Page 11 of Controlled
Maybe I should leave now before I drew attention to my increasing carnal needs. What the hell. Maybe a touch of the classics was exactly what I needed tonight. I wasn’t called the Maestro for nothing after all.
I headed for our posh box, sitting down in one of the ten seats. We were directly in front of the stage, the box located on the first tier of balconies. It allowed for the perfect view of the stage.
The lights dimmed and two thoughts remained in my mind: the day’s activities, which hadn’t been anticipated forty-eight hours before, and the lovely dancer. I wondered if any of the female leads had nearly as much talent as she did.
While I sat quietly as the lights transformed the area, the simple costumes preferable over the garish tutus I’d seen so much of, I could already tell I would barely make it through the evening. To think I would need to pretend like I gave a shit for another two hours after the performance had concluded was disconcerting.
Styx gave me a look, laughing softly even as Emily elbowed him in the gut. Yes, it could be very enjoyable exploring our dark roots as we’d been taught to do all those years ago. I refused to lie to myself. Only this time, it would be on our terms, not our father’s. As soon as I envisioned the night inside my brutal mind, a smile crossed my face, a hint of dark anticipation reminding me of what had been indoctrinated into all three of us.
Brutality was a given.
Bloodshed a necessity.
The loss of life our choice.
I was already bored by the time the first group of dancers was nearly finished, checking my emails more than once to try to pass the time. Building a facility for the underprivileged in the art world was one thing. Tolerating the various creations was something else. When the lights dimmed again, I knew I needed a drink more now than ever.
Fortunately, the moment the stage lights shifted into a glorious blue color, my attention was brought to the surface and a waiter appeared out of the shadows.
“Can I bring you something, sir?” he asked. “Champagne?”
“Fuck, no. Scotch. The best you have.” I leaned forward as the female performer floated around the stage encircling her lone partner. They were both dressed simply, as often happened with the Joffrey dancers, and for some reason, I was as mesmerized by her performance as I had been the dancer from earlier. Only this girl was entirely different, classy yet bold, strong yet vulnerable.
The moment the first chord was played, all I could think about was the selection was the true essence of serendipity. The chosen concerto was the very one I used when I enjoyed perfecting my knife artistry, becoming the Maestro. There wasn’t a chance in hell that it was a coincidence. My entire body tensed, more electrified than it had been in ages, my mind spinning with the most beautiful yet dirty thoughts. The girl had been sent to me, a gift from the devil himself, a sanctuary in a world where few could ever understand my dark desires, my festering needs.
My breathing was labored, my blood pressure skyrocketing, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Perhaps my reaction was all about her performance, but I quickly found myself sitting on the edge of my seat, enjoying it much more than I’d thought I would. The raw realization that she was already mine continued to float back and forth, evil intentions in mind. With every turn, every leap, I could feel the tension, the need and the electricity rising from deep within the bowels of my system.
I twisted my hand around the railing, leaning over as far as safety and common sense would allow. When I felt a presence behind me, I barely turned my head.
“Are you okay, brother?” Styx asked.
“Look at her. Look. At. Her. She’s perfect. She’s the one.”
“The one?”
“My soulmate.”
“Oh, really? Do you know her?”
The laugh sounded as demonic as the thought and images building. “Not yet.”
“Be careful, brother. My only words of advice. When the hungry beast takes hold, he doesn’t let go. There is a very fine line between obsession and destruction.”
I’d heard those words before, the phrase one of the few lucid sentences our father had said over time. He’d coveted life as much as death, even though none of us had realized it at the time.
“It’s worth the risk,” I told him, returning my full attention to the stage.
“Just be certain she feels the same.”
As if I cared. I took what I wanted.
I hadn’t felt this way in as long as I could remember. A dancer? There was something powerfully comforting about the girl’s movements, as if she could calm the savage beast inside any man. I couldn’t blink or look away for fear of missing even a single step.
She flew across the stage, instantly hoisted into the air by her partner. As the muscular dude pulled her down, cupping her face with his outstretched hands, I was incensed, furious that he was touching her in such an intimate way. How fucking dare he?
The drink finally arrived and I all but snapped it from the waiter’s hand, moving to a standing position and taking a single long stride toward the railing of the balcony. As I leaned over, I could feel the vibrations from the music more than before, could gather the heat of the two dancers. I was like a man on a mission, hungering for the primal beast to come out and play.