Dark Creations: The Hunted (Part 4) (12 page)

He was enjoying the titillating banter that was transpiring but he could not ignore the hungers that gnawed at him.  Both needed to be satiated.  But only one would be satisfied at the lunch truck.

“Well then,” she said brightly.  “How does the grilled chicken and avocado wrap with olive oil and arugula sound?  It’s filling, but not loaded with calories.  And it’s my personal favorite as well.”

He was thrown by her talk of actual menu items, and the fact that she had not been rendered to putty in his hands by the attention he bestowed upon her.  He was certain she was not impervious to his charms.  No humans were.  He began to wonder whether she was, perhaps, an especially cunning human adept at the art of owning her beauty and seduction.  Whatever she was doing, it was working.  He felt compelled to ask her on a date.

“That sounds great.  I’ll have the chicken wrap, a bottle of water and your phone number,” he said and felt pleased with his fluid delivery.  He would have loved to have seen his face as he’d said it, but sadly, no reflective surfaces had been around.

“Really,” she said impassively.  “You can definitely have the wrap and the water.  That last thing though, I’ll have to think about that one.”

Her golden skin did not color as other women’s did.  Her features did not light up at the prospect of future contact with him.  She simply gave him a wry smile before disappearing into the food preparation station of the van.  Another woman appeared at the window and started taking other orders.  The ginger-haired goddess had been replaced by a portly, mustached woman whose body odor could be smelled from outside the van.  He hung around, waiting to see if the beauty who took his order would turn around and acknowledge him to see if he was appreciating her rear view, which oddly, he was.  But she did not turn.

Jarrod Richards was perplexed.  He could not fathom how a human being could be so attractive in the first place, nearly as attractive as he, and not jump at the chance to be in his presence.

When she returned with his sandwich and handed it to him, he noticed it had seven numbers written on it.  Her phone number, no doubt.  

“Are you available tonight?” he asked coolly.

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” she replied with matched calm.

“I’ll wait here while you do.”

She disappeared to the rear of the van again to consult her cellular phone.  She came back smiling and said, “I guess it’s your lucky night.  I don’t have anything planned for this evening.”

“I will meet you here at eight,” he said leaving no room for discussion.

“Yes sir, Officer Jarrod,” she purred.

“I never got your name,” he said playfully.  “You do have one, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.  My name is Michelle.”

“I will see you later, Michelle.”

He walked from the van to his patrol car galvanized by what had just occurred.  The flirting, the teasing, all of it had been electrifying.  He was not without the same urges as humanity.  He had needs as well.  Only he had not yet been authorized to mate.  He had existed, up until the present, denied sexual release.  He had not been bothered by the sanctions imposed by his maker; none of the other members had been the least bit exciting to him.  Humans had always been revolting, until he had met Michelle.  Meeting her had been an eye-opening experience for him.  It was the first time he’d met a person who, despite being human, may very well be worthy of his company.

The rest of his shift flew by.  He had been preoccupied with planning his evening with Michelle.  He left the station, showered again and changed before leaving to meet her.  As he pulled on to Mission Drive, he saw her from several blocks away.  She stood, like a bronze statue, gleaming and magnificent.  A red dress clung to her curves and, in the waning light of sunset, she looked ablaze.  He did not regret his decision to break protocol and see her socially.  He sincerely hoped they’d copulate at some point later in the evening.  She noticed him and waved.  He jumped out of his car and opened her door for her.  He could not help but notice her faint expression of surprise at his gesture.   They chatted cordially until he pulled in front of Trattoria Grappolo on Sagunto Street.  He’d chosen the quaint Italian restaurant for their date because it was intimate and the food was sumptuous. 

“Oh, I’ve heard of this place,” Michelle said. “How did you know I’ve always wanted to come here?”

“I guess we’re just similar creatures,” he replied truthfully as he held the door to the restaurant for her.

They were greeted immediately by a hostess who ushered them to their table.  Jarrod couldn’t help but notice how other diners stared at them as they passed.  Normally, he would be confident all attention paid was directed at him.  With Michelle on his arm, however, he was not so sure.  He guessed a percentage of them were admiring her, though he knew the percentage for her was far smaller than for him.  He observed how, like him, she did not dignify others with a return glance, as if she, too, was nauseated by the sight of them.  And they were, indeed, nauseating.  He worried he wouldn’t be able to eat a meal in the company of so many repellent people in such a confined space.  Fortunately, they were seated in a far corner of the room and he elected to sit with his back to the rest of the restaurant.  Michelle was the only person in his line of sight and that was exactly what he’d wanted.  Other than being forced to endure the unfortunate face of waiter intermittently, he looked at her exclusively.

“Are you from the area?” she asked trying to engage him in casual conversation.

“Yes.  I was born here.  Lived in Santa Ynez my whole life,” he admitted.  Of course, he left out the part about being born in a clandestine facility less than a year ago.  “How about you?”

“I was born in Brazil then moved to Los Angeles when I was sixteen.  I came to Santa Ynez about two months ago.”

Her exotic birthplace explained her unique appearance.  He wondered whether other women like her existed in Brazil.  He made a mental note to someday visit Brazil.

“Do you have family here?” he asked.

“Just my second cousin, but she’s leaving for Madrid in the fall.”

“That’s too bad.  When she goes, you’ll be all alone.”

“I have a lot of friends, guys mostly, but I won’t be alone.”

“And you’ll have me,” he heard himself say.

He didn’t know whether it was the dim lighting or the faint floral scent of her perfume, but he found her personality to be pleasant, enjoyable even, and that conversation flowed easily.  He had never experienced such a comfortable interaction before. 

“Maybe I will,” she said coyly.

Impulsively, he reached across the table and took one of her hands in his.  To his delight, her skin felt soft and supple, exactly as he imagined it would.  She smiled warmly at his gesture and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.  They remained, holding hands and chatting amicably for several minutes before the homely waiter reappeared to rattle off a list of special dishes the chef was offering.  Jarod had no interest in the list and interrupted the inane chatter by simply stating what entrée he wanted.  When Michelle told the server to double his order, he felt the urge reach across the table and kiss her on her perfectly shaped lips.  He refrained from doing so as such a spontaneous display of affection would have been garish in a public place.  But after they left the restaurant, he would not have to refrain. 

Their conversation flowed easily, naturally.  When their entrees arrived, he watched how she ate with impeccable table manners and did not finish every morsel on her plate as so many humans did.  To the contrary, she left a little less than half her meal behind and said it was too rich to finish.  Her restraint showed tremendous discipline.  Until the moment she’d set her fork down, he had long held that humans were incapable of discipline.  Her action exemplified his belief that she was exceptional, a diamond his keen eye uncovered bobbing among the sewage of society. He suggested dessert, just to test her will for fun.  She declined, solidifying his belief that she was the one, the one who would be fortunate enough to share his bed.  From the moment he had laid eyes on her hours earlier, he had secretly hoped she would be a sufficient mate.  During the time after their initial contact while he completed his shift, he had planned, if their date went accordingly, to take her to his house.  Situated on several acres of land and far away from any neighbors, he would have Michelle all to himself.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Michelle suggested as if reading his mind.

“It’s like you’re reading my mind, Michelle,” he admitted.  “Would you like to go back to my place?”

“I don’t know.  We just met.”

“The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable.  I guess I forgot that we just met.  I feel so
connected
to you, like I’ve known you for a long time.”

He was being completely truthful.  He had no reason whatsoever to lie to her.  Enticing her with deceitful promises or declarations was beneath him.  He had far more to offer than to lose.  He watched as her hesitant expression transformed.  His words, his honesty had clearly affected her.  She stared at him, weighing his words.

“You’re being honest aren’t you?”

Beautiful, well-mannered and smart, Michelle was exceeding his original expectation.  If she performed as he predicted she would physically, he would have to seriously consider mating with her indefinitely.

“I have no reason to lie to you,” he replied.

“Let’s go then,” she said confidently.

The drive to his home took less than twenty minutes.  Once there, he showed her around and discussed his various decorating choices then opened a bottle of chardonnay.  Although he abhorred the idea of poisoning his superb body with alcohol, he knew that humans consumed alcoholic beverages from time to time, particularly when in intimate situations.  He poured a glass for both of them and waited to see if she guzzled it as many did at eateries he’d visited.  Thankfully, she did not.  Rather, she left the glass where he’d placed it and sat on the couch beside him.  He liked seeing her perched on his furniture.  With her flawless posture, perfectly placed features and smooth glowing skin, she was a striking arrangement, like a well-placed statue.  He enjoyed looking at her almost as much as he enjoyed looking at himself.

“It’s funny,” she began.  “Most guys I go out with compliment me on my looks.”

“You don’t need me to compliment your looks,” he replied flatly.  “You know what you look like.”

“You’re right,” she smiled then leaned in to kiss him.

He had never kissed anyone before.  He had read about it and seen films that included kissing, but had never engaged in the actual act.  He knew he would excel at it; it could not be all that difficult if everyone was able to do it.  Before he had time to properly analyze the logistics of it, her lips were on his.  The sensation was not unpleasant as he’d imagined kissing a human would be.  In fact, it felt pleasurable.  Jarrod found himself feeling curious about what it would feel like to touch her glorious bronze skin while kissing her simultaneously.  He reached out tentatively and stroked her arm, found it as smooth and supple as her hand had been but far more firm.  The effect was thrilling.  He had never experienced the physical responses he was having.  His entire body tingled and hummed with excitement.  Michelle, brilliant perceptive Michelle, employed her above average acuity and somehow sensed the urgency of his newfound responses and climbed atop him, straddled him as she intensified the exploits of her tongue.  He answered her style by matching its intensity and allowing his hands to explore her upper body. 

When she did not push his hands away, he was all the more encouraged that she was the elite one he would reward with his company regularly.  He gripped her bottom tightly and stood.  She murmured something inaudible in his ear as he began walking to his bedroom.  His strength, combined with the urgency he was feeling, enabled him to reach his bedroom in a few short bounds.  Furnished with a mirrored ceiling and dark wood furniture, the room smelled of leather, of luxury befitting someone as magnificent as him.  He sat down, with her still on his lap, and fell back against the mattress.  She stopped kissing him briefly, looked down at him then began removing her dress.  He admired her figure sheathed in the thin garments she had worn in the hours he had known her, and could not wait to see it unclothed. But as the fabric fell to the floor, his fantasy of perfection came to an abrupt end.  Her stomach, which appeared toned and taut, protruded from the elastic waistband of her underwear nearly a half an inch.  He was at a loss for how he could have missed such an obvious flaw in her appearance and was utterly horrified.  He was about to end their encounter based on that glaring defect alone when she presented something so awful, so appalling, he froze in place, immobilized by the grotesqueness before him.  He stared, willing his eyes to look away, at another far more offensive defect.  After removing her dress, she removed her bra and placed in his line of vision a pair of breasts that were asymmetrical.  One appeared to be slightly larger than the other and thereby disturbed the balance of their overall presentation.  He felt nauseated.  Yet she writhed above him, smiling confidently, pleasurably, all the while her lopsided breasts bobbed mockingly before him.

Michelle was not what he thought she was.  She was defective, substandard and unworthy of his company.  She had somehow tricked him, deceived him into believing she was deserving of him.  He did not know how she had done it; how she had managed to falsely advertise her body so well.  Clearly her undergarments and clothing possessed some type of enhancement components as he was not easily fooled.  Her deception was inexcusable.  Jarrod began to tremble, his anger mounting.  She looked down at him and pursed her lips in a way he supposed was intended to be seductive as she arched her back and thrust her cock-eyed breasts closer to him.  He gagged involuntarily, but she did not notice.  Her behavior screamed that she did not feel the least bit remorseful for her duplicitousness, and that she was oblivious to him.  Infuriated, he lunged forward and grabbed her by the throat.  He had almost mated with a deceptive fraud and her deceit would not go unpunished.  He squeezed harder, watched as her green eyes bulged and her bronze skin reddened.  She tried desperately to draw breath, but he continued tightening his grip until he felt her body go limp.  When he was certain life had escaped her, he allowed her body to fall from his lap to the bed.  He looked up to his ceiling about to panic and call Terzini when the sight of his splendid refection distracted him, soothed him.  True beauty,
his
beauty, had always had that effect on him.  Gazing at the magnificent planes of his bare chest, his excitement returned.  With the return of his excitement came the realization that he would, in fact, be satisfied, and by the only person both capable of
and
worthy of touching his body: him.  But before he satisfied his excitement, he needed to purge his bed of the beast beside him.  His kicked his leg out hard and forced her body to the floor.  The soft thud indicated that Michelle was exactly where she belonged.  With her disgusting presence eliminated from his field of vision, he refocused on himself.  He allowed his hand to caress the expanses of his broad muscular chest, and stroke the downy black hair below his navel.  He smiled coyly at his reflection before his hand traveled lower to his groin.  With the unsightliness of his date’s appearance removed and the return of his arousal, the promise of true carnal pleasure was guaranteed.