After the Storm (Storm, #1)
M. Stratton
Dedication
To my parents, who supported me and loved me more than I ever knew.
Once I became a parent myself I understood everything you did for me.
I can never thank you enough.
I love you.
Prolo
gue
The hot summer air beat down on him as he walked out and breathed deeply. It’d been so long since he could breathe. His shoes crunched across the graveled parking lot as he thought of her. It was her fault he’d lost the past five years of his life. She had taken away his freedom.
His rage built with every step he took as he approached the waiting cab.
Carrying himself with the refined grace of the social elite, standing just over six-foot-two with broad shoulders, dark wavy hair, piercing blue eyes and chiseled features. A scar, about an inch long, ran from the outer edge of his left eyebrow to down below his eye, a souvenir he saw every time he looked in the mirror—courtesy of his father. But it didn’t detract from his beauty and, in fact, had the opposite effect. It gave him a dangerous flare that women found irresistible. He had his pick of any woman at any time and he loved that power. Or, at least, he had until he’d been stripped of all he knew because of her. Now he was a new creature.
Giving the driver his address he sat back and watched the city go by, trying to keep his mind off of her. Trying to focus on what had changed and what had remained the same, anything to distract from thoughts of her. He was thankful that he’d had enough money to ride out this whole unfortunate situation without losing everything and he chuckled to himself that she would never know what was coming. He smiled for the first time since walking out into the heat.
It had taken longer than he expected to arrive at his home, taking a deep breath he tried to keep his anger in check. He unlocked the front door and strode into his home, his castle. Everything was the same. There was limited time to do what he needed before heading to the east coast.
Climbing the stairs to the secret room that he’d built behind the master bedroom closet and held his breath before entering, wary someone might have found it. But if they had, things would be quite different now. It was a small room, only twenty-five square feet with walls covered in pictures of his women. One of the walls had miscellaneous “tools” he liked to use on his women. Another whole wall was dedicated floor-to-ceiling to women that he’d killed, ranging from images of them being out in public to inside their own homes. He paused for a moment as he remembered raping and killing each and every one of them. As always, it brought a calm over him. He lightly kissed each one before he turned his attention to the other wall. This wall belonged solely to her, the one that got away. It still angered him he’d been unable to finish what he’d started.
He crossed to his favorite pictures of her. One night, as she slept, he’d snuck into her home and taken her picture. A smile on her face; he liked to think she was dreaming of him. He’d hidden cameras and bugs in her home. It was daring, doing that while she was there, but he needed the extra thrill of possibly being caught. He closed his eyes, remembering going to her bedroom for one last look. It had taken everything he had to not have her then, but it was sometimes better to wait, and he had persevered.
There was one that was his absolute favorite of her, the one that made him hard every time. She was naked and tied to her bed just before waking, the moment before she figured out what was going on. The calm before the storm. A smile spreads across his face. He unzipped his pants, aching for the release, and started jerking off to the thought of doing it again without interruption. This time he would make sure he killed her while he was coming inside her. He threw back his head and screamed her name as he came.
CHAPT
ER ONE