Thief Of Hearts, Part 2

The following is the second part of a two-part piece. It is highly recommended that you read the first piece before reading this one, if you have not already done so. You can find Part 1 here

A lance of fear speared through Amber.

Paul moved from the doorway, taking a step into the room. Her eyes, he saw, were transfixed on the long blade in his hand. Her features were seized by fear. He could read her emotions clearly. She was scared. She was scared of the knife. Paul almost laughed. It should be him she should be afraid of.

Amber spoke, and her voice echoed with her fright: “What are you doing with that?”

He didn’t reply. He enjoyed watching her fear too much. Seeing his victims’ hearts besieged by terror was always his favorite part.

“Paul? Say something. What are you going to do with that knife?”

Paul considered that for a moment, and then replied, “I am going to kill you.”

The color drained from Amber’s face. She rose from the bed and began to back away from him as he walked closer to her. She was moving toward a wall. It was an interesting behavior, thought Paul, that they all somehow backed themselves into a corner. The wall Amber was moving toward was a trap. Oh, well. It only made it easier for him.

Amber whimpered, “What? But why?”

Paul did not respond. He usually did, telling the previous ones just why he killed them. It was only gentlemanly; that was his view. He usually spoke to the previous ones, telling them about the greater beauty for which they gave their lives.

But today he would not. Looking at her terrified figure, Paul felt a stirring in his groin. He would make it quick today. Delaying it would only make it harder for him to keep himself from brutally ravishing her. He would make it quick, and then he would see to his own demanding need.

After he cut out her heart, of course.

That was his reason. It was the beautiful, all-consuming goal he carried. Paul Black firmly believed in the immortality of the beautiful human heart. In taking their hearts, he kept their souls forever. In this way they stayed with him for all eternity. And their beauty never waned with the passing of time. He thought of the forty-something hearts he kept preserved in the hidden room behind the fake door at the head of the bed. He thought of all the women who had given them to him. He smiled. Amber was standing mere feet from his collection.

But Paul Black wasn’t alone in his pursuit of human hearts. There was another – and as much as he hated to admit it – a more experienced collector of hearts. Virtually nothing was known about this competitor, only that the methods the competitor used were superior to his own. The only thing Paul had in the way of his competitor’s identity was an enigmatic nickname: The Queen of Hearts. Whereas Paul only took the hearts of women, his rival seemed to prefer men.

Paul’s attention snapped back to the present. Looking into his eyes, Amber decided that the man she had spent most of her evening with was a lunatic. She slowly inched toward the door that led out of the bedroom. Escape. She would try to escape. Reaching it, she flung it open and ran out of the room. Paul let her go. He loved the chase. It only served to increase the value of the reward.

He slowly walked after her, the hunter stalking the hunted.

Amber ran down the stairs, and her only thought was to leave this place, never mind the fact that she was wearing only a bra and panties and the night outside was cold. Her only thought was escape.

She reached the door. Her hands fumbled at the handle. Fear was dulling her reflexes. Finally her shaking hands caught a grip on the handle and turned it. It was locked.

Fuck.

Amber turned wildly. Phone phone phone phone. She needed to find a phone, at least. And then she would try and stall for time till the police got here.

There was no phone in the hallway. None in the dining room, either. She was getting desperate, now. And then Amber spotted one in the living room. She ran to it, tore it off its cradle and started to dial 911. And then she stopped. The phone in her hand was dead. There was no connection, no link to the outside, no hope.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, Amber saw…

Paul descended the stairs just in time to see Amber drop the phone in her hand. First the door, and then the phone. Sure, like he hadn’t thought of those.

Paul saw Amber’s eyes turn to him, see him coming down. Fear was still written in bold letters all over her face. She ran. Ran, ironically, into another dead end. The kitchen. Paul shook his head. He might have given her more credit than she deserved. Tiring of the chase already, he dashed after her. He would end this soon.

He emerged into the kitchen and saw Amber, running hard for her life, crash into the kitchen counter and fall, taking down all the dishes on the counter. She landed amidst broken porcelain. Bleeding, she struggled to rise, and then fell again.

Paul walked calmly forward, raising his knife, relishing the moment. Amber was six steps away…her heart would be the most prized of his collection…then four…God, she looked so sexy, almost naked and vulnerable, and about to die…then two…

Paul reached down and grabbed Amber’s hair, lifting her roughly to her feet and raising his knife…

And then Amber whirled suddenly and something pointy pricked Paul in his neck.

At first, he could not comprehend what had happened. Then, in the corner of his eye, he looked down, and saw the handle of the table knife sticking out of his neck…

…the knife Amber had stuck into him…

…the knife she had taken from the smashed remains of the dishes, when she had purposely crashed into the kitchen counter…the knife she had been washing when he started kissing her…

Paul looked into Amber’s eyes, not understanding. This was wrong. It wasn’t supposed to end this way…

Amber grabbed the knife, pulled it out and stuck it in again. And again.  And again and again. Blood spurted out of the wound, drenching them both.

Paul’s knees buckled, and he fell, dropping his knife and gurgling blood.

And as Paul Black fell, his last thought was: This cannot be…

 

Amber watched his body collapse to the kitchen floor. She dropped the table knife and retreated into a corner, slumping to a sitting position on the floor.

For a long time, she sat unmoving, not shaking, not crying, nothing. She just sat.

After a while Amber arose. She slowly walked over to the shirtless corpse. Even in death Paul was handsome. It would be such a shame to mar such a beautiful figure, but waste not, want not.

Amber got down on her knees. Taking Paul’s knife from where it fell, she made a neat incision into his chest. It took her a long time, working past bone and muscle and sinew, but al last his chest was wide open, and she could see it, nestled beautifully between two lungs.

Taking delicate care, she stuck the knife in one final time and cut out his heart.

Afterward she walked to the sink and washed the blood off the knife, taking care to wipe her fingerprints off it. She was absolutely soaked in blood. Amber walked upstairs and took a long, hot shower, reveling in the blissful heat of the water. Emerging, she placed her wet bra and panties in her handbag. She would dry them when she got home. She dressed in her evening dress, the one that she discarded on the bed earlier on.

She searched the room. Not finding what she wanted, she went back downstairs. It was in his pocket: the key to the door outside. Amber pocketed it. She then went carefully over the whole house, wiping her fingerprints off any surface she had touched.

Then she walked to the front door, unlocked it and emerged into the evening chill. Amber carefully closed the door behind her and threw away the key. She patted her handbag lovingly. Inside it was the jar that held Paul Black’s heart. It would make a fine addition to her collection.

And then Amber Williams – also known by some for her clandestine hobbies as the Queen of Hearts – turned, and began the long walk toward home.

Author’s note:

Well, there it is. Loved it? Hated it? Let us know what you think. The author is completely at your mercy in the comments section. *cringing*  Be nice!

Thief Of Hearts, Part 1

THIEF OF HEARTS.

He opened the door to his apartment and led her inside, out of the late evening chill and into the inviting warmth. Glad to be out of the cold, Amber took off her jacket and hung it on a rack by the door. She took a few steps into the foyer and looked around at her surroundings.

“Well, what do you think?”

Amber turned.

Paul was standing by the now closed door, looking even more perfect than he had all evening. The suit he wore was perfectly tailored; it fit snugly around his muscular body, emphasizing the size of his chest and arms.  He looked, quite frankly, like a model. But what captivated Amber the most were his eyes; green, soulful, and deep. Paul’s eyes were mysterious. They hinted at more to the man than met the untrained eye. It only added to his allure.

“I think it’s great,” said Amber.

Paul took a few steps toward her, never taking his eyes off hers. “Eh, it’s alright. I manage,” he said in good humor. In reality the place was near magnificent. Amber managed a small laugh.

He was so close…she could smell his cologne, and beyond that another smell, a manlier odor, one Amber took to be Paul’s own smell. Amber found herself breathing in deep. She loved it. She found herself beginning to imagine what his full lips would taste like, how it would feel to have his strong arms wrapping around her…

Paul said, “Dinner?”

For a second, Amber’s brain, lost in fantasy-land, couldn’t comprehend. “What?” she asked stupidly.

“I asked if you would like some dinner,” Paul repeated, slowly pronouncing every word. He gestured with his arm.

Amber looked to the dining area, where a beautiful meal for two had been set out under the hypnotizing glow of two thick scented candles. A bottle of champagne stood on the table.

“Well?”

Amber turned to look into his deep green eyes.

“Dinner would be lovely.”

*************************************************

Dinner consisted of lobster and olive bread with salad, all washed down with champagne. It was really good, Amber had to admit. She turned her gaze to the man sitting across from her.  Amber was glad she had finally started dating again. Paul was perfect in every way. He was staring back at her. Then he smiled a slow, sensuous smile. Amber blushed. She hoped he didn’t see, that the glow of the candles camouflaged her sudden shade of red.

Paul cleared his throat and said, “Perhaps I should clear the dishes.” He rose.

Amber followed suit. “I’ll help you.”

Together they carried the dishes into the kitchen. The kitchen, like everything she had seen in the house so far, seemed very tastefully furnished to Amber. Simple, yet elegant, the kitchen lacked any kind of clutter. It was a typical single guy’s kitchen; it was obvious that Paul didn’t have any woman in his life yet. An image of herself and Paul standing before an altar flashed uninvited into Amber’s mind. She shook her head vigorously. For God’s sake, it was only a second date. But again and again she found herself imagining – hoping – that it would work out between them. Paul was perfect in every way.

Paul had already finished the dishes he was washing. Damn. Amber had wasted time daydreaming. She turned away from him and furiously started washing the knife she had in hand. Paul walked over and stood directly behind her. “Need any help?” he offered.

“No, I’m good,” replied Amber tightly. God he was so close…she could smell him so strongly…

Paul laughed. “What kind of host am I, even? Making you do dishes your first time here and all.”

“No, really, I’m good. I don’t mind.”

He lifted a hand and brushed it through her hair, revealing bare neck. Paul leaned close and whispered, “You sure?”

Amber began to say, “Yes, of course I’m sure…” but then Paul leaned in closer and kissed her on the side of her neck.

Amber lost her train of thought. The knife in her hand fell onto the counter. Paul kissed her neck again, then turned her so she was facing him. He smiled his slow smile again and then kissed her full on the mouth.

Amber sighed into his mouth. It felt so good. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back with passion. He cupped her face in his hands. And all thoughts of the outside world faded to Amber, and there was nothing but this man, and her desire for him. She stepped closer and began to grind her hips into his groin.

Paul groaned. His stiff member pushed against her leg. He pulled away from kissing her and looked deep into Amber’s eyes, and then down at her breasts. Amber stood on tiptoes and began to rock up and down on the balls of her feet. To an observer it might not make much sense, but Amber was really rubbing her breasts against Paul’s chest. She felt him take a deep breath, and then his control snapped.

Paul scooped her in his arms and carried her out of the kitchen. Up the stairs they went, and finally to the bedroom. It was a spacious place, with paintings on the walls and a big bed almost smack in the middle of it.

Paul dropped her gracefully on the bed.

Amber arched her back off the bed and met Paul’s hungry lips. At the same time, his hands were moving all over her. Amber’s evening dress came off, revealing her in only her underwear. Paul kissed her face and neck, then slowly moved his head over her mound and kissed her through her panties. Amber cried out. Paul straightened up and took off his shirt, revealing a broad chest and thick, corded muscles. Amber sighed with anticipation.

And then Paul did a weird thing. He stopped. Stopped kissing her, stopped touching her, he just stopped.

Amber looked at him with confusion in her eyes. For a moment it seemed as if Paul was battling himself, fighting an inner battle for control, but then it passed, and he seemed normal again.

“Paul? Is something wrong?”

He smiled down at her. “No, love. I just need a moment. Be right back,” he replied. He moved off the bed and into an adjoining room that Amber hadn’t noticed before but now saw to be the bathroom. Paul entered and closed the door.

Amber sighed and then giggled. She knew he was the one. Sighing contentedly, she lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes to await his return.

In the small bathroom adjoining the bedroom, Paul Black was looking at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. His thoughts turned to the beautiful woman in the other room. He thought of the perfect swell of her breasts, of the lovely curve of her ass. Amber was everything he wanted and more. He thought of how he had almost lost control, how he had almost crossed the line and made love to her. He never did that. He had never done that to any of the others. But this one was different, though. Amber was truly special. He sighed.

It was a shame that she had to die…

Amber turned to face Paul as he emerged from the bathroom. He wore a lopsided smile on his face, with an intense, piercing look in his eyes. He paused in the doorway. An uneasiness rose within Amber. There was something different about Paul; something altogether more sinister.

And then Paul moved and Amber could see clearly the knife he held in his hand.

Note: Here ends the first part. You can find the final part, Thief Of Hearts, Part 2, here