." His boy grinned while he mentally cracked his knuckles. Dark Awakening Ch. 02 Please feel free to leave comments or vote. Thanks, love Lilla Hannover had been burning a hole staring at her thighs now for the past five minutes. Ava had slinked away taking a seat on a chair in the far corner. Watching Hannover's blood pressure increase with each heart beat. "Take off the dress." So demanding. Like there was a chance in hell she'd give him anything else. Oh yeah, he didn't know that. "You should relax. You don't look so good." Yeah. He looked like he'd just eaten the mystery meat from Jorge's cart. Hannover's eyes rolled back into his head, splitting him from the here and now and her version of reality. It wouldn't be so bad, really. He would just need to breathe. They were so up-tight now in days. Hannover was imagining her as he imagined all of his darling gussies, with bruises. They would beg and plead for him to stop, but only until he'd gotten his fill. Hannover's favorite weapon of choice was his belt. It had so many options. Proximity had everything to do with it. Hannover was in her maze now. He was envisioning taking his belt, slipping it off of his waist band, making sure she was facing the opposite direction. He would kiss her neck, comfort her bare arms with his warm hands, as she would sway against him, he would strike. Her scream would excite him, knowing that it was for no one and that it would only last a second or two before the belt could cut her off. Hannover liked this moment the most. He could gently tug on the leather, watching her squirm beneath him. Her legs could kick, a heel would fly off and her dress would be torn in the process exposing the supple softness of her breasts. The nipples would get hard from the blast of cold, he'd smile. Ava watched Hannover slip away. His eyes tightly shut, his body vibrating like a dog dreaming. Now she could move. Ava slipped off her heels and crawled as close to his trousers as she could stand. Her nimble fingers sliced and diced through the contents of his wallet, his credit cards, his cash. She didn't like to stay to long in their heads. It got messier as they got closer to finishing. Hannover flinched, his body rocked over onto his back and Ava's heart jumped in her throat. For as long as she'd been doing this, that always scared the shit out of her. It took another minute or two to remove his memory of her and involved more touching. Ava grabbed his face with both hands, willing his eyes to peel open, glazed over, but fully operational. Hannover was in the middle of treating her like a piñata. In his mind, her features became less defined. He would remember a woman with silky pouty lips. He would remember how much fun he'd had with her, but the frame of her face would always be blurry, the color of her eyes was debatable, and what was that perfume she wore? Okay, let's go. Ava hopped up, not waiting another second to get the hell out of Dodge. Hannover would wake up, barely remembering his own birthday, let alone a pretty girl with plump lips. She tapped the wall, stepped over Rip Van Winkle, and waltzed out, five thousand dollars heavier. ******** "I'd do her." Dem would do her on a plane, on a train, on a bus in Spain. There was no limit to what Dem would do or who he would do it with. Rowe chugged the rest of his beer and kicked Goofus in the shin. Dem didn't take notice, probably because he was logged on to find his next cock warmer. The cherry pop tart he was referring to winked back at their table. It looked like her first time away from home. Welcome to the big city, honey. Meet Dem. Dem blew a kiss in her direction and she giggled. They always giggle for Dem. He was a fucking giggle making factory. "Are you going to eye fuck her all night? I've got places I'd rather than be then watching you two take each other's clothes off from thirty feet away." Rowe grunted staring down at his empty glass and wondering if the waitress was coming back or if he'd have to keep grabbing at an empty glass all night. Dem motioned for the waitress and Barbie came prancing back. A shot of Jack for Dem, a pitcher of Sangria for the table of house wives behind them and nothing for Rowe. C'est la vie. "If I'm not back in ten minutes, I'm having a good fucking time so don't ruin it." Dem stood up, letting his full height take effect on the room. He had gotten his mug from his father, another rascal of sorts, and his cocky demeanor from every damn girl in the tri-county area swooning at his footsteps. It would take more than a football to the nose to break this guy's libido. He 'd probably have the entire club donating ice. "If you're not back in ten minutes, you're buying." Rowe sneered, grabbing a bottle neck from a nearby waitress's tray who wasn't paying attention. Dem threw up a poster boy smile, and sauntered over to Cherry. "Oh, you're so strong and handsome." Rowe imagined her saying. "I'll let you do me six ways till Sunday if you'd like." That was enough of that. Rowe tipped his hat to their waitress who had taken notice of Dem's departure and had resorted to espionage. Dem was a big boy, he could handle his own way home. Rowe left as unnoticed as he had arrived. The night was still young, maybe he could get some work done. Stepping out into the sultry night air, he'd forgotten how much he hated summer. His leather jacket weighted heavier, the streets were loitered with horny Dicks and Janes running, jumping, and getting into each other's pants. Brats. Rowe adjusted his ball cap and slipped away into an alley. The fastest way to travel, and easier to disappear. The alleys around here rarely smelled like roses. They reeked of Yumo's day old noodle surprise and piss. Not the best combination, but better than hormones and Cherry Pop Tart's perfume. This particular gangway divided Renegade and Nicko's, a Greek owned night club known better for its prostitution than it's gyros. Nicko's had the whole she-bang including secret rooms where customers could get their fix on without fear of the NYPD busting in. Rowe liked to think of it as his second home. Digging through his jacket looking for a goddamn smoke and something other to think about then hookers and Dem's cherry popping, Rowe noticed the girl slipping through the steel door leading out of Nicko's club. Uh oh, another escape artist. "You going somewhere?" he asked, watching her struggling to balance and put her elaborate Jimmy Choo's back on. She wasn't his type. His type came with leather and were usually blindfolded. "What the hell do you care? Are you some sort of sentry?" She slid in and grimaced and what had to be the most painful looking stiletto he'd ever seen. Why women put up with that shit was beyond him, but it sure did make her ass look good. Rowe took a drag and pointed at her with his cigarette, "Just an observer. Cute girls like you, with shoes like that don't leave through that door unless they're running away." She plastered a big fake smile, tiny square teeth and no bubblegum. Her eyes drifted to the exit path. She'd have to pass Rowe if she wanted to get by. "I'm not what you think," she strolled up more or less in tune with the heels now that she had them on both feet. "I'm not running away either." Yeah right. The closer she came the easier it was to make out her features. Gorgeous brown puppy dog eyes, button nose, freckles. . ., everywhere, pouty lips, and luscious auburn hair. Gotta love them red heads. "You know how to keep mum, Rowe?" she asked staying her distance but close enough to pick up her fabulous aroma. It wasn't a perfume. It was. . ., different. "I hear it's the word." Rowe took another drag taking his eyes off of her and back to the street to watch a shrieking gaggle of girls. When he turned back she'd vanished. She'd known his name. Curiouser and curiouser. ********** "You look like a model." If he had a penny for every time a toasted sorority girl said that, he'd have five cents. She tipped forward, trying to lift up onto her tippy toes to kiss him and instead falling into him, spilling her drink. "Oh my gosh, I am soooooo wast-ed." Well at least one of them was. Demetrio put the spaghetti strap that had slid off back into place. Her skin was soft, supple, and baby smooth. Must be the farm girl in her. Girls from these parts were hard on the outside. Her fingers were dancing around the button on his pants. Slipping one little pinkie in then out, mocking exactly what he wanted to do to her. Dem closed his eyes, letting the sensual touching do its magic. The girl was dangling herself from a string and he'd be dead or close to it if he didn't take her. They streamlined through the crowd and into a remote bathroom. Magazine photographs were decoupaged onto the wall, graffiti and call-me numbers scattered throughout. His little minx was dropping either sides of her tank top, pouting pretty strawberry flavored lips and letting her body undulate to the club's overhead beat. This would only take a second. "I have a condom," she purred drifting her delightful little fingers into her denim pocket and pulling out a Trojan. He wouldn't need it. She wasn't ovulating and he didn't carry diseases. Now how to convey that without looking cocky. Perhaps the neck, no her tits. Dem rushed her, planting her into the wall and massaged one rock hard nub between his fingers. He let his lips trail from the base of her ear to the sweet crevice at her collar bone. She was writhing in three seconds flat. He was making good time. Standing and fucking required a shit load of strength on his part, and a whole lot of work on her part. She didn't look the type to just get up and go. Her instructions read "batteries required." The sink jutted out just enough to place her tiny tight ass on the edge. The second her toes left the ground she started cackling, thrashing her head back, nipping at his neck, slipping deeper down the blood alcohol rabbit hole. A sane man would step back, assess the situation and disengage. Fuck it. He hiked up her denim skirt, ripped apart some Hello Kitty panties, and crammed his family assets into her with one sweep. Her giggling ended there. She flipped back on with a whip of her head, and wrapped her legs around him. Well what do you know, she has a brain. "Call me," she said tugging on his button down and blowing him a kiss. She'd written her number on the back of his arm, while they were fucking. Fantastic, she was a nice place to visit. Like fuck he'd live there. Demetrio watched her sashay out of the bathroom to join the gossip girls at the far end of the bar. Tucking himself back in and sweeping his hair back in the mirror, Rowe's grim face was the last thing he needed to see. One day he'd like to see a smile on his puss, one day. And in one sentence he ruined a perfectly good night, "We have a problem." Dark Awakening Ch. 03 Please feel free to leave feedback and vote! I appreciate every voice, and would like to improve too! Thank you, L Chapter 3 Patrick Keller's iphone chirped. He felt the palm sized rectangle through his pants pocket and decided against answering the text. It was from Lana. She had mentioned coming over to deposit some cash into her special fund. She was probably pulling up to her crappy apartment, sparkles in her gorgeous mahogany colored eyes and skipping to the beat of a dance tune playing in her head. That damn girl was always happy. Too happy, he thought as he heard another chirp and shoved his right hand into his pocket and pulled out the mini computer that conveniently functioned as a phone. I did it, the text read. Great. Fantastic. Lana had even put one of those winking smiley faces in the text, exemplifying her joy. Patrick locked the phone and put it back into his pocket. He didn't feel the need to reply. She'd be content with or without his approval. "The quarterly reports are on your desk and a Mr. Ruke called earlier," the new intern's candy sweet voice startled him. It was fine since he didn't need to spend another second thinking about his not so simple relationship with Lana. "Get my priorities straight," Patrick straightened and looked the poor twenty something in the eyes. She flinched. Interns were so fragile in the first couple of weeks that a fire alarm drill could start a seizure. Her name was something trendy like Madison or Kenzy, something to that effect. "I'm s-sorry," she stuttered and he could have sworn she was pausing to curtsy and then a cold hard stare from him brought her ass back to the twenty-first century. She was run of the mill pretty, the kind of girl that came a dime a dozen with the flat ironed shoulder length blond hair, raccoon eye makeup, tight ass in her pencil skirt. Her blouse unbuttoned to the cusp of her perfect ten breasts. She was a walking talking sex drive and he wouldn't be surprised if one of his unmarried, or even married, bankers hadn't tapped her yet. Patrick had different tastes though. His taste craved freckles and chestnut auburn curls. "Ruke is my number one concern. Always. So when he calls, you let me know," Patrick waved the intern off and went back to his phone. Let's meet later, he texted back and he even added one of those smiley faces. ******* "A girl?" Did he stutter? Rowe recalled how many times Dem had, quote, unquote, "helped him out." He remembered that there was a soul behind those perfect teal eyes that didn't want to spend an entire life between a woman's legs. Rowe was just hard pressed to find it. It was almost twenty-four hours ago since he'd seen the broad. Dem had shoved him off after his nightly encounter with Cherry last night. Turns out Dem was closed for business after his nightcap. "Yeah, a fucking kid. She was slipping out of Nicko's when I saw her. Just waltzing along like it was perfectly normal to be there. She knew my name." And whole lot else if she'd gotten that much out of his head. "A kid, like-" "Young, like eighteen, twenty, I'm not good with ages. They all look the same until they start to get fat and drive kids around for soccer games," Rowe explained, knowing that most of this was going through one ear and out the other. "You've never seen her before? Was she hot?" Dem kept prodding but Rowe had given up all of his chips. There wasn't much else to be said. No, he'd never seen her before but it wasn't like he took inventory on all the human girls with dark hair and a smart mouth. He shook his head. Dem scratched his. Must be a nice break for his balls. "I wouldn't get too excited. Maybe she'd heard about me through one of my friends," Rowe was trying to shrug this off in front of Dem. By friends he was of course referring to the staff that Nicko's employed. A staff that could cater to an appetite that Rowe had. It's just that, well, the girl didn't fit the bill. She was too pretty. "When's the last time you saw one of your friends?" Dem asked. Wink, wink, nod, nod. Rowe growled, "Recently." "Fuck, Rowe. You might need another check up." Dem reached out to playfully punch his shoulder. Rowe frowned harder. If that was even possible. "She's got an odor. She smells like. . .like a fresh breeze," Like the country just stuffed itself up his nose. Not a perfume, not a stench, she smelled wonderful. "Not your type? Na, you like the ones who smell like liquor and nicotine," Dem was adding to his permanent record. Rowe was beginning to question why Dem had even ended up in his life. Oh yeah, he saved his ass. Thirty years ago to the month. Well wasn't that precious; it was their anniversary. Dem wasn't your typical knight in shining armor. In fact, he'd been recruited just as Rowe had into his brother's army. The bastard had a manipulative quality justified with power. Rowe's brother wanted revenge for what had befallen him and Demetrio fell into the trap. What Rowe hadn't counted on was Dem's ability to function like the Hulk under pressure. Good thing too because his brother would have caught up with them if it wasn't for what Dem had under the hood. It was a wonder the walking hard-on his friend was had any calm to his storm, but when he harnessed his horse power, run. ******* Sarah. Just Sarah. No last name. Well wasn't that trendy. Just Sarah sipped her ruffie-tini like a champ. She had some experience in these things; obviously, it was on her business card. Ruke imagined running his fingers through her hair. He imagined tilting her head back slightly to expose that delicate flesh covering her carotid artery. If the vampires had anything in common with him; it was their choice of blood veins to puncture. Sarah came from good Hungarian stock. Her build was dainty but those piercing diamond blue was what flicked his Bic. Blonde hair, this one. Thin, but silky smooth. She'd cropped it short, just above her chin like that Spice Girl everyone thought had talent. His muse wouldn't have short hair. No hers would longer, fuller, easier to tug on. She was like a poor man's Jenna Jamison, plastic fantastic and eye shadow mod. Ruke let the perfume of the prostitute fill his lungs. It was flowery with a dash of skank. Sarah hadn't come cheap, but she wasn't exactly the Prada of street whores. What she was good for was information. Information and entertainment. Questions required warming up, and what better to do that then some drug reinforcement. "Do you like classical music, Sarah?" Ruke asked passing behind her to take another whiff of what he already knew was lurking beneath her simple surface. She was wearing a Hepburn black dress, no panty hose, and strappy black stilettos. The pricier gals would jot down what they wore as if taking notes on what men enjoyed or disliked. If a dress got a repeat customer, then similar items would be worn to keep the re-runs going. Ruke, however, liked variety. He liked to see them preppy, goth, or better yet nude. Sarah wasn't missing the mark with her LBD, but she was taking up his time crossing and uncrossing her legs to try and get a reaction. Baby, you don't have to do that to get what's coming next. Sarah smirked. She relaxed her shoulders and leaned forward, dropping his gaze to the perfect tens money could buy beneath the soft fabric of her low cut dress. Ruke imagined her to have merlot nipples, a pink rosé when not stimulated. Sarah's body was starting to bloom. Her legs uncrossed, her dress slid another two inches up her tanned and toned legs. Slowly but surely the drug was having its effect on her and Ruke would enjoy the next couple of hours; but before the fun got started he just wanted a few questions answered. "I like a lot of things. What do you like?" Her voice was low and smooth. She wasn't the high pitched valley girl like last time. She knew how to play her cards. She was a girlfriend for hire. Sarah was trained to stroke your ego, listen to your mundane day, and even do your laundry in nothing but six inch heels. Her tits came pointed at the ceiling and her cunt came waxed, she was more than just a three-hundred dollar fuck, she'd iron your shirts after it was over. "I like young girls, like you. I like to touch them, like to feel them. They're firm and supple at the same time. If I could, before we get started, Sarah, I need to ask you a few questions." Ruke let his fingers graze the tops of her shoulders. He let them dance along her clavicle, bringing her skin to shivers. The zipper to her dress was poking out from the fold of her dress seam. Ruke quietly without disturbing her, unzipped. The shoulder straps loosened, exposing more naked chest and goosebumps. Sarah's shoulders began melting from his mini massage. Her dress had drooped to the tips of her elbows. Her breasts, in all their plump and plastic glory pressed out begging to be touched and fondled; definitely merlot nipples that could carve ice and a thumb print of an areola. "Go ahead," she purred allowing him to dig deeper into her peaches and cream skin. Her hair swayed gently across his knuckles and Ruke felt a growling hunger in the pit of his gut. "I have a friend who may have slipped into the wonderful world of escorting. Would you happen to know anything about how I could find her? Maybe you know someone who would deal with a lot of the girls. I would love to see her again." Ruke blew a warm breath down her neck. Sarah quivered in response tilting that sweet head to the side for more, please. "She might use Patrick Keller. He's a great businessman and he keeps our funds out of feds hands." Well, well, turns out Pat has his slimy fingers in a lot of cookie jars. What an excellent development. Sarah's head lopped directly between his bear claws. Her eyes had a nice sheen of frosting over them. Marvelous. For her help, she wouldn't feel a thing. Ruke stood her up, shucking off the rest of her dress watching it pool around her feet and feeling a surge of power. She was naked and helpless before him, exactly how he would have his muse. He was clothed, showing only his arms covered in indiscernible tattoos the humans wouldn't comprehend. His muscle shirt may as well have been black paint as it showed off every tight fraction of dominance he was going to give her. The sparkle had left his eyes as his natural cologne permeated through the room. Suddenly Sarah was more aware of her surroundings. Her lips started to tremble; feeling the rough hands shove her down to her knees. Sarah landed with a thud, grasping onto his pant legs fearing she would tip over. An angelic face glanced up to his, soft blue eyes ruined with black eye liner and thick mascara. Her body in an all out fight mode, Sarah scrambled up to only get shoved back down. Her tits jiggled appropriately for being as silicone enhanced as they were. Ruke wanted to bite a nipple so hard it was beginning to show through his pants. He liked a little cat and mouse too, but Sarah wasn't on his diet. Shame too, Ruke hated wasting food. ********* One thought milled around Patrick's head. Fuck Fuckity Fuck Fuck. His passive aggressive relationship with Lana was wearing him thin. She was going to be coming over tonight to celebrate her mind control or whatever the fuck it was that she did. And what would he be doing? Probably pining for her to shut up and suck his cock. That wouldn't happen. She was too timid to do something that risqué for him. She'd want the romance and the satisfaction that she had won his heart before any of the good stuff happened. Well if that didn't make him a son of a bitch. He wanted to handle more than just the questionable funding she brought to his bank. Her source of income came in the form of untraceable cash. Not unseen before for a teenager, they usually break bank in babysitting for the upper crust house wives on Long Island. But Lana never had a deposit less than two thousand. His mind drifted back to the damn night that he'd run into her. She was a little minx three years ago, and most definitely statutory. At sixteen, Lana had charmed her tight ass into a night club and what do you know, she was the hottest piece of ass the boys had seen or would ever lay their eyes on, and she wasn't even a professional. For Patrick, the most appealing feature about her were her luscious rose red lips, he could imagine her full lips taking him to the moon and back if she would only drop the good girl attitude. Her freckles made it the worst. This was the issue though wasn't it? She was a wholesome, take home to your mother and feed her apple pie, and he was a fast and loose Joe. The last woman he'd had between his sheets had been . . . who? It took a minute to recover this information from his vault of insignificant information. Ah! It was four interns ago, Celeste Carter. God, they all came with stripper fucking names didn't they, Celeste, Veronica, and Sasha replaced the simple Mary, Ellen, and Josephine. Patrick poured himself some Glenlevit and thought about the amount and the blue balls night he had ahead of him, so he poured himself some more. His liquor cabinet had a mirror behind the bottles of Glenlevit and Absolut. Staring back at him was the reflection the son of a bitch he'd become. With his mother's navy blue peepers and flawlessly smooth skin he'd always been the hunk at any stage in life. He never had an awkward phase and any woman between the ages of fifteen and fifty had the hots for him with just a wink. Even now in his mid thirties he was still the tall dark and handsome devil that yearned to scratch an itch deeper than his skin. He wanted her, and he knew she wasn't going to be giving in tonight or any night that he brought her up to his flat. Speak of the devil, the shave and a hair cut knock that interrupted his thoughts could only be the one and only. Patrick straightened, checked his appearance again and decided that maybe a little less cologne should have been worn, oh well. He downed the rest of his scotch on the rocks and opened his front door to the menacing mother fucker, Ruke. The bastard looked like he was having a bad day, brilliant, and to think, Patrick was about to have a better one. Ruke stared Patrick down with those god awful black as coal eyes and it was all Patrick could do to not break. Ruke was a monster for his race, something to be feared as a human, let alone as a specimen of whatever the fuck planet he came from. "Not the date you were expecting?" Ruke asked glancing a once over on Patrick's attire. If the Armani cologne he wore didn't give it away, the distressed jeans and button down were a dead give away. Christ, he probably looked like a sixteen year old and smelled like one too. "I thought our business transactions were finished for the day. Did you need anything else?" Patrick asked adjusting his stature to a more rigid one. He spread his body wide in the door way, there was no way Ruke was coming in. Ruke probably had a good thirty or forty pounds on him, and another couple of inches to his height, the guy was built like John Cena, but that wasn't getting him any closer to Patrick's living room. "Relax, Pat." Patrick winced, he hated his name shortened and the only person he allowed to do that was Lana. Ruke smiled as if knowing he'd hit a sore spot, and continued, "I'm here for something completely different. You can find somebody I'm looking for, and I need you to convince her to help me out." Ruke eyeballed Patrick's bar, then back to Patrick, then back to the bar. "Are you gonna invite me in or are you gonna keep me out here?" "Her?" Patrick stepped aside. His walls broken, Ruke had total control. Mr. Social headed straight for the bar, poured himself a glass of Grey Goose and propped himself against the kitchen counter. "A muse. You look like you're ready to entertain your own muse. Your body language is screaming it not to mention, I can fucking read your mind, see your past . . . . and your death," Ruke tapped his head as to emphasize the stretch of his ability, "So before you try to lie to me and claim you have no idea what I'm talking about, let's lay some things on the table," Patrick nodded. Any dignity or self restraint was thrown out his twentieth story window. "The one I'm looking for, she is not one of my kind. She is human, sort of, and she is the link between me and you, so if you are finished pissing your pants, I want you to find her and then I want you to keep her calm. When the time is right, I will ask you for her. You'll know her when you see her. She's is young, probably late teens early twenties. Redish brown hair upstairs and down. I doubt she's been around for this long without a criminal record. See what you can pull up." A switch flicked on in his head. Was Ruke talking about Lana? He took another pull of vodka and set the glass to a slam on the table. Patrick had to take a seat to settle his thoughts. Ruke wanted Lana. How the hell was he supposed to convince Lana that a sick son-of-a-bitch wanted to take her for experiments or some shit. That was gonna go real well. "It will take me some time," Patrick figured aloud. Ruke was headed for the door. Patrick stayed put, assembling the remnants of ideas he had as to how this was going against his principles. What principles. "She is not yours," Ruke said as he exited into the hall, "She represents more than that." The door gently closed, and Patrick could hear the inside lock sliding into place on its own. It was beyond creepy how they could do that. Freaky. Lana was more than his. Patrick repeated this thought over and over in his head. No, she was more than anything he'd ever had. The next sound he heard was the iphone chirping. Patrick checked the text. On my way now, be there in 10. Patrick smiled. His eyes closed, and his heart beat. His feelings for Lana were the only thing between him and a happy non thug life, and if Ruke wanted Lana, then he could have her. She was just a girl right? C u soon! He texted back. He needed more scotch. He was a hair more than tipsy when Lana arrived. She was freshly dolled up with a bottle of Korbel in her hand and a shimmer in her eyes he wasn't going to ignore. If Ruke wanted her, Patrick was going to have her first. "Hello friend," Lana chimed. At this point in his stupor, Patrick could practically see the bubbles floating out of her ears and stars floating around her head. Little baby cherubs were singing love songs and a rainbow may or may not have appeared behind her. "I'm happy to see you," Patrick replied, making enough room for her to squeeze by him to get into the apartment. Lana took the hint and decided to give him the back end rather than the front as she passed by. No doubt, thought Patrick, she could tell he had a banana in his pocket. "You are drunk." She said as she placed the bottle on the black granite counter top. Patrick had chosen the black because it went well against the glass cabinets and stainless steel appliances. Lana, he thought would also look good against the black granite counter top. "Not quite." ******* "So. . . . I think I have an idea what you want to do," Ava struggled to find a place to put her eyes. If she looked into his eyes she would start stuttering, if she looked at his mouth, she'd want to kiss it, if she looked at his hips, well, she wasn't going to do that. Pat's mind was going three thousand miles a minute. He was more than hot and bothered, she could plug him into a socket and he'd light up like a Christmas tree he was so turned on. This was a change in demeanor. Usually Pat was collected, uninterested, and there was something different about tonight. Someone had been here. Ava stretched out her limits and fumbled around in Pat's head. He didn't seem to mind either, as he kept creeping closer as if to give her better reception. Ava stared back at the man she'd come to have a school girl crush on. His body was in pristine shape due to his morning jogs and weight set, he'd grown out his five o'clock shadow to perfection, and his mouth was tight as if he was concentrating on the subject matter at hand. Dark Awakening Ch. 03 "Lana, I want you," it was almost a whisper. Ava kept searching. A person, definitely a person had been here. Pat approached and placed his hands around her face, forcing her eyes to meet his. His navy blue eyes connected to her and for a minute or two they were breathing in the same rhythm. Ava caught herself. She wasn't rummaging through his signals anymore, and for this brief moment in time, she was going to let bygones be bygones. "Pat," His name brought him to attention as he leaned in to finish what he started. Ava gently closed her eyes and allowed his lips to press against hers. If only a kiss were a kiss. Pat was stroking her neck and the small of her back at the same time. She could feel her knees knocking beneath her. Then her answer stared her straight in the face, "Pat!" He stiffened. His body ready, Ava pried herself from his lips to look him into his closed eyelids. She found her strength and lifted her hand to his face stroking his jaw line. Pat opened his eyes. "Lana, I need you," Pat fumbled with his hands and ended up pinning Ava between the counter and himself. No, Pat, why did it have to be you? Ava locked eyes and saw the glimmer of good in him disappear. His intentions were screaming at her loud and clear. Ava grabbed onto one thought in particular. Pat's hands were fumbling with the edge of her skirt, sliding up and down her thighs, latching onto the band of her panties. Ava skipped a few minutes into his fantasy and saw herself flat on her back on the counter, spread open for Pat to take exactly what he wanted from her. The main upfront thought milling around his head was clear as crystal Pepsi, screw her and hand her over. Pat wanted it backwards and forwards, sideways and upside down if he could manage. He had a Dr. Seuss approach to dirty positions and Ava was expected to check them all off of his list. Her heart skipped a few beats as she went to work. It had to be this way for them. He'd made his choice. Ava began to manipulate his mind, slow and steady does it. With her will she trimmed the light string connecting Pat's fantasies with reality. He was in La-La land until whatever he had planned finished up and he would wake up cold and lonely on his kitchen floor. Pat's erection was pressing hard into her thigh and trying to find its way in between her legs. She side stepped and watched him fall the two feet into the granite and then onto the tile floor. She placed a hand on his forehead and put him into a deep sleep. Hopefully, she thought, he'd wake up without remembering a thing. Looking around, Ava contemplated moving Pat. Maybe to the couch, maybe to the bedroom? She took a glance back at him on the slate tiled floor. He had himself flat on his back, spread eagle and boner intact. Looked comfortable enough. Pat's head was too jumbled to try and sort through right now, but from what she'd gathered before, she knew someone had come to Pat asking about her. She also knew Pat wasn't on her side any more. This was getting complicated. Ava weighed out her options. They included a whole lot of half-assed attempts at leaving the country or burning any proof of her existence for the past ten years. She'd done the latter plenty of times, and the former only twice. Patrick knew her as Lana Berkley, so goodbye Lana. Problem was Lana and Ava had the same address. If Pat spilled the beans, then her place was compromised. Stupid, stupid, stupid man. ***** Demetrio had served thousands of beautiful luscious women. He'd been inside princesses, paupers, younger and older, chubby and tight. Their curves, soft supple skin, the way they walked with confidence, shyness, or with a dash of mischief was everything he loved and more. He wanted to take his time enjoying each smooth silky spot of skin to kiss. His body ached holding off until the last moment when he would surrender inside of her. This one was different. She wasn't unlike ones he'd had before, just simply different. Her legs straddled his hips, giving him a glorious view of her wet warmth he wanted to pierce. She wasn't bashful but playful; taking her time she gently scraped a nail against the flesh on his abdomen causing an involuntary flex of his muscles. Her body was sunkissed, toned, and wanton. Her lips parted slightly as he found a place for his two hunting hands. On her bottom, he gingerly massaged her physique, urging her to rock onto his oh-so-randy little friend. Their breath caught the same rhythm as she caught the pace he was giving her. Demetrio stared at her breasts, so delicious and plump. Each nipple encouraged a kiss from his lips. Her body quivered from the new attention is was being given. She threw her head up slightly to arch her back in ecstasy. Dem held her to his mouth, supporting her with a hand to her lower back, his other twirling around the soft waves of her auburn hair. Delightfully painful nails scored his shoulders, causing him to become harder than he'd even been before, ready to part her and take her over to his side of the rainbow. The girl pushed him down onto his back, stood up his eager man, and drew him up and down her sheath. The sleek friction was going to make him blind with desire to puncture through. She propped herself onto her knees and leaned forward, grazing his chest with her hard nipples. Dem felt his cock jump on his stomach as if begging for attention again. Her rose red lips hovered a millimeter above his. The fragrance was natural, not a perfume, but like a breath of fresh air to clear a foggy head. Lips so soft and in need of mauling. Dem leaned forward to invade her with his tongue, but she slipped away, a coy glance was what he would get instead. Dem, growing slightly impatient with the toying, gripped her by the curves in her waist and tugged her close. He would have her, no more teasing. "What is your name, muse?" he whispered into an ear. "Ava," she answered back, running a hand through his thick dark hair. Her body became white as a cloud, sunlight streamed through her hair. Then, Ava disappeared as mysteriously as she'd appeared. Demetrio woke up twisted in his sheet; head hanging off the side of his bed, reaching for the floor with his lips. What a mind fuck. Literally. Ava, huh? Even his dreams were teasing him.