The Vampire Obsession

Chapter 18

Evelyn

When I returned to the chalet, the twilight had just departed, giving place to a night sky formed by a deep purple gradient like a bruise, dotted with stars.

The patrol car that had dawned in front of my house was still in the same place. I found officer David behind the wheel, his face illuminated by a bluish light while he watched videos on his cellphone.

"Good evening, David." I opened a simple smile as I passed by his car.

He lifted his eyes from the screen.

"Good evening, Miss Cross. How was your appointment?" Before leaving, I had warned him where I was going, although I did not have that obligation.

"It was great. Are you going to stay here tonight? Shouldn’t you go home?" I asked, concerned about the man’s well-being. I did not want him to exhaust himself for my safety.

"I switched places with officer Jason today. His wife needed him, and I do not have any woman or children waiting for me at home." He shrugged with a carefree smile.

"But how will you sleep?"

"I sleep in the car on every patrol. But I imagine that spending the night in a warm and cozy chalet would be much more comfortable..." He laughed when he saw my embarrassment. I did not need a mirror to know my cheeks were flushed. "I’m joking, Miss Cross. Have you walked around the city yet? A lot has changed since you left," he asked, trying to move away from his direct advance.

I cleared my throat, turning my gaze to the chalet, eager to escape that conversation as quickly as possible. I already suspected where it would go.

"Not yet, I haven’t had time, but I intend to do that as soon as I can."

"We could eat something one of these days. A very sophisticated Italian restaurant opened downtown, the kind of place a woman like you would enjoy..."

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught his gaze wandering lustfully over my body, from my legs to my breasts.

Devouring me with his eyes, as if I would not notice.

David and I studied at the same school during our teenage years. However, while he had always been popular for being the captain of the team, I was the type of unnoticed student who preferred to spend recess in the library.

He never looked in my direction with interest back in school, but it seemed things had changed now.

David had sand-colored hair in a military cut, broad shoulders, and the physique of someone who went to the gym regularly.

Unfortunately, he had the bad luck of asking out a woman who did not care about any of his physical attributes.

In other words, he was nowhere near my type.

"Thank you for the invitation, David," I said awkwardly before he could continue with that. "But I really am not looking for any of that, I intend to return to New Orleans as soon as I finish my work here."

"I’m not looking for anything serious either, — Evelyn. It’s not like I’m asking for your hand in marriage. It’s just fun." His smile widened, but his eyes had darkened with something similar to fury.

David was not used to hearing refusals.

Ah, I had stepped on his ego.

What a pity, I couldn't care less about that.

"Again, I am not interested at all. Good night." I turned my back on the man and went back to the chalet.

Before closing the door, I could swear I heard him say to no one in particular:

"Whatever, you’re not even all that, you f*****g weirdo."

I leaned my back against the wooden door and let out a long sigh, relieved to finally be far from that disastrous conversation and completely alone.

At least, that was what I thought.

To make sure, I checked if all the windows were closed and wandered through the rooms with my gun in my hand. When I finally concluded there was no sign of a certain masked man in the house, I undressed and went to the bathroom.

After taking a shower, I put on my comfortable pajamas and set the alarm to wake me the next morning. Alan wanted me in his office for a meeting with Vincent tomorrow, where we would bring any insights and news about the investigation.

I imagined myself sitting at Alan’s desk, opening my notebook and making a PowerPoint presentation with everything I had to say about the case:

"How was your week? Mine was very funny. The killer we are eagerly searching for invaded my chalet, slid a knife over my body erotically and sutured my stitches. Yes, the stitches from the stab wound he himself gave me. I also discovered he carved a C for Cross on the chest of the last victim to get my attention. Romantic, isn’t it? Does anyone have any questions?"

Thinking about the horrified expression Vincent would make hearing all that made me laugh loudly alone.

If the peak of fun I had that day was a conversation with the voices in my head, maybe I really needed to leave the house.

For a moment, I almost regretted refusing David’s invitation.

Until I remembered how drastically his personality changed when I told him no. The regret disappeared instantly.

He was an asshole with possible anger issues. And I was definitely not missing anything.

I tried to remember when the last time I had a romantic date with someone was, and failed miserably.

Maybe in college.

But it had been quite a while since I graduated more than a year ago.

It was embarrassing for me to admit how lonely I was. And exhausting to try to change that, to find someone who understood my profession and was not afraid of me for it.

When I met someone new and told them that what I did for a living consisted of studying the minds of killers and their crimes, I always received the look.

That look that said: what the hell is wrong with this girl?

I did not blame them for that. I was aware of how disturbing my own interests were. Of how much of a f*****g weirdo I was.

Even so, I could not help wondering how it would be to have someone to share life with, to share every wandering thought that passed through my mind, to be my safe harbor after a stressful day of work.

Someone to press their body against mine when I was feeling lonely.

Before I could realize what I was doing, my fingers were running along the curves of my body softly. Until they slid under my sleep shorts and found the space between my legs.

I closed my eyes, sighing softly as I touched myself where I needed it most, sinking my fingers inside me.

Alternating between back-and-forth and circular movements that gradually intensified my pleasure.

I tried to conjure a silhouette beside me in the bed. To imagine that it was not my fingers, but someone else’s that were making my heartbeat accelerate and my legs tremble.

Just like that, the face of my psychologist came to my mind.

His black hair like raven wings.

His serious and indecipherable eyes always analyzing me with an implacable mixture of coldness and curiosity.

His aquiline nose, angular jaw and full lips perfect to be nibbled and sucked.

My fingers sped up, bringing me closer to ecstasy.

Until the image of Dr. Rayson vanished from my mind like a flame being extinguished by a strong breeze.

And was replaced by a silhouette dressed entirely in black.

A lean and muscular chest pressed against my back.

Strong and merciless hands disappearing between my legs.

Long fingers playing with me, rubbing my c******s in lazy circles before penetrating me.

Hitting a point inside me experimentally.

Repeatedly.

And then frenetically.

A loud sound echoed through the room.

I was too immersed in my own fantasy to realize it was my own moan.

In my head, I turned my face back and found a man wearing a black mask. A lascivious smile drew the curve of his lips.

"Was this what you expected when I slid a knife over your body, my dear?" the Ripper whispered at my ear, his lips brushing the lobe of my ear.

Then he laughed cruelly when I was unable to form any answer besides a dragged moan.

"And penetrated his fingers deeper into me, twisting them upward, finding the place that made me scream. His palm rubbing my c**t simultaneously.

"Are you going to come on a killer’s fingers, Evelyn?"

My orgasm hit me with the force of a hurricane and darkened my vision.

I opened my eyes when my fantasy escaped from me. I was breathing heavily, my hand sticky between my legs.

An overwhelming feeling, a mixture of guilt and shame wrapped around me like a shroud.

I had just come imagining the killer I hunted mercilessly m**********g me.