Beau - Chapter Seven
#5 of Beau
© All characters and storylines involving said characters belong to me: Eben Black.
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Room 219 was more than I expected condiering Damian had told me he wasn't earning massive amounts of cash from his newfound fame. He slipped the card through the lock and when the light flashed green he pushed it open and propped it open so I could step through. I stepped onto the plush carpeted floor and felt a wall of warmth smother me in seconds. I shuddered in the sudden heat and relaxed. Damian closed the door behind him and leaned back against the door frame as he smiled over at me. He pushed from the door and crossed the room, tracing fingers over mine as he walked passed me. He went to the windows that lined one wall. The room was big enough, an enormous double bed with silken sheets and a mound of pillows, all done in a fine crimson. An en suite bathroom equipped with bath tub and shower combination too. There was a chest of drawers and wardrobe done in fine rich oak while huge silk curtains were draped over the windows. Damian walked to the bed and sat down on the edge. He smiled up at me, those pale green eyes full of such warmth.
"Your welcome to use the bath or shower if you want to. But it looks like we're sharing a bed." He smiled up at me, that hint of blush that made him sincere and almost adorable to look at.
I smirked and stepped in front of him. I tilted his face to look up at me. I leaned down and brushed our lips together again, a deep warm sensation.
"Is that an "ok" to sharing the bed then?" he asked.
"Yeah." I ran fingers through his head fur and then turned for the bathroom, "I need a shower before we sleep."
"Fair enough. Help yourself to towels, shampoos and whatever else is in there. I'll foot the bill," he replied.
I grinned and padded across the room into the en suite and closed the door to. I never locked it because I figured I didn't have to do so.
I washed up, showered and even shampooed. I was feeling better, but there was some part of me that was screaming for me to leave. It wasn't that Damian wasn't a good guy. It was just that usually when it had come to men I let them get close, but never slept in the same bed as them on the first night I'd met them. Was this the right thing to do? If I didn't stay here I'm sure I could find somewhere else to sleep tonight. Did I want to? No. I wanted to stay here with him. Believe it or not but there was just something about him that made me believe he was safe to be around. I needed closeness, not sex, but someone to hold me while I slept. Things were going from bad to worse at home and the trouble with dad didn't look like it would be ending anytime soon. I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, me standing there dressed in just my boxers.
I took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. I stepped out and found Damian standing by the windows looking down over the blackened buildings below and the starlit skies overhead. He turned and smiled at me while I crossed the room and went to him. I went to him and traced my paws along his waist, I cuddled against him as he looked down at me with a gentle confusion. He smiled warmly and wrapped arms around me, embracing me. That world narrowed down and all that existed in my mind then was me and this talented musician who, for tonight, had stolen some part of me that I had valued before, my reasoning, my understanding. He gently squeezed me, that muscular frame warm to the touch. He leaned back and peeled his vest off without a word. He undid his belt and the jeans fell with a gentle thud onto the carpet underfoot. He stepped out of the denim dressed in just boxers. A slender hand found mine and he lead me to the bed. He pushed back the bed sheets and crawled backwards across them. He sat down and watched me, I crawled across the bed and leaned over, back arched and paws on either side of him as I touched his lips with mine and gazed into those beautiful pale-green eyes.
I died that night. Died and went to Heaven, sheltered in the gentle kisses and cuddles from the wolf I'd grown close to in a matter of hours. It tore down every one of the boundaries I'd set up, and it felt natural. Better than that. It felt like it was meant to be, as clichéd as that sounded. I lay on my side, facing the moonlight as it bathed the room through the wall of windows. Damian spooned me from behind, his body fit around mine like pieces of a jigsaw. I snuggled back and trailed fingers through the thick fur on his forearms. He buried his face into the crook of my neck and breathed deeper. I was surrounded in silk and fur and it felt amazing.
"Good night, Damian."
"Good night, Beautiful. Sweet dreams."
Sweet dreams was not what I had that night...
Shadows, shadows danced while a blue light bounced around the walls of the bedroom. I slumped against the wall underneath the window, knees drawn to my chest and a fine shudder thrilling throughout me. I heard them. Their booted feet sending the door flying from its hinges. The sound of angry males stormed inside the house. I let my knees fall as I gripped the window ledge one handed and hauled myself up. I was dressed in a pair of black pyjama bottoms, and a tank top. The blue light illuminated my orange and red fur, the black stripes looked harsh in the darkness, while my pale blue eyes shimmered with the coldness that surrounded me. Blood spattered the walls. Four dead. That was what one of the men downstairs shouted. A family killed. I grinned at the prospect and took a few steps across the bedroom. I pressed my back to the wall beside the door frame and waited. I took a deep breath as the light glimmered across my piercings in my ear. My tail swished gently, lazily behind me. A deep purr escaped me as I heard them climb the stairs and storm across the landing.
The door splintered on its hinges as the first armed male stepped inside. A doberman I believed. He was armed. A submachine gun in hand. Was I that dangerous that I'd warranted guns? Laughable. I rushed him, one elbow in his muzzle dazed him, his gun burst into life and sent dull thuds all along the window pane and wall surrounding it. I grabbed his gun arm with my other hand and twisted it under, the bullets trailed along the floor and shattered all of his comrades behind him in a well of painful cries and dull thuds. Steel and metal bit into their pathetic body armour and caused them to scatter, bloodied and half dead. I heard the doberman's arm snap as he shouted out. I held him there as his knees gave. I held his arm and wretched the submachine gun from him with my other hand. I looked down into his brown eyes. Such fear filled him, the anger ebbed and disappeared while sheer terror replaced it and sent shivers throughout him. Blood spattered the walls outside and pooled underneath the half dead SWAT team. Six, including the doberman. Six? Six armed men with machine guns, and I'd taken them out in a flash of silver-plated bullets.
A deep, rolling laugh escaped me as I threw my head back and squeezed the bloodied and mangled arm of the doberman. He whimpered in pain, his ears lay back over his head as he closed his eyes and breathed deep.
"What's your name?" I demanded in a low growl.
"S-Seargent H-H-Hanson!" he replied in a wincing glance.
"Seargent?" I repeated with wide eyes, a grin curved my lips as I added, "I am honoured."
"Why are you doing this Zackariah? First those college kids, and now this family? Why are you doing this?" Hanson demanded.
"Lets say that I'm doing this for kicks!" I growled back. I pushed hard and sent the doberman careening backward into the corridor.
I checked the submachine guns magazine and found half a mag left. I grinned and popped it back into the weapon. I turned it, locked, loaded and then held it one handed, poised upon the still moaning, still alive SWAT team. I'd relished in the deaths of the family, but this was much more of an adrenaline rush. I grinned and snarled as the gun erupted and more dull thuds shattered the bodies of the SWAT team in front of me. Blood spilled and spattered. The walls were decorated with small, thin ravines of crimson that spilled down like rain drops of a car window pane. I smirked when the gun clicked empty. I tossed it behind me and padded through the bodies. I found a 9mm on one of them and a handheld battle knife on another. The gun seemed like a bad choice to carry out of here, but the knife seemed like a fine choice. I sheathed the blade in the waistband of the bottoms at the side of my waist so I could move without cutting myself in the process.
I padded downstairs and found a leather jacket swung over the banister of the stairs. I pulled it on and did my best to wipe the warm blood from my maw and chest. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and nodded. It'd do. The door was splintered, and almost removed from the doorway. I stepped through the wreckage and found another squad car had pulled up. Two officers leaned over the bonnets of the car. There were no warnings, just the echo of gunfire. I crouched and rushed the bonnet without hesitation. Death waited for no tiger! When I was close enough I jumped, and landed on the bonnet, I skidded across and slammed into the first officer. Without missing a beat I yanked the blade free from the pyjama bottoms' waistband and threw it. The blade spun through the air and thunked into the officer's forehead. The hyena went wide-eyed and I knew he was dead before he hit the ground. I put a foot paw on the squirming police officer's gun hand as he struggled against me. I looked down at the small, slender racoon and slammed a hand around his throat. He gasped for air as I squeezed and grinned, watching the life leak out of him. I watched his eyes glaize as his throat gave under my paw and shattered inward. I released him slowly and stood up. I heard sirens in the distance. I took a deep breath and wandered to the hyena. I yanked at the blade from his head and watched blood swell and seep on either side of his limp skull. I wiped the blade clean on his shirt and then stood up. I saw them now. The distant blue of the lights. I turned and ran. I ran and let the rush of air carry me, hold me, and push me further and faster. I darted down a side street and ran until the sirens dulled. I rounded a bend, almost skidded over and ran into the shadows of a construction site.
Daylight was breaking as I ran under the structure of some modernised building. I stepped out of the site and ran across the road. I found a darkened alleyway and stepped inside. More sirens could be heard, as the shadows swam around me and enveloped me. I glanced behind and watched police squad cars rush passed, toward the massacre I'd ensued. I smirked at the work I'd done and disappeared down the alleyway. I need rest, exhaustion swam up, its pressure pressing down on me. Who knew murder could be so exhausting? I needed somewhere safe to sleep. I just hoped when I woke up, it would be somewhere not surrounded in bars and more police than I could handle.