Fiendish: A Twisted Fairytale (2 page)

“I believe this is yours,” he said, finally speaking as he held out a tampon that had rolled free. I didn
’t think this could get any worse until that moment.

“Thank you,” I said softly taking it from him.

I felt the heat in my face, and I knew it was as red as my hair at this point. My quiet stranger stood and then put his hand out to help me up.

“Thank you,” I repeated. “And I
’m so sorry about the mess.”

“So you
’ve said…a few times now.” He had a voice that was deep and velvety, something I could listen to all day.

“Oh, right, well, I um…” I stopped to dig through my purse to look for my wallet. “I have fifteen dollars in cash, so take that for your dry cleaning. I mean, if you use
a cleaners, it might not cover it, and I’m not sure how much dry cleaning costs, but I’m sorry that’s all I have, but I do have my credit card, so I can buy you a replacement coffee.” I held out the crumbled bills, waiting for him to take them. Instead, his warm hand wrapped around mine pushing it back towards my purse.

“Keep your money.” He gave me a smile for the first time.

I thought he was breathtaking before, but now that he flashed that dazzling smile, I felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“But I
’ve made a mess of your clothes and…”

“And they are only clothes. I have more,” he replied, cutting me off. “But you could give me the pleasure of sharing your name.”

“It’s Calida,” I responded, and he gave me a look as if he was unsatisfied with my response. “Alexander. Calida Alexander,” I added, smiling for the first time today.

He took my hand and brought it to his lips. I stood there in shock. They were velvet, like his voice. I never knew a man could have lips so soft, and I found myself wondering how they would feel if he were to kiss me. My face got hot. Quickly, I turned my head away. What was wrong with me? I don
’t even know this man, yet I was wondering what kissing him would be like.

“It was nice meeting you today, Calida.”

I shivered at the sound of my name rolling off his tongue.

“That is very kind of you to say…”

“Seth.”

“Thank you for being so gracious about the mess I made, Seth.” 

I was suddenly very aware of how close he stood to me and marveled at how he towered over my small five-foot-four frame. Seth had to stand at least six feet if not taller, but it was his smell that I noticed more than anything. I didn’t know if it was his cologne or if he just oozed sexy from his pores, but either way, he smelled divine. I had to stop myself from burying my face in his neck.

“You are very welcome. Maybe I
’ll see you around again sometime.” He flashed me another smile before stepping around me and strolling towards the door.

“Wait,” I called out after him, “let me at least replace your coffee.”

“The stuff’s bad for you any way,” Seth replied with a wink before exiting the building.

Stuck to the spot, I couldn
’t make my feet move initially as I watched him walk away. I had just encountered possibly the sexiest man around and made a total fool of myself. Letting out a heavy sigh, I headed towards the counter to buy my croissants before making the short walk home.

Macy was pulling up in the driveway as I turned the corner of our block. She smiled and waved when she saw me.

“Hey, Lee. Sorry again,” she said, opening the gate to the little bungalow house we shared. “Triple-A takes for-ev-er! I would probably still be waiting if not for the sexy good Samaritan I met today,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. I laughed, shaking my head. This was nothing new for her. She ran into sexy guys all the time, or rather, they seemed to flock to her. “I did manage to stop by the store to pick up candy for tonight,” she continued, holding up two Target bags.

Macy was the exact opposite of me: funny and outspoken. She stood up for herself, and me too at times, never letting anyone give her crap. Strong and confident, with drop dead gorgeous looks to match her attitude, Macy had it all together. With her rich caramel colored skin, hazel eyes, and honey blonde hair, she reminded me of Beyonce. Working as a stylist at Niemen Marcus, she always wanted to look her best, which meant she rarely went out in public without being
‘fully dressed.’ Even a quick run to the store meant her hair and makeup had to be complete, and her outfit fully accessorized.

I kicked off my heels the moment I stepped inside our house. My feet were killing me having to walk the two blocks from the bus stop to the café and then walking home. I
’d forgotten my tennis shoes this morning since I was running late, and I was now paying the price. I let out a soft moan of relief as I leaned down to give them a quick massage. Macy wore heels almost daily, and she was on her feet most of the day. I don’t know how she did it. After the brief massage, I hung my coat up on the coatrack by the door before I joined Macy in the kitchen. She was pouring the candy into the plastic witch’s cauldron we’d picked up at Party City. This was our first Halloween in the new house, having only moved in two months ago. We weren’t sure how many trick-or-treaters we would get, but we wanted to be prepared.

“So, the interview…” she said.

“Let me get changed out of this dress, and I’ll tell you all about my day. I ran into a sexy guy of my own today,” I told her, placing the container of croissants on the counter.

“Really?” she quipped, raising her eyebrow at me. “Hurry and go change; I want to hear about this!” With a gentle shove, she sent me to my room.

Macy was sitting curled up on the sofa once I emerged, digging through the cauldron looking for the good pieces of candy.

“Alright, spill it woman,” she demanded, yanking my arm and pulling me down onto the couch.

“You want the bad or the ugly first?” I asked, unwrapping a Reese’s cup from the Halloween bowl then popping it into my mouth.

“What? No good option? Even if the interview didn
’t go as well as you’d hoped, you said you met a guy; a sexy guy.”

I grabbed another piece of candy before filling her in on the details of my failed job interview. Then I gave her the embarrassing story of how I literally bumped into Seth.

“Aw, hun. Well first, it sounds like this Patrick Thorn would be a major ass to work for. I know you wanted this job, but maybe it’s a blessing in disguise, and something better will come along. Secondly, it sounds like this Seth guy was nice enough about the whole thing.”

“He was an ass Mace, but he
’s Patrick Thorn! Top of his field! I really wanted the job, even if it was just as his receptionist,” I said, grabbing another piece of candy. “As for Seth, he was nice, but I still felt like such a fool. It didn’t help that for the longest time he just sorta stared at me, not saying a word while I fumbled around. But man, Mace, he was so hot! This man was tall, dark, and sexy times a million! His hair was so dark, almost midnight black and sorta unkempt, but in a good way like he rolled out of bed, ran his fingers through it, and it just worked. And he had this low, scruffy beard that normally would make me wish the guy would shave, you know that five o’clock shadow type of beard, but it seemed to be a deliberate thing, and it fit his look. Oh, and he had to have the sexiest lips I’ve ever seen on a man. They were full, and he had this devilishly sexy grin that made me buckle at the knees, and when he kissed my hand, they felt sooo soft! I could die just thinking about them. But his eyes…wow! Those things! They were so vibrant and blue, I could get lost in them all day,” I said dreamily as I sat back against the sofa. “But none of it matters, because I’m not likely to ever see him again.”

I looked over at my friend who was wearing a huge grin.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing, just he seems to have made
quite
an impression on you,” she said still wearing that big grin. “You said you saw him at Carroll Street, so you might see him again.”

“Possibly, but even if I did see him, he wouldn
’t remember me. That kind of a man dates the model type, women that look stunning and are confident in their lives. You know, women like you. Men like that don’t date or take second notice of wallflowers like me.”

“You sell yourself short, my friend,” Macy retorted, grabbing more candy from the bowl.

“Says the woman that looks like a supermodel and has men falling all over her. Speaking of, tell me about the good Samaritan.”

Macy
’s face lit up in a way I’d not seen before. “Well, his name’s Mitch, and he’s really cute, and sweet. Girl, do you know how many people drove by me while I sat waiting on Triple-A? Fucking southern hospitality my ass, but he stopped, asked if I needed help and proceeded to get my tire all changed. He was done by the time the Triple-A guy got there. I thanked him, and he asked for my number.”

“So let me guess what he looks like…um a Mitch, and really cute, so I
’m thinking um, blue eyes, blonde hair?”

Macy didn
’t discriminate and dated guys from all walks of life, but her favorite seemed to be the surfer-boy, California types.

“Nope.
He has nice chocolate brown skin, black wavy hair, and dark brown eyes. But there was something about him; I think he’s a little older than the typical guy I would date.”

“Or maybe he just seems more mature than your usual hookups, which wouldn
’t be a bad thing.”

***

“Good evening, my Pet.”

She looked up at me with her tear-streaked face as she sat huddled on the bed.

“I figured we could dine together,” I said, entering the room with the dinner tray. She remained on the bed, hugging her knees tighter. “Tsk, tsk. You didn’t eat your breakfast,” I commented, noticing the nearly-full bowl of oatmeal.

“Please, I just want to go home,” she pleaded again.

“You should shower before we have dinner,” I replied, ignoring her plea for freedom.

I unloaded the plates from the tray I
’d brought down, placing them on the small table with me while she stayed frozen in place. Once I finished my task, I leisurely walked over towards her. Her crying began instantly; she scrambled off the bed, pressing herself into the corner. I grabbed ahold of her hair, snatching her forward. Whimpers and moans of pain echoed from the walls as I dragged her the short distance to the open stall shower.

“Wash yourself.
Now!” I commanded.

Hesitantly, she stood, turning her back to me in an attempt to keep me from seeing her naked form.

“Turn and face me.”

Reluctantly, she complied with my demand. Her shivering got more intense as she washed herself down under the cold spray of the water. I reached past her to turn it off once I was sufficiently happy with the freshly-scrubbed look of her skin.

“Much better. Now let’s eat.” I took a seat at the table and waited for her to join me.

“I
’m not hungry. Please. I just want to go home.”

“We can discuss that later. For now, come eat something. Don
’t make me say it again.”
                The fear that danced in their eyes always excited me, and watching them process plans for an attempted escape entertained me.

We both knew she was famished, so after several seconds of deliberations, she hesitantly walked over and sat.
 I knew she feared I’d drugged the food, but after a moment, the aroma of the steak was too much for her to ignore. Hungrily she scarfed down the food, unaware of my admiring eyes roaming her body. Her facial complexion was now blotchy from the incessant amount of crying she had been doing. Like hard little pebbles, her nipples stood out due to the cold. When she looked up to see me staring, she quickly dropped her fork in order to cover herself.

“I think it
’s time we play.”

She jumped up from her seat, making her chair topple over, shaking her head frantically. She made a dash for the door, but I caught her arm, flinging her towards the back wall.

“That’s not very nice of you,” I hissed, grabbing her up by her hair. “I serve you a nice dinner, and you try to run out on me before we even really start to celebrate.”

Pinning her arms above her head with one hand, I leaned forward and used my body weight to keep her immobilized. I used my other hand to lock her wrists to the shackles that hung from the ceiling. Once she was secured, I stepped back and reached into the pocket of my cargo shorts to pull out the scalpel, the dim light gleamed off the metal when I held it up for her to see.

“No! Please don’t!” she begged, twisting her body and trying to work her hands free.

Stepping closer, I slowly pressed the sharp, cool metal to her skin, lightly at first, but I increased the pressure as her face contorted in pain. Delighting in her screams that filled the tiny room, I marveled at the beauty of the sound.
 Each cut I made was paper thin, designed to bring maximum pain. 

She writhed in agony when the blade cut across one of her taut nipples.
 I couldn’t resist bringing my mouth to it, letting my tongue tease the fresh wound. Her keen cries only heightened my excitement. I made a second cut just below her collarbone and one down the underside of her arm. Each additional cut never went too deep, minor flesh wounds, but for her, the pain appeared unbearable. I pressed harder against her, grinding my hips, so she could be fully aware of what she was doing to me. I gazed at her, her face a perfect combination of terror, panic, and despair. I stared, trying to burn the image in my mind. It took an enormous amount of self-control to stop and leave without taking her completely.