Page 44 of Animal's Reformation
Chapter Eleven
Light from thecomputer screen glowed bluish-white in the darkened den as he scrolled through profiles of women who’d expressed interest in him. It’d been two weeks since he’d united body and soul with his lovely Katie and sated the hungry darkness inside him. That should have kept the beast at bay for a few months at least, but it didn’t. The evil urge clawed its way up from his depths, craving and demanding more.
It’s too soon.Taking off his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose. In the past six months, the darkness had been surfacing too frequently, and from the quarter-page article he’d read in thePinewood Springs Tribune, he knew the police from the surrounding counties were comparing notes.
The man slammed his fist on the desk, angry at the sloppiness of his last kill. There had to be some way for him to control his impulse, to keep it under wraps for a longer time, but he knew he was only kidding himself. The darkness had a mind of its own, and it was so damn relentless.
Shaking his head, the killer focused his attention back to the screen. A frustrated sigh pushed through his pursed lips while a carousel of different women’s pictures blurred by as he clicked the mouse. Not one of them was even remotely satisfactory, let alone perfect. A thin film of sweat beaded along his hairline and he ground his teeth. He’d been slouched over the computer for the past two hours and nothing to show for it. The thought of searching for a new dating site crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. One of the main reasons he’d chosenDiscreet Passionwas the messaging system. He could conduct all his chats through instant messenger in live time and not leave a record of his conversations. A lot of the women wanted to exchange emails, but he’d have none of that. Once the beast had been fed, he deleted the women’s profiles from his hard drive, and then go in search of another perfect lady.
But tonight is a bust.Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back and dug his fingers into the back of his neck, massaging a growing headache. It seemed like it was getting harder to find the perfect woman.
Suddenly the door pushed open, and the light from the hallway spilled into the room. His eyes snapped open and heat flushed through his body.
“What’re you doing in the dark, honey?” his wife asked as she switched on the floor lamp next to the leather wingback chair.
Nostrils flaring, he quickly clicked out of the open window and closed the lid of the laptop.
“I’ve told you to never come in here while I’m working,” he gritted.
His wife brought her hand to the base of her throat and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but Tristan wants you to read him the story you started last night.”
His wife stood tall and lean, her arms folded across her small breasts, her lips red from the matte lipstick he hated, and her too-tanned face looked so fucking earnest. For a fleeting moment, she disgusted him, and he wanted to reach across the room and pummel her with a ferocity that scared him. This was his Frou-Frou … what was he thinking?
“He doesn’t want me to read it,” she said, taking a few steps back toward the door. It was as if she could sense his thoughts.
Ashamed of himself, he pushed up from the chair. “Of course I’ll read to him. Reading is so important in the education of a child. Did you have Aaron read aloud for you?”
Frou-Frou nodded. “He’s doing so much better since Olivia’s been working with him.”
“Olivia is very good at what she does.” The image of the teacher’s assistant with her captivating green eyes, curvy body, and long brown hair sent a rush of heat to his groin.
In the past six months, he’d found himself avoiding her as much as he could at work. He couldn’t risk doing something stupid with someone he knew, but it’d become increasingly hard to keep the urge to be with her at bay.
“What are you thinking?” His wife laughed. “You seem so … distracted.”
The killer slipped his arm around his wife’s neck and pulled her to him, brushing his lips against hers. “Nothing really. I just have a full week of meetings. I’m looking forward to the weekend. Maybe we can all go to Silverton for lunch and take a ride on the train.”
A smile spread across her face. “Tristan and Aaron would love that—they’re crazy for the steam engine. I’d enjoy it too.” She pecked his cheek lightly.
“Then it’s settled.”
They walked out of the den and climbed the stairs to the second-floor bedrooms.
Thirty minutes later, he switched off Tristan’s light and closed the door halfway, then sauntered down the hall to the master bedroom. He walked into the room, shutting the door behind him, and found Frou-Frou propped up in bed with two pillows behind her back, reading a magazine.
She glanced up at him. “Did you finish the book?”
“Yes. Tomorrow night he wants you to start a new one with him.” He unbuttoned his shirt.
His wife stared at him as he took off his clothes, and the desire in her gaze rushed through him. The man had been holding his hunger at an arm’s length for the past week, and it had grown even more since his disappointment in not connecting with the right girl that evening.
Frou-Frou put the magazine down on the nightstand and slipped out of bed and padded into the bathroom. By the time she came out, he’d stripped down to his boxers. She threw him a small smile, and he watched her move over to the walk-in closet and hang up her robe.She could never just throw it on the floor, or on a goddamn chair.
“Did you close the door tightly?” she asked as she walked over to one of the lamps on the nightstand and switched it off.
The brown-haired man softly walked up behind her. “Yes.” He gently squeezed her shoulders and let his hands fall down to her pert breasts. He pressed her closer to him and brushed his lips against her ear. “I need you,” he whispered.
His wife turned around in his arms and faced him. Leaning into him, she pressed her mouth against his, but he stepped back as anger pricked his nerves.
