The Guru: Shadow (Dark Triad #1)

26. Deis

26

DEIS

PLAYLIST: ALL WE NEED - LONER DEER

H e could sense something wasn’t right. It was like a small, sizzling wave going through his chest.

“Emma.” He tried to reach her, taking in her hand to ground her.

But no reaction came. She just stared into the void with her big, dark green eyes. Her heartbeat was fast, he could see her main artery pumping on her neck, heavy like she had sprinted two miles. Her chest heaving up and down way faster than it should.

Was it another panic attack though? Last time, it was different. He could reach her last time, she still reacted to him, now it was as if she just wasn’t in there anymore, as if she dissociated her whole existence. If so, it would be even better than he could have imagined, and it would make being with her unlimitedly more exhilarating. There was something hidden in her, something dark. And that part was the one he wanted to see. That part was the one he needed. Even thinking of it made his chest prickle with desire.

Suddenly, she jumped up and ripped him out of his thoughts .

“Emma.” He tried again, but she still didn’t react.

“Emma!” now Julie shouted at her, without any effect.

Pushing away her chair, she turned, and when she did, he saw it in her eyes. They had lost their spark, the fire, the depth; they were just dark and empty. Literally dark, like the blackness of the night in the country on a stormy day, and he had seen them like this before. It was the moment when Carl had raped her.

What was it that made her crush from the inside? Was it being seen? Or something happening against her will, out of her control? Or something attached to her moral compass?

And when she walked out of the room, he glanced back to the others in the room.

“I’ll be right back; you all do your magic.”

“Deis,” said Julie, “She is not good in handling stuff happening, she has a past–”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Like I said, we’ve learned a lot about each other.”

And with it, he went after her. Only problem, she was nowhere to be seen.

“Emma!” he shouted, but it was senseless.

As he rushed through the rooms and to the upper floor, he didn’t see her anywhere.

He then pulled out his phone, checking for the feeds, but she was nowhere to be seen, so he rushed back to the war room.

For a moment, he felt something that must be some sort of fear in him. He had to protect her. He needed her. Not because she had become essential for his plan, the grand finale, but because of what she had become to him. To his soul. To his tattered, cold, hard soul. Never had he cared for anything. But what hung heavy in his stomach right now was fear. Fear of losing her. Because he fucking cared. He, of all people, who cared for nothing much. But her.

Fuck.

“Ed, tell me where she went, I cannot find her.”

Edwards had the feeds up within seconds, tracing her back. She went upstairs, into the kitchens, took a knife and then locked herself in one of the bathrooms. There are no cameras there.

She took a knife. The thought of it – the thought of cutting her, seeing her cut herself – enthralled him like oil poured into fire.

“How did she manage to find all that so fast?”

“I don’t know. Ed, we need to open that door,” he shouted while hurrying for the bathroom.

When he reached it, he banged at the door. It echoed through the whole penthouse.

“Emma, open the door please.”

No reaction.

“The things you saw, it’s nothing we cannot handle. I’ve faced worse, believe me.”

No reaction.

“If you don’t open it, I will break it open.”

Still no reaction.

“Ed, break it open.”

He was sure of what she was doing in there. She had said it before. And he had seen the marks on her arms, self-harm was her form of release. Like the rush she needed before. He knew it all so well. Only that he harmed others, not himself. Right now, he longed to see. See the release she would get from it. See the knife split her skin. See the blood run over it. And he needed to be sure, sure she wouldn’t do the final cut.

While she had some sort of moral compass guiding her, he did not. Morals were a tool he used for his plans, nothing more. The world would be a better place if people would not hide behind morals and just be true, their true selves. He did not care about any of those he inflicted harm on. Most of them wanted him to harm them, and those who earned it had to pay because they did something unforgiving. So, he just didn’t care, because there was always someone to release his inner turmoil on. She, however, did somehow care about others. And that is why she needed a release pointed at herself.

The door lock clicked.

And he burst into the bathroom .

He closed the door behind him, as this was probably the sole thing Ed did not need to witness.

What he saw was perfection, letting his arousal grow up into the clouds.

A beautiful mess.

There she sat on the floor, leaning back against the bathtub, staring out of the glass windows with their beautiful view of mid and downtown. There was blood everywhere.

Not enough to call an ambulance, but enough to make any other person faint. He, however, was captivated by its beauty, it was marvelous.

Blood from her arms trailed slowly down to her palms, leaving beautiful traces of desperation. There was blood in her hair and on her face, smeared into it. And then, there was her masterpiece. The knife stuck in her thigh. She hadn’t pulled it out; she obviously knew what she was doing.

He squatted down next to her. And he couldn’t help but let his hand and finger wander over her arm until his hand was red from her blood. Her gaze followed his hand, and when he lifted it up to put her face into his hand, painting it with her own blood, he imprinted the image of her in his mind forever.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met,” he whispered while his thumb brushed over her red lips.

Her eyes flashed into his, and there it was again – the depth, the fire. And all he wanted to do was taste her, kiss her, take her, consume her.

When his lips met hers, he entered her with his tongue, taking in the metallic taste of her blood. She tasted phenomenal.

She kissed him weakly and restrained back.

“You might not see it, ma belle ,” he whispered against her lips. “But to me, you are perfection, and if I have to remind you every day for the rest of our life, I will do so.”

Tears flooded down her cheeks as he embraced her again. Taking his second hand up, he cupped her face with both his hands. He wanted to hold her, feel her in this strong and valiant kiss, claiming her as his.

And in his mind, he saw an image play in front of his inner eyes. The image of her in this beautiful bed in paradise, with its white sheets, birds singing songs of nature’s force while crickets chirp to the night falling on them. The warmth of their surroundings radiating onto their skin, and her, lying in front of him. The spots of her perfection marked by his worshipping as he consumed her in their bed of blood and roses on the day he would make her his for all eternity.