THE LAW OF BEASTS 3: THE BELLY

By dapharoah69 All Rights Reserved ©

Scifi / Fantasy

Chapter 22: TRACED MY FINGER TIPS

His eyes were misty. “Through ye, for some reason, I am starting to become curious about Christ. Maybe I neddeth a change to get a different result because I’ve become too familiar with my present reality, and I’m rather bored, and reading about Christ does seem a rather pleasurable alternative, and I’m sure powerful and life-changing, but it’s too rushed and convenient for my own tastes. Maybe my curiosity will never mature into knowledge and breakthroughs. But what an exhilarating experience!

“What ye put into the universe coming back to the source. And in this case I was just a small child. I am getting to the point now. I’ve briefed ye enough, thank God.”

I sighed.

Was he committing blasphemy by that remark, when he didn’t believe in Christ or his Father, the Creator?

But he was right about one thing, what ye put out there comes back to ye in both positive and negative ripple effect.

His voice was full of zest suddenly, and breathed new life into me and I found myself relaxing.

I was sure he wouldn’t attack me or our unborn children in this state.

He was too mellow; he was nonchalant in ways I never thought of or seen before and now I’m refreshed in his image, a new page opening up before my eyes ready for me to type a word in the search box of his soul, and waiting to see what loads in the retinas of his arrestingly gorgeous, seductive bedroom eyes.

He felt the rising chemistry, but chose to ignore it. As in my case I had one huge lump in my throat to swallow, and I dipped like a starving anorexic giraffe chained to skulls and bones.

He said, making me tremble with ecstasy, “While they slow danced under an expensive chandelier they didn’t buy and couldn’t afford in the next twelve lifetimes, if such a thing will ever exist, who knows…stranger things has happened on this ball of life called earth.”

I floated up to him and studied his face as he spoke, the way his lips curved into gorgeous cheeks. His bone structure was immaculate, and redefined through the fading supernatural powers he possessed.

His body was well-toned, perfect! His huge nipples protruding half an inch from his chest, licking at the atmosphere, and his amazing abs were ripped above regular standard.

I just had to touch it! Oh my…

I reached for his face and a jolt startled me and I drew back my hand, catching myself, panting. He didn’t seem to notice, or he was just plain arrogant and conceited.

It was easy to idolize beauty when it spoke to ye like ye were a woman and never remembering the dark side of beauty and what it already cost me, and I’m sure it cost him.

I couldn’t have false idols in my life, and in that I smiled. I had to resist evil temptation.

I wasn’t kidding myself, and I didn’t for one instant forget who or what he was, and what he’s done.

The question was do I forgive him?

Yes, I do.

Was I ready to forgive and forget, like the great book says?

Yes. I. Was.

Amen.

I held my breath as his face cautiously and slowly approached mine. I was taken off guard; I didn’t see this coming from a mile away. I thought I had the grass cut low so I could see the slithering snakes and the hatched egg shells of their offspring, but one got by me anyway.

He kissed my quivering lips and looked deeply into my eyes.

Wet between my legs, I traced my fingertips along his slender arms with cuts of sparkling diamonds and muscle. I desperately looked around for shade because the light of diamonds from his creamy skin gave my eyes amnesia, momentarily, and I saw clearly once more, but not through the eyes of naivety as I had a second before.

I was admiring the man I wanted to make love to again, so my unborn can feel both parent explode in ecstasy, together as one, of whatever ye wanted to call it―love or doom, hmm…such a relative decision to make, one that can change the course of everything.

So choose wisely. Use thy heart, don’t decide with emotion. Emotional attachments hinder growth. Go with thy gut. Trust thy initial response and action and decision. It’s usually the right one.

He admired the shape of my waist and took me into his arms, running his slick tongue across the base of my neck, making me feel some kind of way. Yikes! I was actually enjoying this!

“My dear, sweet Kleopha. Mother of my heart, yet I’m forbidden from experiencing what is one hundred percent ye because of the clause in unseen contracts on both our souls, only yours is pregnant and free, for now, incarcerated in thy birthday suit, or another woman’s attire I should say.”

Did he just insult me? If he had I was too into him to let a petty remark stop me from studying him. I wasn’t too keen on what he said, what would rattle me was how he said it. If it was about money ye better make me see the dimensions of it when ye speak on it, or request assistance from me.

“My parents raised me in a home that belonged to another. It was an abandoned vacation home unkempt for years, with spider webs and thick black dust to prove it.

“The will left by the owner left a lump sum to be paid out for yearly taxes on the property, so no one bothered with it in 7 years. My parents discovered it when a visitor from out of town visited our church and talked about the place, whispering so low my parents heard everything he said anyway. The man said the place has been abandoned for years and what a beauty it was.

“He was later mugged and killed after he left the church, and a year before I was born they moved in this abandoned house and brought it to life, and pretended it was their home, a home I was born into, unfortunately. I heard of thieves. But a person that steals homes and passes them off as their own was a great American tragedy!

“A dead man once held the deed to the place, a place wrought with infamous history. Before the dead man became dust, a lonely skeletal figure and the letters R.I.P., he was a vicious shark, the stone cold heart itself. He signed his vacation home over to his son, a spitting image of him, before his son had him murdered, before he found out his son put a bounty of $150,000 on his father’s head.

“He ran a successful drug cartel from that vacation home, a home of lavish parties and famous vocal performances by ruthless female singers of the upper realms of music, a breathtaking fortress that $190 million dollars once passed through, crisp C-notes carefully packed and inventoried in steel crates, and sent to a famous banker that cleaned it all up, making it untraceable, an ex-government worker with federal secrets for sale to the highest bidder.

“The son shut down the cartel, retired its C.E.O., and destroyed the very soil the drugs were derived from. After the son died, his wishes were left in his will.

“Leave his home untouched, let it remain the way it was when he was last in it, doing what he does best, burn those he loved for money, and paid his assistants peanuts under the table and off record, for the heart of his business.

“This is the abandoned home my parents moved into and made their own. Rent free. The taxes up to date. They illegally turned on the water and the power. Found the dead man’s ledgers and account information and federal secrets and built an illegal business themselves, following the details of a special book found in the dead man’s safe, along with a string of pearls and old money in nine bundles of old-school one hundred dollar bills, crisp and gorgeous.

That’s when I was conceived.

I was made inside their neddeth for greed and deception. They lived free of the land and on someone else’s hard work, no matter how good or bad. After a while the parties stopped and they cut everyone off, alienated them all together until they, of their free will, stopped coming around and promised they never will again and they haven’t.

“The invited guests stopped coming. Cut my parents off with a bad taste in their mouths. When the parties stopped I was alone. I had no one to sneak out of my room and talk to. There was no more free knowledge to learn from the lips of the wise.

“I was scared most days. My parents slept during the day, for some odd reason, and at night the beatings on the thick iron security shutters placed on my window, with the controls stored in my bedroom closet, scared me to death. It sounded like something wanted to get inside and eat me alive. It took five years to get accustomed to it. And after a while it didn’t bother me ever again. The more It beat on the window the harder I snored.

“I couldn’t lie. The force behind the rapping on the shutters drove me mad, being that it started when I was two years old, back when I didn’t understand what the hell was going on, back when I wasn’t mentally equipped with anything outside of who am I, and why am I breathing, who art ye and what am I doing here?

“The love of my mother, before nightfall, saved me. To go against my father, a vagabond, a vampire, ruler of his home, a stolen vacation home, took guts and was a feat in itself. Mother was submissive to her husband and his lies and feelings of feminist action within himself, but she was a sassy and back talking heifer.

“Had dad known mom comes into my room every day when he sleeps―because he hates seeing any type of light, and sunlight will kill him―and lock herself behind my reinforced steel bedroom door (she was the only one with the key, and never kept it on her) praying over me and praying for me―he would have snapped her neck in 5 places.

“She always kissed my forehead knowing the smell of my blood could make her a Beast in an instant, But she resisted the urge to snap my neck and feed on me, her love protected me, and became an Avatar when dad rose from slumber after the rise of the moon, on perfect cue, on the mark, running for my bedroom door, beating on it and flying around the humongous vacation home to my bedroom window, and growing in a blinding rage to find reinforced steel protecting me in there as well, and Mama, pretending, playing the role, beating on the door and window with him so he doesn’t suspect a thing. Every night after my fifth birthday my father has tried to kill me with my mother inwardly hurting over her deception, but never regretting saving my life, so I don’t turn out like my father.

“I remember how I found out my parents were unusual. For my fifth birthday I had a fabulous cake with a huge 5 in the center. Home made by mother. The attention to detail, spectacular. She made it from scratch, without the use of measuring spoons and cups.

“They threw me a huge birthday bash, all expenses on them! Mortals love freebies so that was right up their alley.

“All of my dear friends were there from neighborhoods forty miles outside the vacation home. The vacation fortress was hidden in the center of the forty mile forest, twenty miles in, on the mark, were 100 foot gold gates. The parents of my friends and peers were also invited and bused onto the property. I was ecstatic! It would be the best day of my life!

“My parents planned and catered and created a party one could be proud of, one that my friends were envious of, but I wasn’t too proud to be showered with gifts. My life wasn’t distracted by fancy.

“Where was the love in knowing that with the sun up my mother has to fight temptations of killing me, her only son, but protected and saved me and spared me at the same time, in the same breath?

“My mother taught me about loyalty, and that showed me something about it as well, Kleopha; and how and when to properly use it.

“Ye don’t give everyone thy loyalty, and everyone wasn’t going to be loyal to ye.”

I asked, “So why did ye poison them?” My voice cracked.

I hadn’t noticed I was quiet for that long, or aware he spoke too much. I actually enjoyed hearing about his life and lost track of time the instant I put it out of my mind.

He was reliving the moment.

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