Ghost~ DARK SERIAL KILLER ROMANCE ~title is a work in progress~ lmk suggestions

Prologue

The Ghost

Two Years Ago

She is magnificent.

Walking perfection.

A true piece of art.

And I can't wait to add her to my collection.

She exits her house, the same as she does every morning at eight A.M to start her morning run. As usual she wears a too tight tennis skirt, her sports bra straining against her chest as her D cups attempt to escape. 

After a week and a half of watching her, i can anticipate her every move.  This is my favorite kind of prey. The ones who like structure, order, routine. For most it was about the chase. For me it was about the specimen. About those dire few hours where I am in control of the soles I choose.

Their bodies, their fates, their deaths.

There is no greater ecstasy.

She follows the same path as she does every morning, and like clockwork she turns down the first right, heading towards the center of town. Her path is odd to say the least, the trek downhill to get to her destination, but uphill to return. At first I thought her to be ignorant, dumb, downright unable to make rational decisions. Women, and men, in today's world seem to lack that ability, and I was anxious she was one of them.

If that was the case, she wasn't good enough for me.

Something inside me won't let me stop though. I continue watching her even though she shows signs of what I like to call, modern mania. 

She steps inside the cafe on Main, and I patiently wait for her to return coffee in hand like she's done everyday. Except she doesn't emerge, not even after twenty minutes. I have no other option but to follow her inside.

My temper flares when I catch sight of her talking to a scruffy man, who was in no way her equal. She touches his forearm, then slides her hand slowly downwards until she meets his hand. She makes a pretty show of looking at his rings, all fake and obviously staining the pale fingers they're attached to. The fact she is giving him the time of day adds to my previous theories about her, but I can't look away.

I chose her, I own her, I will make her pay.

I don't get the chance. She throws away her Caramel Cold Brew, two cream and two sugar, and then exits the cafe following behind the unkempt man.

I decide then that both will die today.

So, I follow them.

Through the barely occupied parking lot of the establishment, and into a Silver Tesla. I don't panic at her getting away from me. I've had her bugged for a week and a half now, she is never out of my sight, and I am excited to see where she leads me.

As i drive images of what ill do to her flash in my mind. I imagine her brown eyes as they silently beg me for mercy. The trail of her blood from where i bite her lips. Even the whimpers she makes sound all too real. 

I hit the gas to drive faster. 

They don't go into her neighborhood, they instead go farther from town, into a gated community. Entering the premises unseen is far easier than it should have been, and in less than a few minutes after they arrived I was parked down the road.

They're no longer in the car, which is stationary in the driveway of a pristine two story house. I assume they're inside, and I make my way through the backyards of neighboring homes. I enter through the patio, sliding it open and shut without a sound.

Once I'm inside however, I'm completely exposed.

I stand there longer than I should, listening, waiting for any pinprick of an idea which part of the house they could be in. The lights are all off, and so far no sounds have been heard. Not even the moans of pleasure, which I was anticipating being the reason for her rendezvous with another man.

It's then that I hear the light, almost imperceptible footsteps approaching the kitchen. I only have two options, back the way I came, or the pantry to my right. I hope whoever it is isn't hungry, and shove the door aside and step in. It wasn't made for watchful eyes, and through the decorative slits I can only distinguish a single hazy shape.

"You think you've got me right where you want me, huh?" They whisper, the laugh that follows low and methodical. "Why don't you come on out so we can play?"

I stiffen, the voice is feminine, and as familiar as my own.

 She knows I'm in here watching her, but I say nothing. I give nothing away, I simply watch, and wait.

I can't help the sly smile that's spread across my face, though.

This will be the first time getting caught in the act, and the thought makes me harden.

"Betty?" A voice calls, growing closer and closer.

Betty? I second guess my tracking abilities, I wonder if I've placed myself in this pantry for no reason. My girl's name isn't Betty.

It was beautiful, sultry, irreplaceable.

Brielle Parker.

She laughs that same laugh, the one I will remember for the rest of my life.

"Let the games begin."

As the approaching heavyset footsteps grow near, I begin to become anxious. Two against one was do-able, enjoyable even, but I'm not prepared. I am weaponless waiting in this pantry like a sitting duck.

The next  sound surprises me, though.

It is familiar, welcoming, home.

Ripping engulfs the kitchen. The slash of a metallic blade as it punctures flesh over and over. I think for only a moment that someone else has stolen my prey from me, and my anger surges ready to handle whoever thought they could touch what was mine.

But then I hear her laugh.