As John Mellencamp sang about how it hurt so good on the radio, the man, whose grayish blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark shades, attentively listened. The whole time that the radio blared out from his speakers, he gently tapped his slender masculine fingers against the steering wheel and sung softly along with the music. Lightly pressing down on the gas, he felt the car rev up as he brought his speed way above the posted speed limit. His thoughts were far from that of being pulled over or even getting a ticket. He had never had a speeding ticket. For he'd always, charismatically, talked his way out of one. Or used those powers, which he so despised, in to changing the cop's mind over even pulling him over.
Turning the music up, so that the speakers were, now, vibrating, he sped past another car, that was going too slow for his taste. As the music hit it's climax, he didn't even care that he had sped past a cop
—that was parked a few feet off the road. Possibly the cop wasn't paying attention or he'd gotten so good at creating a shadow around, not just himself, but the car, that the cop hadn't even seen him.
Whatever the reason, he just kept speeding down the road and listening to good music on the radio.
He had a long drive ahead of him, and he was too tired to care about the consequences of his
actions. He needed a long rest, but, right at that moment, he was too pressed for time to know when an appropriate moment would arise for him.
Over the years of being alive, he had paid little to no attention to anyone – enjoying the simple life of a recluse. Occasionally, if he was overwhelmed with loneliness, he took notice to an attractively delicious woman. Yet, once he had his fill of pleasure, he took off. He did try, though, not to enjoy the opposite sex regularly. For it was soon after that brief enjoyment, when morning made it's abrupt presence known, that the harsh reality of his existence reared it's ugly head – in truth, it was that reality, that had him unable to bear the idea of subjecting a woman to his life.
He so hated hurting beautiful butterflies. And possibly that was why he preferred contacting an escort service than hooking up with a poor innocent woman, who was searching for her perfect match –
for he was far from that. With a paid escort, there was no false commitments or empty promises.
Turning the music up, so to drown out his wandering thoughts, he tried halting the course of his persisted nagging thoughts. As it was, he thought too much. Yet, what was he suppose to do? He had no real life or, worse yet, he had too long of one. The desire to die was in him, but there was too much for him to do. Besides that, there was too many pleasures—like the occasional, pleasurable, feel of a woman's lips against his naked flesh – that had him not really wanting to end it all.
As it was, he knew, that while he had tried to do right, there were still too many wrongs that he hadn't been able to stop from happening.
He would continue his quest or, in his case, drive, heading toward a voice that was summoning him.
A familiar voice that he had ignored all these years in his quest to right a wrong done so many centuries ago. Now, he realized that that voice was, ultimately, his calling card out of this life of, blissful, misery. Maybe if he destroyed that voice, God would welcome him into heaven. Or, if not that, he could have some semblance of a life.
His plan had been to keep trailing the voice, until he found the owner of it. He had come close, in Phoenix, but lost it among the many people there. And, when he had heard it again, he had started driving, heading west toward Nevada. He had not a clue on what he expected to find in the places he stopped. He knew only that while there had been unexplained deaths in Phoenix, there would also be, in where ever the voice stopped, even more deaths and disappearances. Yet, where the deaths would be his quarry's own doing, the unexplained disappearances, of these so called deaths, would be solely his doing.
He had to beat the voice before it got to it's new destination; where ever that was—he wasn't entirely sure.
All he knew, was that he had to keep driving and stopping when the voice became hungry and had to feed.
Sometimes he thought that the voice was just his tortured soul, keeping him at bay with it's
persisted hunger. What brought him some dwindling reassurance, was that he knew, that, while human shrinks would object to his sanity, the voice was not his own.
Yet, that only meant one thing, and that was that this creature—a horrible soulless monster, that he had buried centuries ago—had found a way out of it's tomb.
While this creature had woken up weak, it was hungry and it's hunger was what drove it to feed.
And because of it's unquenchable hunger, he had to kill whoever it had fed upon. For if he didn't, these ungodly monsters would then create their own unimaginable horrors.
As Amelia Steleman sat irritably tapping her fingers upon the desk, waiting for her new client, the mysterious Mr. Cirpian Alexandru, to show up, she tried keeping her temper under wraps.
Not only was his name mysterious, but so was he. She had never met him, nor had she spoken to him on the phone – so she hadn't a clue on whether or not he was young or old. The only
communications she had had with him, was either through these brief text messages or through email.
What she knew, from these short communications, was that he wanted a house; a house in a very secluded region—that in, itself, told her something about her new client.
Amelia had been in real estate long enough, to gain an insight on what certain people were like—
just by their preferences. People who wanted to live next to parks and schools, were either parents or grandparents—or, her sister would have interjected that they were possibly child molesters.
Yet, since this man did not want to live any where near people, that meant only one or two things, he was a recluse. If that was the case, she could just imagine what he looked like. He was probably some wrinkly old man, with a bad temper, who hated children, and...
Looking back over at her desk clock, she was instantly pulled out of her thoughts, when she saw what time it was. It was going on midnight, and her mysterious client still hadn't bothered to show. It was that frustrating realization, that he was either very late or he was a total no show. Irritably sighing, she stood up from her desk, and mumbling expletives under her breathe, she got ready to leave. She had been understanding about Mr. Alexandru wanting to come in at night, but this was unacceptable.
She had thought he would be in her office at nine or, at the latest, ten. Yet, midnight was stretching her patience.
After putting her coat on, she switch off her desk lamp, and, once she had left her office, she, before closing the door, inspected the cramp space – making sure that everything was off. It was upon her turning to leave, that she practically screamed when she noticed a dark figure—standing over by one of the five desks, that was situated in her real estate building.
When he stepped into the faint light, emanating from the only over head light that was still on, she was still somewhat frightened, but not as much as before.
Amelia couldn't say why, she suddenly started to relax. She was even more baffled by how
strangely enticed she was by the man that stood in front of her. He had wavy shoulder length platinum blonde hair, these mysterious grayish blue eyes, and he was clothed in an inklike black suit.
In all appearances, he wouldn't have been a man that she would have been remotely attracted to –
she couldn't stand men with long hair. Yet, for some strange reason, she couldn't help wanting to run her fingers through his. He definitely had this alluring presence, that made him not at all like any man she had ever laid eyes upon. Later on she would tell her husband, that this mystery man was strangely fascinating. She would leave it at that, though. For how did one tell ones husband, that her mysterious visitor, had aroused something in her that had made her want to animalistcally rip her clothes off and do the tango with the alluring stranger in front of her.
Trying to get a grip on her libido, she made herself think of those six happy years of marriage that she had had with her husband. While they hadn't any children, to her, their marriage was still very happy. While most were pessimistic about their marriage, including her sisters, she still believed that they had many more years to be happy together.
Closing her eyes, she breathed in—trying to compose herself. When she eventually opened them, she saw that the mysterious stranger was still there and, while he was still this alluring specimen that she desperately wanted, she now had more control over herself.
“Can I help you?” her voice slightly shook.
While she found the man in front of her still very alluring, she was still puzzled by his presence.
She couldn't remember hearing the bell over the door chime—announcing the presence of a visitor. It was like he had appeared out of thin air.
“I'm sorry...” it was the sound of his voice and it's nice ringing caress, that had her closing her eyes, again—just to get her libido under control. “I didn't mean to startle you.” he smiled, which would have been her, ultimate, downfall, if she hadn't started reciting the Ten Commandments in her head.
“That's perfectly okay...” reining in the rest of her lust, she said, “I'm sorry..., but were closed...”
“Oh...” the whole time he had been talking to her, he had leaned, his strong masculine frame, against the fifth desk – adjacent to her office; with his arms folded across his chest. Yet, when she had mention being closed, he quickly pushed himself away from that desk. “I thought I had an appointment, with a Mrs. Steleman.” shrugging, he continued, “I guess, then, I'll be on my way.”
He turned so swiftly, that at first she had thought her eyes were deceiving her. As he headed toward the door, he said over his shoulder, “Again, I'm sorry...have...”
“Wait!” it was her frantic voice, that had him halting, half way to the door, in his tracks. She literally flinched at the urgency in her own voice. She knew, in all common sense, that she should have let him leave. Yet, she didn't.
When he turned to look at her, he smiled, and gripping her purse more securely, she said, “I'm Ms.
Steleman...and we do have an appointment.”
“Well, then, if I'm not too late, maybe...we should...go.”
It took only a brief second, for them to decide on whose vehicle to take, which, she had adamantly insisted on them taking hers—she felt more comfortable in hers than his.
While it took less than two hours for them to find the perfect house, in the course of those hours, Amelia had formed two opinions of her new client. One, his mysterious persona was oddly attractive.
And, two, while she lustfully wanted him, she couldn't help being frightened by the secretive way he held himself.
If one thing was painfully obvious, Mr. Alexandru, was a mysterious man who wanted either no or very little contact from anyone. He didn't want a house in the city, that he was adamant about. She knew, what any good relator knew, and that was, what he was looking for wasn't located in an
apartment complex or even in a suburb.
Yet, while she knew this, it was due to her conflicting emotions towards him, that Amelia found herself dreading the long ride out of Tucson and up into the mountains towards that last house on her list.
This last house may have been a good fit for him, but she was still awfully nervous over the idea of being out of the city and completely alone with him. She couldn't really put her finger on what made her more nervous. Either it was because he gave off this alluring magnetism that she found hard to resist, or his secretive attitude was a little unnerving.
Whatever the reason, the drive out, to that final house on her list, was a long one. And, as she drove her Mercedes through the inking blackness, she gradually became less and less enticed on ripping her clothes off and more inclined to dropping Mr. Alexandru off at the side of the road. While in the beginning, that mystique, had had her so intriguingly enticed, that she had wanted to sleep with him on sight. Yet, now she was remembering that one forgotten safety rule that she had stressed to her own employees: “If it feels unsafe with the client, then don't put yourself in that position where you're alone with them.”
Throughout the rest of that drive, her nervousness was gradually become worse, and she found
herself sneaking the occasional glance over at him.
“It's okay..., Mrs. Steleman...”
His voice was so sudden, and had such a velvet silkiness to it, that she instantly flinched, causing her to swerve her car into the other lane. After she had quickly corrected herself, and said a quick thanks that there wasn't anyone else on the road, she looked over at him.
“What...?” her voice shook.
“It's okay...I'm not going to hurt you.”
“Oh...” she tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a cough. “I didn't...”
“I know..., you don't have to.” he smiled and looking back at the road, he said, “You've been swerving all over the road, and that leaves one to think that either you've been drinking...” he chuckled.
“or you're nervous.” adverting his attention back to her, he continued, “I'm willing to guess that the first is not true...”
It was when he smiled again that she felt herself automatically relax. She wasn't entirely sure if it was her conscience urging her or if she was just relaxing because of how silky Mr. Alexandru's voice was.
Letting out a nervous breathe, she returned her gaze back to the road, not looking anymore at her companion. As her eyes wandered from left to right, keeping a vigilant eye on any animals that might scurry out into the road, she found herself unable to even spare the man next to her a sideways glance-it was like her gaze was fixated on the road.
When they eventually arrived at their destination—an enormous, picturesque, mansion—she was so surprised, that she automatically felt her nervousness return. As her gaze wandered over the mansion in front of her, the ominous beauty of it, automatically, drew her in.
It had been on the market for close to three years. The few clients she had brought out to view this property, had found it too be so utterly gorgeous that they had wanted to purchase it right then and there.
To be honest this mansion was actually a really good bargain. It was on at least a hundred squared acres of land and it had all the modern improvements. Yet, oddly enough, it was one of the few properties that she was having a hard time selling to anyone. Those few clients, who were interested one minute, lost interest pretty quick. One minute, the client would be excited about signing the papers and moving in. Then the next time she talked to them, they either found something wrong with the property or there was something about the house that hadn't set well with them.
Yet, just from chancing a glance over at Mr. Alexandru, she knew instantly that this house was right up his alley. The way he sat forward in his seat and how his grayish blue eyes now, briefly, sparkled with intrigue, told her that they had found the one.
No sooner, though, did that look appear in his eyes, was it quickly gone; finally tearing his gaze away from the house to look over at her, she noted that that same mysterious, cloaked, gaze – with a hint of a reddish tint – was back in his eyes. “It's perfect.”
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish