The Cost Ch. 02

Note from the author:

I chose to re-write chapter 2 because I decided to take the story in a different direction than the one I originally intended. Plus, some of these new choices simply made it easier for me to explain some of Paul's actions. To be frank, after going back over the original chapter 2, I thought it sucked a big one, and though I suppose that isn't always a bad thing, in this case, it was.

This is actually the third version of this chapter. I would really like to thank Angel for all of her help! She was very helpful in pointing out quite a few of the things I missed in version 2. Thanks again, Angel! Your support has been great too!

I would also like to thank Mary! She has started a great website call Rainbow Community Writing Project, which is home to an extremely talented group of authors whose work really blew me away. Mary also gave me more than a few helpful pointers which prompted me to go back over this chapter and change some things. She also set up a great home page for me, and I would like to thank her again for all of her time and effort. If you are not familiar with the website, I highly recommend you check it out. The address is rcwp.homestead.com and it, like Literotica, is free for people to view.

*

A Very Long Time Ago. . .

"Will you not reconsider?" I speak softly into his ear.

Ash is still inside me. My legs are wrapped around his waist and his tall, muscular frame is stretched out over mine with his head on the pillow beside my own. We are both covered in sweat from the activities of only moments prior. More mine than his, though. Up until the final stretch, I had been the one on top, riding and doing the majority of the work. In sex, this has always been my favorite position. Submissively in control, so to speak.

I realize this might not be the best time to ask questions of this nature, but I have never been one to hold my tongue when I wish to speak of something and patience has never been one of my strong suits.

Ash turns his head toward me and kisses my neck, raising himself up onto his elbows. He holds my gaze with his own for a moment, sadness crossing his face for a split second before becoming blank. I can already tell what his answer will be.

"No," he says simply, all the while holding my gaze with his arctic blue eyes. Among our people, blue eyes are a rarity. Almost all, like myself, have brown. His height is another rarity. I am considered very tall, but he tops me by almost a head. No one matches or even comes close to his height.

"No? That's it? Just no?" I speak sarcastically. He does not answer and continues to look at me, ignoring my sarcasm.

I move from beneath him and he slips out from inside me. Sitting up beside him, he rolls over onto his back and crosses his arms behind his head. He is still silent as he gazes at me, showing no expression on his face. I am annoyed now and sparks of irritation flash from my dark eyes as I meet his gaze challengingly.

"You have it within your power to make it so I live forever. Why would you deny me this?"

His beautiful eyes are unreadable when he answers, "The cost would be high."

I am incredulous that he would speak of money. "Fine." To me, of all people. "Name your price."

He laughs, reaching his arm out to grasp my waist as he effortlessly pulls me to him and crushes me against his powerful chest, kissing the top of my head. His hands lift me to straddle him again, as we were in the beginning of rounds one, two, and three, and I sit atop him looking down into his laughing eyes.

My annoyance increases at his finding the subject so funny and I make a move to get off of him, but he grabs hold of my hips with both hands and grinds my ass against himself. He is getting hard again, and fast, but I am no longer in the mood. I move again to get off of him and, again, he has no problem keeping me right where I am.

Still keeping me straddled atop him, he sits up and wraps his left arm around my waist, stroking the back of my head with his right. His eyes are serious when he speaks, "You speak of price as though you think I would actually charge you." He kisses me softly, teasing my tongue with his own, and my irritation begins to wane. Breaking the kiss, he hugs me to him and whispers in my ear, "You should know better."

He tongues the spot right below my ear; he knows the spot drives me wild, and my irritation subsides completely. I am getting hard myself and I reach beneath me for Ash's now completely hard, and not inconsiderable, cock, slipping it back inside of me. It goes in easily; we have been doing this for hours already.

I raise myself up, squeezing my muscles along his length, before slowly bringing myself back down, eliciting a groan from Ash. He lies back onto the bed and grabs my waist again, helping to facilitate my up and down motion.

Our movements are becoming faster and our breathing more labored. The noise we are making are extremely loud as well, but I have no worry that the guards will enter my chambers, thinking I am in danger. Ash and I have been together for almost three years now, and they are used to our. . . activities. Ash is one of the few that they do trust me alone with. It has been months since the last attempt on my life was made and Ash himself had taken care of that one. I helped a bit as well; in my family, we are trained, and trained well, to be our own last line of defense should our guards fall. But I only dealt with two of the would-be assassins; Ash killed the other six before I even had a chance to help him.

If my own impending orgasm is any indication, then I know that Ash will be close to his own as well. I slam back down onto him one final time before he sits up, clutching me to himself to keep me impaled on his cock, and flips me over onto my back. We always finish this way.

He pumps himself into me slowly at first, hitting my spot with every thrust, causing me to cry out. I reach down to my cock and begin to slowly stroke it. It doesn't take long for my release to come. Fluids erupt from me for the fourth time that night, covering my stomach and some even reaching as far as my neck.

Ash smiles wickedly at me and I make a feeble attempt at a smile of my own, though I am still being wracked by the waves of pleasure pulsing through my body. His thrusts pick up in speed and it is not long before his body tightens up as he spurts his own come inside me.

Laying on top of me with his face buried in my neck, he moves his mouth to my ear and murmurs , "I love you."

I say nothing, but wrap myself more tightly around him. It is not that I don't feel the same; I do. I am just floored to hear him say it. He never has before, though I have suspected for some time that he does love me, and much as I want to say it back, I just can't find it in myself to do so. To me, such a declaration would forfeit power, and it has been ingrained in me since birth to never give up power needlessly. Regardless of the circumstances or the forum.

He raises himself up onto his elbows and looks deep into eyes again. Pushing hair the color of my own out of his face, he must see something that agrees with him, because he smiles widely a moment later and lowers his face to mine. We kiss for a long time before he pulls back once again.

"You don't have to say it. I know," he says simply. He then rolls off of me and lies on his back, pulling me close.

I twine one of my legs through his and drape my arm across his stomach, my head resting on his chest. Listening to his heart beat, I am amazed that it is beating so evenly and the last thing he said before our recent bout of lovemaking hits me. I am hesitant to ask the next question, especially after his declaration, but I have to know.

I pull back, a puzzled look on my face, "If it is not money you speak of, then what is the cost?"

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

It is a quarter after two in the morning that night when I am awoken by a strange noise at my front door. My home is equipped with an alarm system, but I have not turned it on because I do not feel the need. The neighborhood is a safe one and I am also unafraid of being harmed for obvious reasons. All of the lights are off inside, but I am able to see as though the sun were out. When I hear a sound at the back door as well, I throw back the covers and stand. I am naked, so I walk into the closet and quickly dress in a pair of black sweatpants and a long sleeved gray shirt.

My senses, like my strength, are heightened as well. I can see the craters on the moon unaided by a telescope and I am able to hear the sound of a leaf falling off of a branch from a quarter of a mile if I strain my ears. My sense of smell is a wonder; the world is an encyclopedia of scents for me.

My home is a three story, sprawling brick affair with six bedrooms, five bathrooms, a room set intended for use as a library, a basement that appears to have been turned into a game room by the previous owners, and a large stuffy attic. The closest neighbors are about four hundred yards away and the perimeter of my property is surrounded by a brick wall about seven feet high with a gate at the end of the long driveway that lets out onto the road. The front yard is the size of a football field and well manicured with trees interspersed through it. I have two gardeners in my employ who come out twice a week and keep the lawn maintained and clear of leaves and the like. A large patio leads into the back yard from the back door. My back yard is not so large compared to the front; the property ends about fifty yards from the patio door and then there are only woods, but I do have a large, heated pool with a diving board at one end and a hot tub at the other. There is a four car garage on one side of the house with a door leading out from there and a heavy wooden door at the front large enough to allow entrance to four people standing shoulder to shoulder.

I stretch my hearing out like a radar and stand still for a moment. There are three men at my front door and five at the back on the patio. There are also two at the door coming out of the garage. I hear others in the distance. They are not far and I cannot tell how many but I believe they are surrounding the wall around the house. My sense of smell detects the scent of sweat and the faint aroma of gunpowder and, since I do not own a gun, I assume that they are armed. I walk back over to the bed and reach under my pillow to grab the knife that I keep hidden there. Eight inches of razor sharp steel that I have not had to use for a very long time, but I keep it there anyway. Old habits die hard. I slip it into the waistband of my pants.

In seconds I am at the side of the house directly over the garage. I slip a window open and jump wide of the house. As I plummet towards the ground, I study the two men by the door. They are both dressed in black from head to toe with bullet proof jackets covering their torsos. Each holds an automatic weapon equipped with a silencer in addition to high powered automatic rifles strapped onto their backs. A lot of firepower for one person.

Still in the air, I come to a decision. These men are going to die. All of them. My nature is not a very forgiving one, and I do not believe these people are here to sell me cookies or bibles.

I am also a predator at heart. My predatory nature has not reared its head in a long time, but I am suddenly hungry. I seldom feed these days; it is not as necessary as it was in the beginning. Back then, I had to feed almost every day, but over time, my cravings began to wane and it has now been almost six years since the last time I felt the urge. I attribute this, among other things, to my age and am thankful for it simply because the ramifications of killing people in this day and age make it too much of a hassle.

I land on the ground a few steps behind them and the slight noise I make alerts them to my presence. As they begin to turn, I leap at them. Grabbing the first one by his head, I twist it hard all the way around, snapping every bone in his neck. He begins to fall to the ground just as the other turns fully to face me. I do not give him a chance to make a sound before launching my foot through the air to catch him in the nose, sending the bone flying into his brain. He dies instantly, his face a ruin, and falls next to the other.

I stand straight and look around. I do not have the time to be idle if I am to take the rest out before they begin making too much noise. My neighbors are not exactly close, but I do not wish to take chances.

Hearing the soft sound of a silencer equipped gun being fired, I quickly turn in the sound's direction. A man dressed exactly like the two I have just killed has a gun pointed at me and is firing once again. The first bullet, I take in the left shoulder and Iswiftly jerk to the right to avoid the second bullet. He speaks into something at his collar as I reach for my knife.

"Target is -!"

He does not have an opportunity to finish because I have thrown the knife at him and it is now protruding from his throat. I am very handy with knives; I can hit a moving target with deadly accuracy at better than a quarter of a mile these days. Even when I was human, knives were extremely dangerous weapons in my hands and they are even more so now, with my supernatural strength and sight. He claws at it as he falls to his knees, but he is rapidly losing strength and the knife is sunk to the hilt with the blade sticking out of the back of his neck, so he is unable to pull it out.

I hear a voice at the front of the house. "The target is what?" he says in a heavily accented voice that I believe to be German.

I tear through the flesh of the wound in my shoulder and dig the bullet out, tossing it to the ground. The bullet hole closes instantly and there will be no scars. There never are. The only evidence of my being shot is the blood on my shoulder where the hole used to be.

Reaching down to the body of one of the soldiers, I strip him of his rifle and sling it across my back. I grab both of their guns, one in each hand, and hold them ready as I sprint towards the back of the house. I feel a bit like Rambo and have to resist the urge to laugh.

A second later, I turn the corner and do not hesitate before firing five times in quick succession. The silencer does its job and there is only a barely audible sound as each bullet leaves the gun. The bullets find their marks as each man takes one in the head and they all noiselessly fall to the ground. Blood splatters all over my patio and I know that if I do not wash the blood away before it dries, then I will likely need a pressure washer to clean the mess. My eyes spot three more walking around the wall and I take them out in the same manner, causing blood and brain tissue to cover my walls now too.

I run across the patio past the bodies and keep going past the corner around to the other side of the house. I see two more and, without breaking stride, I squeeze off two shots which they take between the eyes. I am moving extremely fast now; these people do not have a chance to cry out or fire their weapons at me because all they see is a blur, if they even see that. Which is fortunate, because I do not enjoy being shot. It kinda hurts.

Rounding the corner to the front of the house, I spot the three men on my front porch and they look ready to bust down the door. Less than ten seconds have passed since the man I took out with my knife went down. In addition to the three at the front door, I notice two more wandering about the front yard and I see two large SUV's at the end of the driveway, each with someone behind the wheel. The gates are open as well, which surprises me because a code is required to open them.

I change tactics this time because I wish to question one of these men. Two of the men at the front door go down as the others did. The other, I shoot four times. He takes a bullet in each hand and one in each thigh. As he falls to the ground, I turn my attention to the two in the yard. They both take a bullet through the head as I run to the end of the driveway. The front windshields only crack slightly as I shoot and I realize that the windows are bulletproof. I throw the guns down as useless. I would throw the rifle down as well; I have not even had to use it once, but it is not a hinderance to my movements so I leave it where it is.

Launching myself into the air towards the hood of the car, I kick the windshield hard three times in rapid succession before landing. The windshield finally breaks and I reach for the man's neck as he fumbles for the door handle. I rip away his throat and a shower of blood sprays my face. I jump off the hood onto the ground next to the door of the other SUV. I do not bother with the window and just rip the door off of its hinges. Wincing at the loud sound the tearing metal makes, I casually toss the door several yards away onto the grass. The man is frantically backing away from me into the passenger seat. I know I must look a sight covered in blood as I am with a rifle strapped to my back. Throw in the ripping away of doors and this man must think that some sort of hell beast has come for him.

I smell the odor of urine and I look between the man's legs to see that they are wet. I cannot help but laugh. I decide that I wish to question this man instead of the one on my front porch.

He finally reaches for his weapon and I am surprised he has not done so already. I quickly lean forward into the car and grab his hand before he can reach the gun at his hip. I shake my head slowly and smile. With the heel of my other hand, I strike him hard in the temple and he crumples. He is only unconscious; I was careful not to hit him hard enough to kill. With one hand, I grab him by his shirt and throw him over my shoulder.

Perhaps I should worry that there are others, but I am confident that I have handled them all. I do not hear or smell anyone in the immediate vicinity, but there may be more close by. I will find out in a moment.

I reach the front porch and find the man I have shot, but not killed, clutching one of his legs with his ruined hands, tears running down his face. The smell of the blood is inntoxicating to me, but it does not whip me into a frenzy like it did in the old days. A person might think I am a monster now, but really, I am nothing compared to how I was back then.

"Please help me," he pleads in an accent I peg to be mid-western American.

I drop the man I am carrying and lean down beside him, pushing his hair out of his face and wiping some of his tears away. I can be kind when I wish and I am seldom needlessly cruel with people I am about to kill.

"I am sorry, I know that it hurts. I will call an ambulance for you in a moment." He is in no condition to tell me anything useful, but he can answer a simple question. He grabs at my hand with both of his bloody ones, adding more blood to what is there already.

"Yes, thank you. Thank you." I wonder at his training and his common sense. He cannot truly believe I will call an ambulance for him.

"Just tell me one thing before I do. How many of you are there?"

"I don't know. Fifteen, maybe twenty." His face is a rictus of pain and his breathing is getting ragged. Judging from the amount of blood pooling around him from his legs, I believe I have hit a major artery. Dying from loss of blood is not a pleasant way to go. It is a slow death and feels much like suffocation. So I've read, anyway. It is not like I would know from experience.

"I need you to be certain. If I am to call an ambulance for you, I need to be sure that there will not be anyone else coming for me."

He thinks for a moment. "Twenty, definitely twenty. There's no one else."

"You are sure?" I stroke his hair.

"Yes! Now, please. . .!"

His stupidity is really quite pathetic and I almost feel bad for him. But he did come to kill me so I am not inclined to be merciful. "All right. Let me help you inside." I gently grab him under each arm and lift him to his feet. Once he is standing, in a move too quick for him to see, I reach for his neck and twist it all the way around as I did the first man. Killing him in this manner is a mercy, anyway. I could have left him to die slowly. He falls to the ground and I pick up the guy that I discarded.