“I’m glad to see you know how to follow directions,” he said in a low voice, soft and clear.
He leaned down close to her, looking down at her intensely as he lifted the sheet covering her legs to inspect the damage.
Elsa stared into his dark and compelling eyes, wondering why he had come back to town when there were far more important things than her that needed his attention. Her heart swelled at the romantic idea that he cared enough to show up until his typed words flashed in front of her sleepy eyes.
“Does it hurt?” his voice dropped in volume as he touched her thigh.
She pressed her lips together in anger. “Do you want it to hurt?”
Victor’s mouth twisted wryly and he quirked an eyebrow at her questioningly. “Why would you ask that?”
Anxiety knotted in her stomach. “Because you told me you like to cause pain.”
The line of his mouth tightened a fraction more and his eyes darkened dangerously. “I never told you that.”
She blinked long and hard and focused her fuzzy, medicated gaze. She had given away too much. “I’m pretty sure you did,” she held her ground firmly.
As he chewed the corner of his lip, he studied her face slowly as if waiting for her to break. “What I said was I like your tears.”
Little by little, she let out her breath. “Same difference. Pain equals tears.”
“It’s not the same, but I’m not here to argue with you, most especially not when you’re heavily medicated.”
“I’m not heavily medicated. I can still think straight,” she tried to sit up defensively.
Victor rolled his eyes and pushed her back down. “You’re medicated enough that the physician told me you can’t drive yourself home.”
Elsa sighed loudly. “Aren’t there rules about divulging personal medical information to people who aren’t my family?”
A slow blush crept over Victor’s face. It was such a strange thing to see, even in her semi-medicated state, she was taken aback.
“I told him I was your boyfriend. Anyway, he knows me…” he added with a dismissive wave of his hand as he turned and walked to the door to look out.
She sat back up and swung her legs off the edge of the bed as she tried to stand. “You’ve really got this whole lying thing down to an art, don’t you?”
Victor spun on his heel and gripped her upper arm to steady her. “Who says it’s a lie?” he glared down at her.
Elsa huffed. “I know what you are and what you’re not.”
For a long moment, he looked back at her. “And what is that?”
“You’re sure as hell not my boyfriend.”
If only she could say what she was really thinking. He’s cruel and sadistic. He’s a horrible man for using all those women as some kind of experiment and pretending he was doing them a favor when he was simply getting off on it. He’s an awful person for using her in the same way.
Victor’s glance sharpened and his fingers tightened around her arm. “Just get dressed.”
On the drive back to her apartment, Elsa watched Victor closely. She was beginning to feel guilty for what she had said. He had shown up and though the reason wasn’t exactly clear to her, she was appreciative.
“Thank you for coming to get me,” she whispered as she rested her hand on his thigh.
He kept his gaze forward and simply nodded.
“Victor?” His eyes darted to the side, but he refused to look at her directly. “I missed you this week.”
Suddenly he veered off the road and onto the shoulder, slamming on the breaks and making her seatbelt lock up. All at once, his mouth was on her and his hands fisted in her hair. His tongue danced around inside her mouth and she sucked at it like a woman who had been deprived the indulgence of a man’s mouth for far too long. The turbulence of his passion swirled around her and his kiss drained of her the anger she had been feeling earlier. His fierce kiss turned gentle and his fingers glided down her cheek to her chin where he held her firmly in place. Hypnotized by his touch, she tingled under his fingertips.
When he pulled back to stare down at her, she forgot the man he was in the journal.
“Though I do enjoy your tears, I don’t ever want to see you hurt. Not like you were today. Your physical pain is not something that gets me off.”
This man was a conundrum. He had written that he was a sadist and had accepted it. She searched his eyes for some sign of truth in his statement.
“Just my emotional pain?” she asked.
With his large shoulders heaving as he breathed, his brows drew together and he shook his head, but left his answer unspoken. It was fine because no words were necessary. His expression was easily readable for a change. He didn’t want to cause that kind of pain either. Not intentionally.
Her gaze clouded with tears, but she held them at bay as the eye-opening truth hit her. Victor wasn’t a sadist in the traditional sense. Even though he may have been turned on by the pain that he caused, he was simply a man who craved power in its most primal form – domination. Exerting his power over another person was what turned him on. He wasn’t forcing himself on unwilling people: he was seeking consensual partners, like herself; people who craved the same things he did. Didn’t this intelligent man realize that? But how could he kid himself into believing that he was helping those women? Perhaps he needed to convince himself of that in order to justify his actions. Then again, maybe she was the one kidding herself.
Elsa leaned forward and kissed him. God, she hoped she could help him see things her way.
***
Victor hadn’t anticipated the sudden departure from Cambridge, but he was glad for it. The day had been a shitty one. As he drove Elsa back to her apartment to gather clothes for the weekend, he tried his best not to recall the horrible events of the day, but it was pointless. The ugliness kept seeping into his subconscious.
He had been accosted by one of the parents of Victim #2, the pretty blonde, philosophy major. The father was lashing out at anyone who would listen and Victor just happened to be the man who caught the brunt of his attack. The accusation that he wasn’t working hard enough and that he didn’t care about what had happened stung. He did care. He was trying hard.
He glanced at Elsa who had dozed off and guilt swept over him. He should be in Cambridge not with her. But Elsa needed him, too. She had no one else to rely on. Wasn’t he allowed to have a life outside of work? He wasn’t asking for much, just a few days a week to spend engaging in his favorite pastime – his Chapters.
Parked in front of her apartment, he allowed her to nap while he let himself in to pack a bag for her. He hadn’t gotten to listen in on her activities during the week and as he grabbed her toothbrush, he wondered what she what it was she kept herself busy with. He ran his thumb over the bristles and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked tired and a helluva lot older than thirty-six.
He opened his mouth and peeked inside. His gums were cut and sore from the grieving father’s fist, but there was no outward sign of his assault. The man was lucky no charges were pressed against him, but Victor had insisted he simply be let go. There was no point in making a man who was already suffering, pay for his anger – not when his anger was valid.
Climbing back into the Nissan, he lifted Elsa’s skirt to inspect the dressing on her wound. It already needed to be changed.
Finally at the Grace Street brownstone, he parked in the driveway. Carrying Elsa inside, he laid her out on the chaise. It was still early evening and he called in an order for Italian food to be delivered in two hours’ time. In the meantime he would view the video from the previous weekend. He walked up the stairs and reached for the key around his neck when he remembered he hadn’t brought it along. He sighed irritably at himself and decided instead to bring in his luggage from the Nissan, and shower and freshen up from his trip.
Having fallen asleep in only his briefs after his shower, he woke to Elsa’s voice.
“Victor, our food is here.”