Targeted

  His hands on me…holding me down…the horrible searing pain, the feeling of wrongness as he…No!

  Emily shook her head, trying to clear the past away. She wanted to turn and run…wanted to shrink into a tiny ball and hope he would just leave her alone. But then something happened—the other inside her came forward giving her courage, lifting her chin and straightening her shoulders.

  “Sorry, I don’t respect rapists,” she heard herself say.

  The charming smile dropped abruptly off his handsome face.

  “All right now, Emily—that’s a very ugly word.”

  “And a very true one.” The other was still speaking for her—she didn’t know how but at this point she didn’t care. He took a step towards her but she held up a hand. “That’s far enough—don’t come near me.”

  “Now, Emily—be reasonable.” He frowned like a stern father confronting a wayward daughter. “Can’t we just let the past be the past?”

  “Not after what you did to me.” Emily glared at him. She felt the heat starting behind her eyes again but this time she welcomed it.

  “All right now, we both know I didn’t do anything you weren’t asking for,” he snarled, his fatherly demeanor slipping. “There were twenty other people in the bar that night who saw you coming on to me. You practically dragged me back to my dorm where you ripped off my clothes and pulled me on top of you.”

  “I…I…” Emily faltered and she felt the other recede, taking the power and certainty she’d felt just a moment before with it. True. What he was saying was all true.

  “Come on now, you know it’s true,” Grayson said, echoing her guilty thoughts. He crossed his arms over his chest, wrinkling the material of his expensive black suit. “I don’t know of anyone who doesn’t want sex behaving the way you behaved that night. I just did what you asked me to do.”

  “Not completely.” Emily’s voice broke and she had to clear her throat before she went on. “You…you didn’t stop,” she whispered. “Even when I begged you to—you wouldn’t stop.”

  “Well you could hardly expect me to—”

  But she turned and fumbled blindly for the door, her eyes blurred with tears. God, she had to get out of here—had to get away from this horrible shadow of her past that had somehow come forward to engulf her in darkness.

  Had to leave before she went crazy…if she wasn’t already.

  * * * * *

  Tragar watched as the little female stumbled out of the school and scrambled to get into her vehicle. There were tears in her eyes but he hardened his heart against the sight of her weeping. His fantasies earlier of holding and comforting her had decided him—he was getting too attached to her. This was the day. It was time to stop watching and start acting. He couldn’t observe Emily Brooks forever to find out what was so special about her—the fact was he had agreed to take the job and he had to get it done.

  But not at her place of work—not at a place where the younglings might find her. No, he would follow her to her domicile and put her to rest quietly and humanely. It wasn’t his usual way, that was certain, but he didn’t like the way this little female was getting under his skin. The more he watched her, the more interested he became in her and not just as a target.

  Better to break his own protocol and finish the job from a distance than to risk getting emotionally involved. That was the cardinal sin of the Verrak –one which could not be excused or forgiven. And somehow, even though he had never spoken to her or touched her, he found he was perilously close to committing that sin. She affected him, though he didn’t know how or why.

  “Never going to find out, either,” he growled to himself as he started his own vehicle—a small shuttle which converted easily to look like any of the Earth cars he saw whizzing past him on their concrete roads. He had light refraction tech on the shuttle too, allowing it to become invisible at will but he felt no need to use it now. If anyone saw him they would simply assume he was another Beast Kindred going to the Human/Kindred Relations building.

  Tragar watched as Emily pulled out of the parking lot, the wheels of her tiny vehicle shrieking in protest as she swerved wildly to get out onto the street. He was about to follow when a human male ran out to the same lot and got into another, much larger and more expensive looking vehicle. Tragar frowned as he watched the male with dark blonde hair take exactly the same path that Emily had. Was he following her? If so, why?

  Was he the one that had put those tears in her eyes?

  Unbidden, Tragar felt an angry, possessive growl rise in his throat. He tried to swallow it back down and found he couldn’t. This was ridiculous—the female was nothing but a target. This male might even be going to do his job for him which he ought to welcome. Instead, for some reason he felt rage that the male would dare to hurt her or make her cry. Rage and a deep sense of protectiveness.

  Don’t be a fool, he lectured himself uneasily. She’s a target. You’re not here to protect her—you’re here to kill her! But the feelings wouldn’t leave and he couldn’t stop the sense of urgency he felt as he put his vehicle in drive and pulled out, chasing Emily and the blonde human male who was following her.

  * * * * *

  Emily tried to stop crying but somehow she couldn’t turn off the waterworks. In fact, she could barely see to drive but that didn’t stop her from putting the pedal to the metal as her sister Anna would have said. The only thought in her mind was getting away—getting as far as possible from the dark piece of her past which had somehow shown up on her doorstep like an ugly, evil jack-in-the-box popping up where it was least expected or wanted.

  How long had she been pushing the details of that awful night down into her subconscious, burying it like rotten garbage that would begin to stink if she left it lying out in the open?

  You should have reported it—should have called the campus police and let them know what had happened to you—let them know what he did.

  The voice in her head sounded suspiciously like Anna’s. Her older sister was the only one she’d admitted the rape to—the only one she felt she could trust not to judge her. Then Grayson’s voice came back to her as well.

  Come on, Emily, who’s going to believe you? Twenty people saw you coming on to me, practically dragging me back to my dorm room. You wanted it—you were hot for it.

  And she had been too—right up until the point where he started trying to fit himself inside her. Then the waves of heat and lust she’d been feeling, the urgent need to have a man inside her, had abruptly departed, leaving only a sense of wrongness so deep it seemed to sear her very soul. It wasn’t guilt either—her parents had been strict but it wasn’t like they preached complete abstinence. Though her mother had hinted delicately that it was better to wait until marriage when she had “the talk” with Emily at age twelve. No, it was something else—something almost biological. A feeling of revulsion and sick depravity had swamped her, making her feel like she’d somehow been tricked into an act of bestiality rather than having sex with a man.

  What was it about Grayson that triggered such a strong and horrible reaction inside her? Emily didn’t know but she couldn’t fight it. All she knew was that she had to get away—get out from under him. She had a desperate realization that she couldn’t let this happen—it had to stop now. At that moment she began to struggle beneath him, trying to push him away rather than pull her towards him.

  Grayson had had several beers that night—they both had—but Emily had no doubt he knew what he was doing. When she tried to fight, he held her down and when she started to scream and beg, he put a thick, meaty palm over her mouth, pressing down so hard her teeth cut into her lips and she tasted blood.

  “Shut up you little cunt.” His breath had been heavy with stale beer fumes. “You want it! You know you want it and I’m going to give it to you…”

  Emily cut off the memory then—shoving it away with an almost physical effort of will as she pulled into her own driveway which was screened by a row of large Mexican Breadfr
uit bushes. She lived in a small one bedroom bungalow at the unfashionable end of Old Carrollwood—the only place she could afford near her school on a teacher’s salary. In fact, she’d just closed on the little house a few months before, which was a shame since it now seemed she was going to have to leave it and get the hell away from George Washington Elementary and everyone in it for the rest of her natural life.

  Hell no—we’re not going anywhere, whispered a voice in her brain. GWE is our school—why should we leave it to that raping bastard?

  Was it the voice of the other? If so this was the first time she’d spoken up. The other had always been a silent, ominous presence located somewhere in the back of her mind. Now, it seemed, she was coming forward at will and even talking—at least inside Emily’s head.

  Emily pulled the key from her ignition and ran a trembling hand through her hair. The fact that the other now had a voice and a personality was even more reason to get the hell out of Dodge as far as she was concerned. But forget her grandfather’s cabin in the mountains—maybe she ought to check herself directly into the local insane asylum.

  “Well, wherever I go, I’ve got to get away,” she said aloud in a shaky voice. “Screw getting sick leave—I’ve got to get out of here!” There was no way she could face Richard Grayson again—no way in Hell.

  She fumbled open her car door and got out clumsily, wobbling on legs that didn’t want to hold her up. God, was she actually faint now? What was wrong with her? Was it just the stress of confronting the man who had done such a horrible thing to her so many years ago? Or was it the other coming forward, trying to take control of her body? Already she could feel the heat waves burning outward from her center, swamping her in a dizzying rush of emotions too complicated to explain or ignore.

  “Please,” she whispered, leaning against the side of her little blue bug and putting a hand over her eyes. “Please, just go away and leave me alone. Please just let me be.”

  “Talking to yourself again, Emily?”

  The horribly familiar voice made her jump and open her eyes. She felt her stomach sink with a sickening lurch when she saw Grayson striding across the lawn to her.

  “You followed me home?” Emily couldn’t keep the tremble out of her voice. “What the hell is wrong with you? Get back or I’ll…I’ll…” She fumbled in her purse, trying to find either her cell phone or the small canister of mace she kept in case of attack. Neither one came to her shaking fingers, however. Instead she grabbed the first pointed thing she could find—which turned out to be a red ball point pen.

  “Or you’ll what—give me an F? Write me to death?” The contemptuous laughter in Grayson’s voice was almost too much to bear.

  “What do you want? How dare you come to my house?” Emily whispered. She still gripped the pen like a knife even though she felt foolish doing it. It was the only weapon she had and she’d be damned if she let it drop.

  “I just wanted to talk—we never finished our conversation.” Grayson sounded completely reasonable but there was a gleam in his light blue eyes that Emily didn’t trust. Not at all.

  “Say what you want and get out then,” she said, hearing a touch of the other in her voice again. “I don’t want you at my house—this is an invasion of privacy.”

  “No, this is me making a deal—a deal I think you’re going to want to take.” His eyes still gleamed as he took another step forward.

  Emily wished desperately that she had any hope of someone seeing what was going on. But the yards were unusually large in Old Carrollwood and most of the houses, hers included, were screened with lush tropical plants which formed natural hedges around the property. It gave a charming, hidden aspect to the houses and it was one reason she’d fallen in love with her little bungalow in the first place.

  Now she belatedly realized that the thick foliage also provided great cover for an attack. The Mexican Breadfruit leaves of her own hedge completely hid what was going on in her yard from the street—even her nosiest neighbor, Mrs. Harmon, couldn’t see into her property. Great if she wanted to sunbathe in a bathing suit on her own front lawn—not so good if she wanted help while confronting an attacker.

  “What are you talking about? What deal?” she asked warily, still gripping her red ballpoint pen.

  “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you but I didn’t just call you to my office for old times’ sake.” He grinned most unpleasantly. “I also had a complaint about you today from one Mrs. Peltz.” He paused delicately and Emily could see how much he was enjoying twisting the knife. “She, ah, seemed to think you were on something earlier today. Said you were sweating and shaking and swearing at your class—”

  “What?” Emily exploded, stung by the injustice of his words. “I wasn’t feeling good today and she thought she heard me say ‘shut up’ but that’s hardly swearing.”

  “It might as well be. You know how we feel about using such derogatory language.” Grayson shook his head and made that condescending tsking sound with his tongue again. “Such a shame if you had to take a drug test. Even if it came up negative it would tarnish your reputation permanently—maybe even cost you your job.”

  “I’m not on any damn drugs and you know it,” Emily spat, the other full force inside her now.

  “Well, I believe you but I’m not sure the school board would. Or the parents for that matter if it happened to get out.” Grayson gave her a nasty smile.

  “So what’s your deal?” Emily began to see what he was up to here. “You want me to keep my mouth shut about what you did to me and you’ll ignore Mrs. Peltz’s complaint?”

  “Not exactly…” He took another step towards her and her fingers tightened on the Bic until she felt the pen’s plastic casing creak in her fist. “I admit that was what I had planned at first but now that I’ve seen you again, I have something else entirely in mind.”

  “What?” Emily’s breath felt like it was stuck somewhere in her throat and she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Yet she was frozen to the spot, unable to run—caught like a small, frightened animal in the headlights as he advanced on her. Where was the other when she needed her?

  “It’s just…I’ve never forgotten that night we spent together.” Grayson took another step towards her, his eyes gleaming. “I’ve been with so many women since then but none of them could compare to you, my dear Emily. You were so tight.”

  Suddenly the other came rushing forward again at full force.

  “That’s because I was a virgin and you raped me you bastard!” Emily heard herself snarl at him. “I asked you to stop—I begged you to stop. But you wouldn’t!”

  “Well, as I said, I think we should let the past be the past.” He made a dismissive gesture with one meaty hand as though the horror he’d put her through was nothing. “Right now we need to concentrate on the present. And so I’m willing to offer you a deal—I won’t say a thing about your little drug problem as long as you’re willing to accommodate me once in a while. Shall we say…once or twice a week?”

  “Accommodate you?” Emily couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You mean—”

  “Fuck me. Well, but I guess I would be doing the fucking.” His smile had turned into a sneer of malicious enjoyment. Clearly he thought he had her in a bad spot and she wouldn’t be able to refuse him. “At least once a week. Starting now.”

  He took another step towards her and suddenly he was right in her face, invading her space. Emily raised the red Bic pen intending to stab him but he caught her wrist in his beefy hand and squeezed until the bones creaked. Her fingers went numb and the pen dropped with a harmless clatter to the concrete of her driveway.

  “You can cry and beg while we do it if you want.” Grayson leaned forward, pressing his cheek close to hers. “Actually, I think I’d like that,” he breathed.

  For a long, nightmarish moment Emily felt as though the past was repeating itself. Here was Grayson, looming over her again, his face like a bloated moon that filled her vision. He had her
in an unbreakable grip and his hot breath was gusting in her face. Only this time it smelled like stale coffee instead of stale beer.

  And once again he was intent on taking what she desperately didn’t want to give.

  “Come on, Emily.” He grinned at her unpleasantly. “I know you don’t want me reporting your drug problem to Ms. Edwards. So how about you invite me in? Unless you’d rather do our little business transaction right here in your charming front yard?”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word. “We’re in public. In broad daylight.” Which was actually a bit of an overstatement since it was a gray, overcast day threatening rain. But still.

  “I don’t think anyone’s home yet and even if they are, they won’t be able to see us through all the bushes you’ve got around here.” He nodded at the screen of Breadfruit plants. “Come on, Emily—”

  Suddenly it was as though someone had lit a bomb inside her—a Molotov cocktail that burst and sprayed rage like fire through her whole body. The other rushed forward again.

  “You son of a bitch!” Emily heard herself say, her voice a menacing snarl. “You take your hand off me now or I swear I’ll fucking bite it off!”

  “Oh, you’re feeling feisty!” He laughed. “I like it—we can go with that. I don’t mind a struggle.”

  “Then I’ll give you one.” With strength she hadn’t known she possessed, Emily tore her wrist from his grip.

  “Emily?” He frowned as though he was really seeing her for the first time. “Your eyes—they’re glowing. What the hell?”

  Once again she felt the burning behind her eyes—the ripples of heat rushing through her body. The attacker, whispered the voice of the other in her brain. The bad man—he hurt us!

  Well he’s not going to hurt us again, Emily told it firmly.