Kane by Kerry Dyer

Foreword

A savage tale of domination, obsession, erotic tension and relentless extreme horror.

Kane is an extreme horror novel driven by a brutal dark romance. Lyra arrives at the isolated wilderness of Maple Lake searching for a fresh start, only to become the obsession of Kane – a mute, masked killer who rules the forest through fear. What begins as a desperate fight for survival becomes a twisted psychological battle of dominance, obsession and surrender, where erotic BDSM power dynamics, grotesque violence and relentless terror collide. Kane is possessive, merciless and unstoppable. Lyra refuses to submit. The result is an uncompromising descent into obsession, survival and extreme horror.

Originally written in 2020, Kane was an experimental novel developed alongside Ultimate Horrotica. Together, they formed the creative foundations that would later inspire Dyerbolical: Immortalis. Ultimate Horrotica was subsequently re-released with The Thorn and His Rose, a collaborative work by Kerry Dyer and Brett Dyer, introducing characters including Demize, Banshee Baer and BaerNedi, who would later become part of the wider Immortalisverse. Although Kane is not part of the Immortalis canon, it offers a fascinating glimpse into the origins of many of the themes, character dynamics and ideas that would later be substantially expanded and reimagined throughout the Immortalis universe. Visit www.immortalisverse.com to explore the wider Immortalisverse.

Kane 1 – Chapter One: Abandoned Chase

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-1-chapter-one-abandoned-chase/

Emily looked up at the stars; it was such a perfect clear night. Her head was perched on a fallen log next to her newfound love, Ed. This was their weekend, their third date, and they wanted to be alone. The long-abandoned woods of Camp Maple Lake provided the ideal spot. The camp itself had closed, leaving only a series of abandoned cabins and a few private log homes scattered sparsely throughout the forest. Old folk in town warned of an entity haunting the area, but the young seldom heeded the warnings and would travel to see the legendary spot. Even the ongoing disappearances did little to thwart the small influx of guests.

Emily’s long, dark hair fanned across Ed’s sleeping bag. Emily was far too hot to snuggle down into her bag. The fire made from gathered wood blazed furiously and lit the shores of the water. Ed’s hand rested on Emily’s head and occasionally caressed her long locks as she smoked an exotic cigarette. After several puffs, she nonchalantly handed the smoke to Ed. Wind breezed daintily through the trees and created a few ripples on the lake.

‘You know what would be nice?’ Ed asked as the smoke was stubbed out. Emily shifted her gaze from the lake to meet his eyes.
‘What?’ she sniffed.
‘A beer!’ Emily pulled herself up moodily.
‘They’re back in the car,’ she moaned. They had left Ed’s Mustang up by the abandoned cabins and hiked along a trail through the woods to reach the lake. ‘And,’ Emily continued, ‘it’s dark. Anyone could be out there.’
‘No one’s out there,’ Ed laughed. ‘We’re alone.’ Emily tutted and swept her hair back, revealing her large, moody blue eyes, her lip dropped as she feigned sadness.

‘Go on, Emily,’ Ed continued, ‘and I will roll another one, then we can have some fun.’ He cupped her face and planted a lingering kiss on her lips. Emily smiled cheekily and let out a slight giggle.
‘OK, if I must,’ she teased, sweeping her tiny hands through his close-cropped sandy hair. She rose and brushed the dust and smatter of leaves from her jeans.
‘Bring the crate!’ Ed stated. Emily sniffed again, a snort of derision. ‘You know I love you,’ Ed hummed. Emily reached down for the torch that lay in the dirt next to Ed’s sleeping bag. She gave him a last peck on the cheek and uttered,
‘I’ll be right back.’

Ed watched as Emily disappeared into the shroud of the forest. He then turned his attention to his tobacco pouch and began to roll. The smell of crushed grass crept into his nostrils and he breathed in the aroma deeply as the sound of Emily’s footsteps melted into the distance. He sat up slightly and peered at the trail. The glow of the torch was gone. Ed finished rolling his smoke and lit it up, taking a deep, relaxing pull. His eyes partially closed, and he leaned back on one hand whilst smoking with the other.

The melody of the breeze was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a twig cracking at the edge of the woods. Ed twisted rapidly with a jump. He scanned the woods but could see nothing but darkness. Even the moonlight failed to illuminate the dense copse. Ed squinted and tried to look closer, but nothing emerged. He returned to his smoke, taking a deep drag. Again, the sound of a twig cracking broke Ed’s peace; he swung around.
‘Emily!’ Ed called nervously. The trees shuffled in response. ‘Emily, is that you?’ In an instant, everything stilled; the breeze stopped blowing and the trees stopped moving.

Ed gulped. ‘This isn’t funny, Emily,’ he called. He stared hard into the darkness, but nothing moved. A feeling engulfed him, a presence. He was not alone; the heaviness of someone’s eyes shivered through his body. Slowly, he turned back, taking in the surroundings; the wood’s edge, the trail, the pier’s wooden walkway and finally the shore. His body froze as his eyes took in a terrifying vision. There on the edge of the lake stood a giant of a man, whose hulking, heaving body was clad in a deep blue boiler suit. His face was hidden by a dirty hockey mask, and there in his hands he held a machete that glinted with a sinister malevolence in the moonlight.

Panic-stricken, Ed struggled with his sleeping bag. He had tightened the drawstring around his chest. The smoke fell from his hands and burned deeply into the bag. With one hand, Ed tried to flick away the smoke, and with the other he pulled vigorously at the string which held him. The masked man breathed deeply and angrily as he watched the fearful lad. Ed had heard of Kane, rumours, a myth even, but he had never suspected that the rumours could be true. Kane stepped forward. The murderous creature, the undead that roamed Maple Lake, had come to life.

Again, the creature stepped forward slowly, taunting his victim. Another noise from behind caught Ed’s attention. Emily’s footsteps as she marched carelessly back along the trail. Ed peered at the trail. ‘Emily, run!’ The shout echoed through the night and pounded Emily’s ears as she exited the trail. She stopped, dropping the crate of beer, a shudder trembled across her lips as she saw the monster striding towards Ed. Her feet froze to the spot. The monster advanced and ripped the string from Ed’s hands.

Kane lifted the sleeping bag from the ground in one hand. He shook it, forcing Ed deeper into the bag, and spun the string around, imprisoning the terrified lad.
‘Emily, run!’ Ed’s muffled voice called helplessly from the bag. Emily’s whole body shook; she wanted to run, but her feet would not shift. Kane marched towards Emily, towards the trees, carrying the fidgeting sleeping bag. Emily’s eyes widened as he closed in on her and a scream inadvertently escaped her lips.

Tears streamed down the girl’s face, and she forced herself to move. At first, she edged backwards, then with a hit of horrified adrenaline, she turned and ran back up the trail. Kane’s strides were great, but he stopped unexpectedly at the edge of the trail. His head tilted and turned to regard the sleeping bag; he pulled the bag over his shoulder and with one furious pelt, he beat the bag against the tree. The movement stopped and Kane slung the bag to the ground. The string released and Ed’s bloodied, ruined head was released and smashed on the path.

Kane resumed his strides at great speed; his hearing was sharp, Emily’s panting cry loud to his ears. Emily ploughed on. She was overwhelmed with terror; she desperately wished she was at home. The torch lay back near the lake amongst the debris of cans that had fallen from the crate. Only the clouding moonlight offered any light. Somehow, she had ventured from the trail and found herself running between looming trees. Kane’s footsteps thundered behind her; she tried to run faster, but her legs could not manage it.

Kane loved the chase; although duty-bound to his mother to cause suffering, he had a sadistic soul. The sight of a desperate, nubile girl trying to escape tantalised a deep longing within him. Their fear fed him and drove him on. Emily was no different, no different to the girls that had teased him as a child. She saw nothing but a monster; if they saw him as a monster, he reasoned, then he would act like the monster everyone expected him to be. He watched Emily’s path. Kane stopped; he would allow her some hope. The girl carried on running. Her feet ached, but he seemed to have stopped following her. At length, she slowed her pace and dipped into the shelter of a giant tree trunk. Emily looked behind her; there appeared to be no movement. Up ahead, she saw a light. Kane knew where the girl was headed. He drew his hand along the leafy forest floor and tugged at a wire. A hidden trapdoor flung open and he dropped down into the aperture.

Emily gazed at the light; light meant people. She could go for help. Perhaps there was a chance that Ed was still alive; perhaps he could be rescued. Emily looked over her shoulder again. She was certain he had gone. She crept towards the light, using the tree trunks to camouflage her. There in a clearing sat an isolated log cabin, but there was light. Emily hoped that someone would be at home. Her pace quickened as she approached the door, and by the time she was on the porch, a frenzy had taken hold.
‘Help!’ she cried. ‘Someone help me!’ Her fists pounded at the door, but no one answered. Behind her, the trees rustled in the wind; the noise startled her, and she gave the door one big shove.

The door opened with a groan and some stiffness. Emily used her shoulder to barge it a little farther and darted into the cabin, slamming it behind her. She found herself in a scarcely furnished room; an old sofa, a table with a couple of rickety chairs and a wood stove. Candles lit up the room, and a fire burned in the stove. ‘Hello,’ Emily called as her frenzy calmed, ‘hello.’ No one answered. At the farthest side of the room was an archway leading to the rest of the cabin. Emily hurried over to it and found a hallway with doors leading elsewhere on both sides. At the far end of the hall, built into the stonework, a dark crevice loomed, surrounded by candles.

A bad feeling consumed Emily; this was no ordinary house. She crept curiously towards the crevice. Her body trembled. She could make out something perched in the darkness of the hole. She stared deeply, trying to make out what was hidden. She focused her eyes; her toes met the base of the wall and Emily had to slightly raise herself on her toes to get a better look. Hollowed eye sockets stared back; hollowed eye sockets sunken into a wizened face. Emily screamed and stumbled backwards. She lost her footing and fell to her knees. Sobs gurgled from her throat and a trapdoor in the floor flew open. Kane shot up as if propelled by a supernatural force. His chest heaved heavily as he stared through one masked eye at her.

The machete still dangled from Kane’s hand. Emily shuffled backwards away from the monster until she was pressed against the wall. Mascara streamed down her face and her legs buckled against her belly. There was nowhere to run. Kane twisted the machete in his hands, exhibiting its sharpened edges. One hefty leg dropped and kicked closed the trapdoor. The space between them seemed so much less than it had when the door was opened. He moved towards her; Emily pressed her head against the stone wall. The machete’s tip brushed against her leg and dragged across her thigh onto her waist. Kane loved to hear his victim’s sob. The blade pressed into her cheek and dug into her hair as he teased her.

In an instant, Kane’s demeanour changed; his free hand grasped Emily’s hair into a bunch and pulled her off the floor. For a second, she dangled, flailing in mid-air. Then the machete blade sliced into the skin behind her ear. Blood trickled over her cheek, and as the blade moved across her forehead over her eyes, agonised squeals filled his delighted ears. He tightened the bunch and with one cruel movement removed the trespasser’s scalp. Her limp form fell to the floor. The machete’s tip dangled close to her barely-moving chest. Kane raised the weapon above his victim and drove it down with superhuman strength.

Kane 2 – Chapter Two: Log Cabin

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-2-chapter-two-log-cabin/

Lyra had secured the best of deals. She had made a name for herself in the New York art scene, only to realise that she was unhappy with city living. Over time, her art had started to suffer, and she had lost the early originality and talent that propelled her career. Her family lived on the West Coast, so she had no ties to New York, and as a freelancer she reasoned that it did not matter where she lived, as long as she was able to work in solitude. Her early paintings conveyed a darkness that had somehow disappeared in the lights of the city. Lyra knew that the darkness was still there and still needed to escape onto the canvas, but there were far too many distractions in the New York nightlife. It was easy to become submerged between promotional events, exhibitions and, of course, the infamous after-parties. At heart, Lyra was really a small-town girl and the fast living proved too much.

The talkative realtor, Amy Penrose, had shown her plenty of houses strewn around the wilderness of New Jersey, but none matched Maple Cabin. Lyra had fallen in love with the cabin at first sight. The property stood empty in the forest wilderness of Maple Lake. It was a simple home; open plan with two bedrooms and a bathroom. One bedroom, Lyra hoped, would serve as a studio. The porch led to a small private beach at the edge of the lake, and the woodlands encompassed the rear of the cabin. The cabin came ready-furnished and at an excellent price. Lyra could not resist, and the realtor rushed the paperwork through much faster than expected. It seemed the perfect deal.

Lyra, having already travelled across the country to New York, already owned a Jeep and trailer which proved ideal for the move. Her art equipment took up the majority of the trailer, and her clothes and a few personal belongings crowded in the back of the Jeep. She had planned to leave at the close of the week, Friday the 13th of September. However, Amy had insisted that she would be unable to meet up that day and Lyra had to move the date back to the Thursday. Again, the realtor, who had been overly helpful during the sale, proved awkward in almost demanding that Lyra arrive by midday as she would be unavailable in the evening. Lyra obliged and arrived in the nearby town of Forest Green by noon as promised.

Most of the legalities had already been dealt with by the lawyers, and all that remained was for Lyra to collect the keys. The town was small and there was ample parking for her outside of the office, which looked more like a grocery shop than a realtor’s office. Lyra wasted no time and immediately called into the office. The customer area was empty, and she could hear raised voices in the back room; a man and a woman who she was certain was Amy. After a few minutes and feeling a little awkward having intruded on an argument, Lyra shook the old bell that sat on Amy’s desk. The voices quietened and Amy stepped through the partitioning door. She appeared flustered, but quickly straightened herself and sat in the chair opposite Lyra.

Lyra nodded towards the back room.
‘Problems?’ she queried. Amy forced a smile.
‘No, no problems. Just professional differences.’ As she spoke, a man in a sheriff’s uniform barged out of the back room. Amy grimaced and spoke quickly.
‘I have the key; the generator has been tested and there is a working water supply at the cabin. Is there anything else you need to know?’ As Amy spoke, the sheriff strode over to Lyra and stood uncomfortably close with his arms folded. Lyra glanced at him and then back to her realtor.
‘I don’t think so. I’m guessing the local stores and banks are here in town, and I have my phone for internet connection.’ Amy looked quizzically.
‘Honey,’ she drooled, ‘you may not get internet connection out there. It’s a bit haphazard.’

The sheriff continued to stare down at Lyra. Amy glanced up at him and then uttered,
‘I’ll get you them keys,’ before shuffling out of her chair and into the back room. The sheriff chewed at something.
‘Missy, we don’t get many outsiders here,’ he stated coldly. Lyra looked up at his imposing form.
‘Oh?’ she replied, not really knowing what to say to the stranger.
‘No, we certainly don’t,’ he continued. ‘Causes trouble, you see?’
‘I don’t intend to be trouble,’ Lyra retorted. ‘You won’t even know that I’m there.’ The sheriff bent down to Lyra’s ear.
‘Lady,’ he whispered in a change of tone that surprised Lyra, ‘I’m trying to help you here. There’s better places for you to be living. I’m giving you some advice. Go back to where you came from.’ An unease crept over Lyra; for a second, something felt terribly wrong. The sheriff held her gaze until Amy reappeared.

‘Found them!’ the realtor exclaimed before noticing the sheriff crouched above her client’s ear. ‘Isn’t your lunch break over, Sean?’ Her tone was abrupt. The sheriff rose to his full height, shook his head and marched out of the small building. Lyra stared after him with her mouth open. ‘Don’t mind him!’ Amy interrupted.
‘He said I should leave,’ Lyra muttered, not so much answering a question but thinking aloud.
‘There’s some funny old folks in town,’ Amy snapped. ‘They have funny ideas! Superstitious, you know?’
‘Not really,’ Lyra replied honestly. ‘No.’
‘Every town has its legends, and some folks are taken in by them.’ Amy appeared to be lost in thought.
‘What legends?’ Lyra asked, waking her from her reverie.

Amy looked at her client. The sale was over, and the deeds and, more importantly, the money had been exchanged. Amy sighed and looked at her client. Lyra swore in that moment that there was pity in Amy’s eyes, a sadness, maybe even guilt. Amy shook her head and let out a strained laugh.
‘I guess it won’t hurt to tell you!’ Amy smiled. ‘Years ago, back when there was a summer camp at Maple Lake, a boy drowned. His name was Kane.’
‘That’s sad,’ Lyra whispered.
‘Legend has it that he came back from his watery grave and haunts the woods.’ Lyra raised her eyebrows; she had heard urban legends in the city, and this wasn’t that different. A wave of guilt washed over Amy; she knew the truth and she had sold this young woman a cabin in his wilderness.
‘They say he saw his mother murdered and kills to avenge her death and his own,’ Amy stammered.

There was a long silence as Lyra absorbed Amy’s words. The silence was broken by Amy releasing a stifled cough.
‘How about I go up there with you, just to make sure you’re settled in?’ Lyra smiled.
‘There really is no need. I am fine. I don’t believe in ghosts, ghouls or any other nonsense.’ Amy bit her lip as if she wanted to say something, but just could not find the words. A sigh escaped from her lips and reluctantly she stated,
‘I think I will accompany you, just to get you settled in.’ Her eyes flicked to the window. ‘Bob, my husband, has the car, so I can go up with you and get a lift back into town from Harlon.’ Lyra’s eyebrows knitted. ‘Harlon is the old caretaker. He stayed up there after the camp closed.’ Lyra smiled a smile of relief.
‘You see, Harlon lives up there and he’s OK,’ she chuckled. Amy’s lip twitched. She wanted to say Harlon had tried to save Kane from drowning or that Harlon was now Kane’s caretaker, but the words sounded ridiculous. Harlon was a hermit; perhaps he had been absorbed into the Kane legend.

Lyra’s Jeep bounced along the disused road trail through the woods. The town seemed a world away, and so did the legend of Kane. She was home; the woods were pure paradise, home to a diverse array of colourful trees and bushes. Ultimately, they led to the shimmering lake and Maple Cabin. Lyra knew that she could get lost in the wildlife forever; it was everything she had hoped for, a different world; her isolated Eden. The Jeep fitted aptly by the side of the cabin, and Amy proceeded to help Lyra unload her belongings. Lyra was used to moving and had loaded everything meticulously so that it could be easily unpacked and put straight in its new place. Her clothes were hung in her closet, kitchenware put in the cupboards and, most importantly, her art equipment placed in her new studio.

Once the last items had been put away, Lyra loaded a bucket full of pre-ordered wood into the stove and lit it up. The two women slumped on the sofa, exhausted.
‘I told you everything would be fine, but I really appreciate your help,’ Lyra said, pulling her blond, bobbed hair away from her face. Amy smiled; the guilt was still gnawing at her.
‘No problem!’ she replied casually. ‘If you need anything,’ Amy hesitated, ‘anything at all, Harlon is your closest neighbour.’
‘I didn’t see any other houses.’
‘No, you won’t. Not from the road anyway, but there are three other cabins in the area. Harlon is your nearest. You can’t reach it by road, but there’s a trail by your beach and his place is about a five-minute walk up that trail.’ Amy sighed. ‘There are a few trails. Better stick to your own one.’ Lyra smiled at her ongoing superstitious nonsense.

‘Who do the other houses belong to?’ Lyra asked as she handed Amy a mug of coffee from the freshly boiled kettle.
‘Marietta lives on the other side of the lake,’ Amy explained. ‘She likes to keep to herself and it’s best not to go up there.’
‘And the other cabin?’ Lyra persisted.
‘Empty. Best not to be messing around there too.’ Lyra wondered if everyone in Forest Green was as superstitious as Amy and the sheriff. As they sipped their coffees, the cabin darkened. Amy fidgeted nervously and looked at her watch. ‘I need to be going now. Come on and I will show you the trail,’ she beckoned, rising to her feet. Lyra followed her realtor out of the cabin to a foot trail that was hidden snugly between the trees past the road trail.
‘Straight up there. Five minutes and you will find Harlon.’
‘OK, and thanks for all that you have done.’ Amy grimaced and sighed.
‘No problem.’ The women shook hands and Amy started up the path.

Lyra stood alone on the beach; she cast her eyes over the lake. It was perfection. The sun was rapidly disappearing, blazing a trail of dusk light across the water. Lyra breathed in the air; it was so fresh, so unlike the city. She was finally home. At length, she sauntered back to the cabin and flopped wearily on the sofa; between the traveling, the unpacking and the crazy rumours, the day had been long. She closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

‘Harlon!’ Amy called. Harlon’s cabin was not like Lyra’s; it was in poor condition. A few rusting vehicles sat strewn around the outside and the generator rattled outside angrily with age. ‘Harlon!’ she called again. The door of the cabin hung off a poorly erected porch and clattered in the breeze. Amy rapped on it loudly. ‘Harlon, are you in there?’ She waited uneasily. Amy hated being near Maple Lake; she cursed the guilt that had racked her and driven her to be in his wilderness. She grabbed the door mid-rattle and swung it open. Harlon was a notorious hunter and dead animals hung from the beams in the scruffy sitting room. Amy waited; there was no answer. The door suddenly flung open in the breeze and then slammed shut again. A nervous gulp rose in Amy’s throat; she swallowed and edged towards the door as it again swung open.

The woodland suddenly seemed dark as the evening set in. There was no sign of Harlon. Amy looked at her watch; the day had flown by and she must have lost track of timing helping Lyra to unpack. It was gone six and eerily dark. Thick black clouds hung over the cabin as Amy edged out of the door. ‘Harlon!’ she shouted desperately. The trees surrounding the cabin rustled in the whistle of the wind. Amy thought rapidly; if she headed back to Lyra’s, then Lyra could take her back into the town before the night set in. Her high heels tottered back onto the trail and she scurried towards the beach as fast as she could. Branches danced around in the moonlight, and the trees seemed to close in behind her as she moved, forcing her to quicken her pace.

A faint moonlit glow drove her on as the water came into view. Relieved, she stopped for breath at the end of the trail. Her eyes closed as she sighed deeply. As she opened them, she noticed a figure standing in the water, almost emerging from the lake. His masked face was fixed in her direction; his hulking body grew from the depths. Kane raised his right arm rigidly from the water. Amy whimpered and backed away, rearing into the tree behind her. She jumped at the feeling, turned to the tree and quickly turned back to the monster before her. In his right arm, he was holding a harpoon. Amy opened her mouth to scream, but the spear moved swiftly through the air and drove through her eye, pinning her lifeless corpse to the tree behind.

Kane 3 – Chapter Three: Broken

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-3-chapter-three-broken/

It took one swift movement to remove the spear from the woman’s head. She knew not to come into Kane’s wilderness; he had no sympathy for her. Watching her fumble down the path in a state of panic had proved more than arousing, but the cleanup after each kill was a nuisance. He slung the flaccid body over his shoulder and headed along Harlon’s trail to a trapdoor that lay between Harlon’s old vehicles. Kane flung open the door and dropped the woman’s body and harpoon into the hole. He would deal with it later. Once the body hit the floor, Kane kicked the door shut and pulled his machete from the leaves at the base of the trapdoor. He examined the blade until the sound of the door banging disturbed his thoughts. Kane looked up to see the old man leaning on the rickety door of the cabin, whiskey bottle in hand.
‘I told her not to sell the place,’ Harlon rambled. ‘Told her I did.’ The old man raised his bottle and took a swig of the drink. When he lowered it, Kane had vanished.

Kane cut across the woods; he knew the woods well and it was quicker to walk through the forests than around the trails. Quicker and more subtle. His peace had been interrupted more than usual; for the past week, servicemen had been coming and going to Maple Cabin. Some only visited for a short time, did their job and left, and others never left. Kane tolerated Marietta, the old woman who lived on the other side, as she kept herself to herself and was an old friend of his mother’s. Harlon also kept himself to himself and helped Kane when needed. Moving another person into his wilderness was strictly prohibited, just as he forbade visitors from using his land to indulge their carnal needs and personal addictions. Harlon had warned him about Lyra for some time. He had heard from other townspeople that this woman had purchased the cabin and subsequently informed Kane.

Kane’s feet crunched on the forest floor as he stormed towards the cabin. Harlon had warned the sheriff. Some people saw Harlon as a crazy old-timer, but the sheriff knew better. Kane had spent the day hidden in the shroud of the trees, watching the woman from afar. His fury boiled at the sight of Amy Penrose assisting an outsider to invade his territory. Now that she had been dealt with, he could deal quietly with this woman, Lyra. She was a stranger; no one would notice if she vanished. She would just be another disappearance in Maple Lake, another reason for people to stay away and leave him in peace.

Maple Cabin was poorly lit when he arrived; the door was locked, but the shutters to the studio had been left open, an oversight on Lyra’s part. Kane climbed through the open window. A lamp glowed on a stand in the corner. The majority of the room was taken up by a large folding table, which was covered in partially completed paintings, dark paintings. Some were of demons, others nightmarish landscapes and abstract designs. One piece particularly attracted his attention; a man with two faces, plain white on one side and distorted on the other. Kane touched it with his free hand and tilted his head in awe. The image spoke to him, a distorted monster and a blank canvas all in one being. For a while, time stood still; he was lost in the picture and all that it represented.

Lyra shuffled in her sleep. The sofa was comfortable, and she burrowed subconsciously down into it. Her shifting caused the legs to creak against the floor; at the sound, Kane’s head spun around. He breathed deeply but took another look at the painting before tightening his grip around the machete that dangled from his hand. Light from the lamp echoed into the front room as Kane pushed the door open. Lyra lay asleep on the sofa. He could kill her quickly and rid himself of another nuisance invading his land.

He strode over to her. Lyra did not move; she was lost in a deep sleep. Kane raised his machete and prepared to strike. She had drawn the two-faced man; he thought of the painting. It troubled him. Lyra’s long, thick eyelashes flickered as she dreamed. Kane’s fist clenched about the hilt. Lyra shivered gently. The warmth of the day had ebbed away, and she had fallen asleep without a blanket or any kind of comfort. Her teeth scraped her deep plum lips as her body reacted to the cold. Only black leggings and a crop top covered her, and through the top, Kane noticed how cold she was. He would be merciful in taking her; he would make her death quick and painless. With one fast, sweeping movement, he drove the blade down towards her throat, but his wrist locked before it touched the skin. His fingers squeezed tightly, and in a strange fury, he pulled the weapon away from the sleeping woman.

This feeling was something new; all Kane had ever felt was anger, revenge and a desire to inflict pain. A new feeling overwhelmed him, something he could not yet fathom. This young woman lay defenceless against him, ripe for the taking, and yet he could not bring himself to harm her. Kane knelt down beside her and lowered the machete to the floor. Instinctively, he removed his right glove and very slightly brushed his hand against her cheek. She felt soft and warm. He moved a stray strand of hair from her face and ran his fingers across her head. She shivered again. She was getting colder and the night air could be treacherous. Kane rose and trod carefully to the other closed room, which he presumed was her bedroom. There he found her bed made with a thick quilt. He carried the quilt to Lyra and laid it gently over her body. Lyra’s hand gripped the blanket and she brought it to her mouth for comfort. Her legs curled under her and her breathing deepened.

Kane wanted to leave, but something compelled him to stay and watch her. Usually, he indulged in the delights of watching the life leave his victim’s eyes, yet he found himself fixated on watching Lyra breathing and sleeping. Again, he knelt down next to her. Deep inside, he hoped that she would not wake as he feared that his natural instinct to kill would overwhelm him and he would lose her. Time seemed to slow down as Kane gazed on his obsession. The grandfather clock ticked hypnotically in the corner of the room, complementing the rise and fall of Lyra’s ample breasts. Intermittently, he would lift his machete and stroke her slumbering body with the potent blade; this gave rise to a new concoction of sensations which both confused and tantalised him. As the midnight chimes rang from the clock, Kane’s trance was broken by the glare from two headlights.

Bob Penrose had waited for Amy to return to the office. He had specifically warned her to stay well away from Maple Lake. Like Sean, he had grave reservations about selling Maple Cabin. He knew that there would be consequences for the new resident, but the extra income was needed to escape the cursed town. His stomach sank as the day turned into night. Sean had warned them against dealing with any property in the Maple Lake area, so he knew he would receive no help there. At length, Bob decided, albeit reluctantly, to venture into the wilderness and find his wife.

Lyra’s dreams were abruptly interrupted by bright lights and the sound of a car rumbling in front of her home. She sat up with a start and instantly jumped with fright. Her body was covered with a duvet that she had not put there. She stared about her and, for a second, she swore that she saw the shape of a man disappearing into her studio. She stared after the figure. Outside, a car door slammed, followed by a loud knocking at her door. She looked from the door to the studio and back again before rushing over to unlock the door.

‘Hi, Lyra. I am sorry to bother you,’ the man began. ‘I am Bob Penrose, Amy’s husband, and I know it’s late, but I wondered if Amy was still here?’ Lyra stretched and yawned.
‘No, she left hours ago.’ There was a momentary awkward silence, and Lyra swore there was a look of sadness on Bob’s face. Her thoughts quickly turned back to the duvet and the figure.
‘As you’re here, do you think you could help me?’ Lyra asked. ‘It will only take a minute.’
‘What’s the problem?’ Bob asked, distracted by the disappearance of his wife. Lyra smiled nervously.
‘This may sound silly, but I fell asleep and when you woke me just there, I had a duvet over me.’
‘So?’ Bob questioned, half-knowing the answer.
‘I didn’t have one when I went to sleep and the door was locked. Nobody was here, and when I woke up just then, I swear someone was here.’

Bob gulped; he had expected to come upon a worse scenario. He suspected that Lyra would receive an unwelcome visitor, but like his wife, he felt some responsibility for the predicament Lyra was now in.
‘I will have a look,’ he muttered, ‘but then I have to go and find Amy.’
‘It’s this way,’ Lyra responded and signalled for him to follow her. The window was fully open; she must have forgotten to close it, but other than her equipment, the room was empty. Bob took the initiative and closed the window.
‘Anything else?’ he snapped.
‘No, and thank you,’ Lyra replied. ‘I will be fine.’

Bob had no doubts that his wife had met with an unpleasant end. She had been warned to stay well away, and he knew he had to leave before he met with an equally unpleasant end. He turned on his heel and started for the door, but the guilt bothered him, and he halted in the doorway.
‘Lady, you lock your doors and windows. Strange things happen out here.’ Bob did not even turn his head to look at her, and once the words left his mouth, he hurried to his car, turned on the beach and drove erratically away. Lyra locked up behind him and dragged her duvet to the bedroom to resume her sleep.

Grief formed tears in Bob’s eyes; this had not been the plan. The plan was to sell the property, take the money and run. He was angry with Amy for putting her life at risk and heartbroken. Under his breath, he cursed himself for ever agreeing to sell Maple Cabin. Rain started to pour from the heavens, pelting his windscreen; he was obliged to put the wipers on at full speed. The car juddered along the track and slid slightly on the wet soil. He pumped the accelerator, trying to navigate through the dirt whilst struggling to see through the soaked glass. His foot suddenly plunged on the brake pedal.

Between the light of the headlamps stood a giant of a man, masked, still and staring. Bob’s stomach knotted; people who saw Kane seldom lived to tell their story. His hands gripped the steering wheel furiously. He shifted the car into reverse in an attempt to escape the monster. The vehicle only managed to travel a few yards before the wheels wedged in the mud. Bob pressed the accelerator hard; a whirring sound hummed in his ears, but the car did not budge. He turned his head back to the road before him. The monster was gone. Bob caught his breath and looked about him, but the rain was too heavy, and his vision was blocked.

Few options presented themselves; the only escape route seemed to be on foot. Bob turned off the ignition and carefully opened the door. Kane was nowhere to be seen, so he climbed out of the car into the sopping wet dirt. As he did, the monster leapt from the roof of the car and, with two huge, gloved hands, grabbed his victim’s head and dragged the struggling man to the front of the vehicle before ramming his head through the windscreen. Crushed glass pierced Bob’s pounding head. Barely alive and barely conscious, he attempted to struggle. He was no match for Kane. The two hands pressed firmly against his temples; the pressure was unbearable as Bob’s skull caved under Kane’s crushing hand and an eyeball was forced from its socket.

Kane 4 – Chapter Four: Revealing

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-4-chapter-four-revealing/

Kane could have returned to Maple Cabin; he could have spent the night watching the woman who had invaded his home, but there were bodies to dispose of and vehicles to submerge in the lake. Evidence would attract outsiders, and he wanted to be left in peace. With a sigh, he dragged Bob’s body into the vehicle, slammed the door and, with brute strength, pushed the car back down the trail towards the lake. He hoped that Lyra would be asleep; if she woke and found him disposing of Bob, she would be a threat, and then he would have to act to remove that threat. The thought of watching her run screaming from him sent a shiver through his body and flooded him with an urgent warmth. Her time would come, but for now, he would let her sleep.

After the strange events of her first day in Maple Cabin, Lyra decided, for her own peace of mind, to check on Bob and Amy. She drove into the town mid-morning, expecting to see the realtor’s shop open, but she found it closed. She tried hammering on the door, but no one answered. The sheriff’s station was only a few doors down; it was a small town, and between Amy’s disappearance and her vision of a man’s presence in her home during the night, Lyra thought it prudent to report matters to Sean. She hurried along the sidewalk and barged into the sheriff’s office.

The front desk was empty. Lyra banged on the bell to call for attention. She waited and then banged hard on it again several times. At length, Sean emerged from the back room.
‘Thank you,’ he moaned gruffly. ‘Thank you for checking the bell works.’ He seemed tired and irritable. He looked her up and down. ‘Oh,’ he huffed, ‘it’s you.’
‘Yes,’ Lyra replied. ‘I need to report something.’ She stopped and cast her mind over the string of events that had led her to the sheriff. ‘I mean a few things, maybe.’

The sheriff raised a quizzical eyebrow.
‘I kind of expected that,’ he barked. ‘Well, to be honest, I kind of expected not to see you again, missy.’ Lyra was taken aback. Was this more superstitious nonsense?
‘I think someone was in my house last night, watching me.’
The sheriff knitted his eyebrows.
‘Watching you, you say?’ Sean wondered how this woman was still alive; he knew of Kane. It was his job to keep the peace; some would say to cover up the mess.
‘Yes, I woke up and there was a man in the house, and I think the Penroses are missing.’ Sean thought carefully before responding; the last thing he wanted was to create alarm in the small town.

‘Now, why would you think they have gone missing?’ he barked with an impatient tone to his voice.
‘Amy left my house yesterday at six and Bob turned up looking for her at midnight, and just now I went to their shop and it’s closed.’
‘Hmm,’ Sean mused. ‘It’s closed, little lady, because they left town, is all. You were their last sale and they planned to leave.’
‘At midnight? They planned to leave at midnight?’
‘As I said, they waited a long time to sell the place and, well, you see, it’s their retirement, so they went.’
‘What about Bob looking for Amy at midnight?’ Sean sighed.
‘Amy liked a drink; she probably had a last one before they left.’
‘But,’ Lyra interrupted, much to the sheriff’s annoyance.
‘Look, lady, they left this morning; I saw them leave and they were both fine.’

Sean’s tone stunned Lyra into a brief silence. She was clearly getting nowhere with this line of questioning, and Sean seemed adamant that the couple had moved away. Surely, if there was a problem, he would investigate?
‘What about the man in my house?’ Lyra’s lip started to tremble; she felt out of place in the strange town. Sean sighed. The poor woman looked so vulnerable and terrified. His duty as sheriff of Forest Green was to ensure the safety and quiet of the town and keep outsiders and other irregularities under wraps. ‘Lady, I told you yesterday to leave.’ Sean’s tone had changed from a standoffish aggression to an imploring sympathy.

‘I can’t, sheriff,’ Lyra mumbled. ‘This is my home. This is what I’ve worked for and waited for all my life. I’m not going to just walk out.’ Her large, hazel eyes gazed up into his hard face. ‘Please, if there is anything I need to know, tell me.’ Sean sighed. Telling her would place them both in danger, but not telling her would most likely result in her horrific death. Sean unexpectedly rushed out from the counter and stuck his head out of the door. He glanced up and down the street to make sure no one was about and locked the door behind him.
‘Come with me,’ he whispered. Lyra followed him into the back room and then into a side office, which she assumed was an interrogation room.

‘Sit,’ Sean commanded, ‘and listen, and listen good!’ Lyra nodded and sat at the bare desk. The sheriff took his seat opposite. ‘Several years back, there was a boy, Kane. He was supposed to have drowned up there in that lake. Years later, his mother went mad, going on a killing spree. Her son, poor kid, was deformed, his father was abusive, and the kids were cruel.’
‘I heard this before. It doesn’t mean that…’ The sheriff put his hand up.
‘Listen, I told you,’ he ordered. Lyra closed her mouth. ‘During the massacre, one of the kids fought back and decapitated Mrs Dayton. Kane saw it happen.’
‘But you said he was dead,’ Lyra argued.
‘They thought he was dead, but he wasn’t. Living up in that wilderness, all feral for years. He lives there now; he doesn’t want people up there and we don’t want people going up there. We just want to live in peace, and so does he.’

Lyra thought silently for some time. Occasionally, her mouth opened and then closed again as she processed the information. At last, she spoke.
‘Have you actually seen Kane?’
‘Lady!’ the sheriff snapped. ‘I’ve seen enough and I’m telling you the facts. Now, you go back up there, it’s at your own risk. You’re lucky to be alive. I thought you would be long gone by now.’
‘He was in my house. He was there. Someone was there. What are you going to do about that?’ she asked confidently, her lower lip pouted in defiance.
‘Have you heard a word I’ve told you?’ Sean sighed. He was getting nowhere. ‘You need to leave!’
‘What about the old man, Harlon? He lives up there.’ The woman was starting to grate on Sean’s nerves.
‘He takes care of Kane. He’s a hermit, not a trespasser.’
‘I’m still alive,’ Lyra muttered.

Sean leaned forward across the desk and took the woman’s hands in his own.
‘Please, Lyra, leave for your own sake. No one here is going to help you. I don’t know why you’re still alive, but I know you might not be tomorrow if you go back.’
‘I won’t be forced out of my home, sheriff; this is everything I have worked for. Do you understand?’ Sean smiled wryly.
‘I do understand.’ Suddenly, he stood up. ‘I’ve put my life at risk telling you this. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but I can try and protect you.’ He signalled for her to follow him back into the back room. There, he unlocked a filing cabinet and pulled out a handgun and a box of ammunition.

‘Take this.’ Lyra began to shake her head. ‘Take it before I change my mind.’ She took the weapon from his hands. ‘I don’t know if it will do you any good. That boy’s been shot and stabbed more times than I can remember, but I’d rather you had something than nothing.’ Lyra gave a shy smile; she realised that he was trying to be kind.
‘If you have never seen him yourself, how do you know so much?’ The sheriff sighed again; the woman was proving to be more troublesome than initially expected.
‘Harlon,’ he pursed his lips. ‘You didn’t hear that from me, but he’s possibly the only one who can help you.’ Lyra nodded her head and turned to leave. Once again, the sheriff grabbed her hand. ‘Please be careful.’ Lyra nodded. Sean accompanied her to the front desk and opened the door. Shell-shocked, Lyra wandered out of the station. ‘God be with you,’ Sean muttered under his breath.

Amy had judged the length of the walking trail perfectly. Within five minutes of getting home, Lyra found herself banging at the door of Harlon’s run-down shack. The generator rattled loudly as she waited. Harlon emerged from behind the cabin; he was a wizened old man. His overalls were grubby from tinkering with old engines, and a trilby hat hung on his head, covering a few smatters of grey hair. He gazed at the woman standing on his land; as he did, a look of recognition washed over his face.
‘It’s you,’ he uttered with surprise.
‘What?’ Lyra retorted.
‘Come in,’ he replied, ignoring her question.

Harlon doddered past Lyra and she followed him into the rickety cabin.
‘Sit where you can,’ he said, pointing at an old wooden chair. Harlon then proceeded to boil some water in a pot over an open fire that roared away in the fireplace. ‘I ain’t got much. Some malt, if you like?’ he asked whilst delving through some old cupboards, searching for a clean mug.
‘That’s alright. I’m not thirsty,’ Lyra explained. The old man did not seem to listen and continued to search until he found a mug for her.

‘Here, drink this,’ he said, handing her the filled mug. The taste was strong, and Lyra inadvertently screwed up her nose.
‘I came here because I think there was someone in my house and…’
‘You want Old Harlon to tell you about Kane?’ the man replied. Lyra nodded. ‘I’m guessing you already know. I’m guessing that sheriff there has a sweet spot for you and he already told you!’ Lyra opened her mouth.
‘How did you?’
‘How did I know? Old Harlon ain’t stupid, despite what folks might say.’ The man chuckled.
‘Was he in my cabin?’ Lyra asked cautiously. Harlon sat in the chair opposite and leaned forward, placing his chin on his wrinkly old hands.
‘Well, he sure was.’

Lyra’s eyes welled up with tears and panic shook her body.
‘He was watching me. He was there?’
‘Yep,’ the old man cackled. ‘He sure was.’
‘Then how come I’m not…’ Her voice trailed off in horror.
‘Dead?’ Harlon looked her up and down. ‘Only Kane can answer that, but you ain’t going getting that answer!’
‘Why?’ Lyra asked, instantly realising that it was a ridiculous question, as she was hardly going to confront a killer.
‘He’s a mute. Hasn’t spoken since the accident.’
‘He drowned?’
‘Nearly. I pulled him from the waters that day. He’s been here ever since,’ Harlon stated, pulling a bottle from the inside of his overalls. ‘Didn’t want to be a burden to his mother no more, you see.’ Lyra nodded.

Sean had been right; she was in danger. There was no way she could stay in Maple Cabin. She had to leave immediately. Lyra put the drink down on the table that sat between her and the old man.
‘I have to go,’ she muttered, rising to her feet. The old man did not move. A wicked smile crept over his face.
‘Why, you’re not going anywhere,’ he croaked.
‘What do you mean?’ A knot formed in Lyra’s stomach.
‘Well, you don’t got a car to start with.’
‘I do. I have a car,’ Lyra snapped, ‘and I am leaving right now.’ Harlon’s smile broadened.
‘You mean you did have a car!’ Lyra stared at the old man fearfully.
‘Where’s my car?’ she asked, riddled with fear. The old man pushed his body further forward.
‘Gone!’ he laughed.

Kane 5 – Chapter Five: Predator and Prey

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-5-chapter-five-predator-and-prey/

Lyra ran panting onto the beach from the trail; her car was indeed gone. The crafty old man had kept her talking whilst Kane had disposed of it. Somehow, he knew that she had visited the sheriff; he knew she would go straight to Harlon. Lyra looked up and down the beach hopelessly; there was no sign of her vehicle, even its tracks had been raked over. Her phone; she could call Sean for help. Lyra rushed into the cabin. As the door swung closed behind her, she froze; she had locked the cabin before departing for the town in the morning. She gazed about the room; her bag had been dumped on the sofa. Kane must have left it there before he took her car. Lyra tipped the contents of the bag out and rummaged furiously through it. Her phone was gone. She was alone, alone with a serial killer. Outside, dark clouds crossed the sky and a heavy rain started to fall.

Lyra thought quickly. She threw the deadbolt across on the front door and rushed from room to room, slamming the shutters and locking the windows. At the far end of the hall, there was an old back door, and even though she had kept that locked, she double-checked and pulled the lower bolt across on that door too. She cast her mind back to the gun, the gun so kindly given to her by Sean. She had left it in her car. Lyra cursed under her breath; how could she have been so foolish? Closing the shutters darkened the cabin. Lyra did not want to draw attention by putting the lights on, so she rummaged through the cupboards until she found an old torch that she kept for emergencies. She pressed the button and again went from room to room, checking all the cupboards and under the furniture.

There were no shadows, no dark figures hiding in wait for her. Lyra breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps she was overreacting, perhaps she had been drawn into local superstition, or perhaps the locals were trying to scare her. Lyra slumped down on the sofa; her heart was still palpitating in her chest. She panned the light of the torch about her in the darkness; everything seemed calm and quiet until she spied the rug in the hallway. It was moving, shivering as if a breeze was blowing at it. Lyra swallowed and focused on the movement. The shivering continued. Cautiously, she rose and marched to the mat. Her fingers looped around the frayed edges and she pulled it from the floor.

There underneath sat an old, unlocked trapdoor. The breeze was ever so slight, but certainly coming from beneath the door. She tugged at the black, looped handle until the door loosened and she pulled it open. The light of the torch shone into the crevice. There, below the house, a tunnel or shaft ran. She drooped her head over the edge and directed her torch one way and then the other. It was a long shaft and ran much further than the breadth of her cabin. Lyra thought about her options; exploring the shaft seemed foolhardy, but then so did backing herself into the corners of the cabin.

Carefully, Lyra lowered her body into the tunnel, bringing her torch with her. Her leggings clipped and tore slightly as she used the shaft walls to help her climb down. She waved the torch about, deciding which way to go. She did not want to go east as Harlon lived in that direction, and she reasoned that if Harlon was taking care of Kane, then she would be less likely to encounter the killer if she headed in the other direction. Lyra waved the torch west; the shaft was empty as far as she could see. Unfortunately, the glow of the torch was limited, and she could not see as far as she had hoped. Reluctantly, and feeling there were few choices left available to her, Lyra wandered down the shaft, not knowing what to expect.

She walked for some time. Occasionally, she noted trapdoors above her, but the last thing she wanted was to climb out and find herself lost in the depths of the woods. The mineshaft walls held a few unlit torches and a clear path had been worn into the ground. Her heart had calmed somewhat, and her breathing slowed. Lyra’s pace had quickened, and she moved almost robotically; her mind was still trying to absorb her terrible situation. The glow of the torch started to fade as she continued, and she noted that the passage was widening. It continued to widen until she found herself in what appeared to be a series of basement rooms. Relief flooded her; she must have found someone’s home. She hoped that the residents were home, then she could get help and escape from Maple Lake. Again, she cursed herself, this time for not having listened to Sean.

There were old bags, wood and tools strewn everywhere. Lyra waded through the mess until she found another trapdoor. She pulled on the cord; the door did not budge. She pulled again; her breathing had lightened, but she could hear breathing, heavy breathing. Lyra bit her lip; her hands dropped from the cord and very slowly she turned towards the sound.

He was there, standing at the far end of the basement, an imposing figure. Kane breathed in; he could smell the light fragrance of Lyra’s skin. He had followed her cautiously for some time. She was brave, this one; most would have run screaming aimlessly through the woods, but not Lyra, not yet. He breathed in deeply. Lyra watched as his chest heaved beneath the navy-blue boiler suit. His feet were clad in black boots and his face covered by a worn hockey mask. He towered over her, and in his hand, he wielded a machete. Lyra’s heart seemed to miss a beat.

Kane stared at Lyra, waiting; he knew what would come next.
‘Help,’ Lyra yelled, tugging again at the cord. ‘Someone help me.’ Very slowly, Kane took a few steps forward. With all her might, Lyra yanked on the cord and the door flew open, dropping a ladder. She rapidly climbed the ladder, not daring to look behind. Kane waited; she would soon realise where she was.

‘Help, help me,’ Lyra continued to call as she scrambled into the cabin. It looked rugged, almost disused; her heart sank. ‘Help me, please,’ she called. No one answered. Behind her, she could hear his heavy footsteps climbing the ladder. She ran from the room into the corridor; at the end, she could see a candlelit crevice. Her breathing deepened as she moved towards it. Curiously, she peered in; the empty eyes of Kane’s mother stared back at her. A yell left her mouth; she turned again to leave, but Kane was there waiting.

His giant physique took up the width of the corridor; there was no way she could get around him. She pushed on a side door; it was jammed. With one furious, frightened kick, the door jutted open. Inside, there was an old bed, table and window. Lyra picked up the table and threw it as hard as she could against the window. The glass shattered and some shards cut into her arms as she pulled herself through the hole.

This was his home; she had walked further into Kane’s territory. The twisted, dark shapes of trees loomed about her, rain belted from the clouded skies, and the sound of a door being thrown open drove a sickening horror into Lyra’s soul. She was running; her survival instinct had kicked in and she found herself bolting into the woods like a frightened deer.

Kane’s senses were highly attuned to the wilderness; he could hear every step, see every movement. He could see her running. He thought of Lyra lying on the sofa, so fresh and ready for the taking. He could have taken her there and then; he could have done anything that he wanted to her. He thought of her chest heaving in her sleep, the shape of her breasts in the night chill. Her art, her mind on paper, her understanding of good and evil through the duality of man. But he was not a man, not anymore; that part of him died as the beast within had emerged. A beast full of anger, rage and bloodlust.

Lyra could hear him thumping through the forest behind her; he was fast and his footsteps were wide. Her tiny legs could hardly outrun him. She was tiring; only the adrenaline pumping through her body drove her on. At length, the fatigue and soreness in Lyra’s thighs overwhelmed her; she looked behind her. Kane was still advancing. She pushed herself to run harder and changed direction, hoping to throw him off of her scent long enough for her to hide. The darkness was consuming; she could only make out shapes and shadows. Lyra lost her footing and slid down a muddy bank, soaking herself in wet mud.

Kane stopped and listened; the woman had fallen, and he knew exactly where. He veered in her direction. Lyra struggled to her feet and looked about her; there was a lot of shrubbery. She crawled underneath a particularly prickly shrub and slunk under its foliage. She could hear him again, and he was close. Her hand covered her mouth to try and quieten the deep breaths that panted from her. Kane ran down the slope and stopped dead, listening carefully. He could smell her and knew that she was there, hidden somewhere.

Lyra could make out Kane’s boots as he stood motionless before her. Her hand tightened over her mouth. She had come here to live, not to die. For the first time in her life, she had felt at home, shut away from the world, lost in nature, just her and her art. Was this the price of happiness? Time froze; Kane waited. He loved this part of the game; he loved to give his victims a little hope. He could hear Lyra’s breathing; she had tried to cover it up, but he could hear her soft breaths.

Lyra watched; death stood so close to her. The brambles had stung her body and she ached with fatigue, but she held as still as possible. Eventually, Kane’s legs moved, and he stalked off into the darkness. Lyra stayed perfectly still for a while before moving slightly forward on her belly. She looked deep into the shadows but could see nothing. She hesitated, frightened to expose herself, but she had backed herself into a corner and that was dangerous.

At length, she pulled herself from under the bushes and received another dose of scratches. Apart from the torrential rain, the forest was still; no footsteps, no hulking monsters, nothing. She was a mess, a mixture of cuts, blood and dirt. She rolled onto her back, giving herself a moment to prepare for the arduous journey out of the forest. In an instant, he was looming over her; the beast had dropped from the trees above and straddled her weakened form with his legs. Lyra screamed and pushed herself backwards on the palms of her hands in a bid to escape.

Kane gazed on his struggling prey; this game was far too delicious to stop playing, and besides, there was something different about this woman. He had spared her once; he had watched her and warmed her, and looking at her breathing had warmed him in ways he had not experienced. He stared coldly into her pleading eyes. Lyra tried desperately to get up, but the tide of mud simply caused her to slip and struggle more. Her body flailed, and tears built up in her eyes. To Kane, she looked so ravishingly helpless.

He was going to kill her; Lyra was sure of it. Perhaps Bob had interrupted him the previous night. There was no doubt in her mind that he had killed Bob and Amy, probably because they had sold her the property, or as Sean had suggested, because they had warned her about Kane. He knew for sure that she had spoken to Sean, so he most likely knew that Amy had also warned her about him. Kane stepped forward and raised the machete over his shoulder.

Kane 6 – Chapter Six: The Hunt

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-6-chapter-six-the-hunt/

Clouds seemed to drift apart in that moment; the sun dropped and the moon was rising, rays of dusk light streamed through the trees and the blade gleamed in the glow. Lyra’s eyes widened, her hopes dashed, and her spirit sank. Kane gazed icily on his victim; her lip quivered with fear. All their lips quivered in those last moments. It always excited him, but he felt much more than excitement now; her suffering aroused him furiously.

He lowered the blade steadily and brushed it against her cheek; she winced away from the cold steel and whimpered softly. Kane scraped the blade lower, caressing her neck with the threat of death. Lyra shuddered and tears fell heavily from her wide, fearful eyes. He pulled the blade across her throat, exerting enough pressure to cause discomfort, but not enough to cut. The blade was then dropped to her shoulders and brushed against her chest. He thought again of her breasts moving up and down in her sleep, her cold, pointed nipples, her body curling under the warmth he had provided.

The blade moved further down, scraping her hips and thighs. Lyra grimaced under the hulking body of the menacing beast.
‘Kane!’ she called in desperation. Kane snapped his head to look at her. ‘Kane, please don’t hurt me,’ she whimpered. Her begging aroused him further. Lyra had distracted him; it was a last-ditch attempt to escape and it seemed to be working. He stared at her; in the evening glimmer, she could see one blue eye gazing through the mask. ‘Kane, please,’ she whispered.

Kane watched as Lyra finally struggled to her feet; he towered over her and she knew that he could kill her with one blow from those powerful, gloved hands. ‘Kane,’ Lyra mumbled again. He seemed to respond to his name. ‘I will leave if that’s what you want!’ Lyra waited for a response, but he was motionless, the only visible movement from his deep, angry breaths. Lyra stepped backwards cautiously; he did not move. She stepped again, all the time glancing vigilantly from his eyes to the weapon and back again. The sheriff had warned her that those who see Kane do not live to tell about it, and she was in no doubt that he was toying with her.

Again, Lyra took a step backwards. Kane twisted the machete in his hands, and she stopped moving. He was too close for her to escape. If he threw the blade, he would kill her instantly. She had to get some distance between them; that was the only chance she had. ‘Please, Kane, let me go.’ Kane listened to her pleas; he had no intention of letting Lyra leave his woods, not now, not ever. Lyra shifted forward, closing the gap between them. ‘Kane,’ he tilted his head, ‘please don’t hurt me.’ Beautiful, her begging was a melody to his ears.

Lyra placed her hands on Kane’s chest and he recoiled; no one had ever touched him with such gentleness. ‘Kane,’ she whispered. He loomed over her and dropped his head just above hers; Lyra gulped. He was terrifying, especially that close. She turned her head away from him, but he moved in menacingly, measuring up to her in a fearful manner. Her scent filled him; Kane breathed it in, her fear-filled scent so powerful. He nudged his head closer to her face; the mask brushed against her and she shivered. Kane loosened the grip on his machete. Lyra realised that this was her only chance to escape. With all her might, she raised her knee, jarring it spitefully into his crotch. He buckled for a brief second, long enough for Lyra to turn on her heel and run.

Rage filled Kane; he had allowed himself to be vulnerable just for an instant, almost made a connection, and this was how he had been repaid. She would suffer for this. Lyra scrambled up the bank with a newfound willpower. She had angered the beast; her only chance was to escape into the night, but this was his wilderness and he had the advantage. Muddied and wet, she managed to negotiate the bank and ran rapidly into the shadows of the trees. There were no footsteps. Hiding behind the huge trunk of a tree, she scanned the forest for any sign of Kane. There was none.

Lyra tried to gain some sense of direction. She had come from Kane’s cabin, which lay west of her cabin. Through the thumping sound of her heart in her head, Lyra reasoned that if she travelled east, she would find her way back to her cabin, and then she could follow the trail out of Maple Lake, hiding in the shade of the woods. Rapidly, she darted from tree to tree, checking her surroundings with each movement. Her senses were heightened, and she was vigilant. Her mind started to wander as she moved; the monster could have dispatched her twice now, but had chosen to let her live. She thought of his firm body looming above her, the tension when he had taken the measure of her. It felt almost possessive, desirous.

The wrath consumed Kane; he wanted to make Lyra suffer. He could kill her and be done with her. He could choke her until the life left her eyes and watch as she writhed under his grasp. The thought awakened the demon within him. Rage burned through his whole being. He watched as Lyra darted from tree to tree; she would have to return to the cabin and the shafts to have any chance of finding her way home. Kane was patient; he would wait long enough to allow her to believe that she was almost safe, then she would suffer.

Lyra could make out the lights coming from Kane’s cabin through the clearing. She looked around her again; Kane was nowhere to be seen. Lyra listened for the sound of his footsteps, nothing. She moved again from tree to tree until she was almost at the cabin. Perhaps he had released her.

Kane followed silently in the shadows. He watched and waited until she was in the vicinity of his home, the home this woman had invaded. He had hoped that she was different, but she was no different. She just wanted to hurt him like the children did in his youth, like the counsellors who had killed his mother and the visitors who come to visit the legendary Maple Lake. This woman was no different; she was a threat. Kane thought back to the previous night; she had looked so soft and gentle and fragile. She was fragile; he had seen her work, seen inside of her mind. There was something deep within her soul that screamed out to be saved, but she had hurt him. Conflicting thoughts fought through Kane’s enraged mind, and he prowled about the trees, silently circling his prey.

A branch snapped in the surrounding trees. Lyra froze in the shelter of one of the trees that she had used for protection. The footsteps resumed, heavily crunching on the forest floor. The rain stopped abruptly. Lyra listened, leaning deeply into the bark; the snapping and crunching continued. It seemed to be coming from all around her. She carefully leaned around the curve of the tree, but she could not see him. Kane had come full circle and stood watching her futile attempts to outmanoeuvre him from the side of his cabin. He had deliberately made enough noise to further flood her with fear.

With dainty steps, Lyra slid to the other side of the trunk and stared into the darkness. Heavy footsteps rushed in on her; she turned to see Kane running with the machete swung majestically above his head, ready to strike. A scream escaped from her lips. He could kill her now and be done with it; these feelings would be gone, and he could live in peace. Alone, but in peace. He moved furiously towards her, ready to strike her down. His eyes met with her terrified, pleading hazel eyes, and he thrust the blade forward.

The machete struck and drove deep. Its blade wedged in with an inhuman ferocity. The hilt hung out of the trunk within an inch of Lyra’s head. Lyra’s body was shaking with the shock of seeing the blade coming towards her. Kane leaned over her, placing his hands either side of her face. His blood boiled with rage, rage and a newfound uneasy tension, an unsated desire. His head drooped to hers and he measured himself up to her again. This time, she recoiled; this time, she had felt the awesome power and fullness of his wrath. Lyra sobbed as he pushed the mask against her.

Kane looked down at her; she despised him like all of the others. She could not bear to look at him, could not bear him touching her, and he wanted to touch her. Kane lowered his right hand and touched her cheek; Lyra moved away from his touch. She was beyond terrified.
‘Kane,’ she sobbed. Kane tilted his head to touch hers. The woman was trying to distract him again, but he would not be fooled a second time. He dropped his hand from her cheek to her throat. His fingers opened and he gripped her delicate neck tightly; in one swift, aggressive movement, he lifted her from the ground and tightened his grip.

Lyra struggled against the brute, but he was far too strong for her. She kicked and writhed against him, but her airway was closing. Her legs stopped flailing with exhaustion; Lyra felt herself giving up. Her body went limp and Kane tightened his grip. He had ended many lives with his hands, watched his victims fall beneath his strength and delighted in the moment of their demise. Lyra mustered the last of her strength and reached her hand around Kane’s neck; her fingers lightly stroked him. Kane shuddered under her touch; his grip automatically tightened in response to his arousal. Lyra’s vision started to fade.
‘Kane, save me,’ she pleaded, and her eyes closed, sinking her into a blackness.

Her body slumped into an unconscious stupor. Her words echoed through Kane’s mind: Kane, save me. The beast loosened his grip and watched as her body slid to the ground in a helpless heap. Kane glanced at his blade and then back to his victim. The urge to kill her was overwhelming, but something held the demon at bay. He reached up and yanked the knife from the bark. He touched the blade to her throat. She was defenceless, totally at his mercy.

Kane rarely killed anyone who was not fully conscious; he relished in the hunt. On the odd occasion, he had slaughtered a stoned girl, but generally, he would wait until they woke to terrorise them. This girl was terrorising him; she made him feel urges beyond his usual bloodlust. This was alien to him. He pulled the blade upwards; he could drive it through her. Kane, save me. The words tore through his soul. He lowered himself down to the ground and scooped her up in his arms, dangling the machete from his fingers beneath her limp body. Her head hung over the crook of one arm, and her legs hung over the other. Kane lifted her effortlessly and carried her to his cabin.

Inside the door of the cabin, Kane leaned his machete up against the wall. He looked down at his victim, his woman; he breathed heavily, unsure as to what to do. Gently, he placed her body on his sofa, tilting her head back over the arm of the chair. His fingers had left marks on her pretty throat. She was filthy, bloodied and hurt. Kane raised his mask from his face and stared down at her. She was soaking; he quickly fetched some rags and sheets from his room and a bowl of water to clean and dry her.

Kane 7 – Chapter Seven: Unwanted

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-7-chapter-seven-unwanted/

Lyra’s clothes were soaking. She was simply dressed in leggings and a shirt. She must have been freezing. Kane slipped off her trainers; he knew the only way to warm her would be to take off her soaking clothes. He had endured many nights of being soaked to the skin. He could see that she was still breathing, albeit faintly. A new emotion washed over him, guilt. She was in this state because of him, but it was so hard to fight off the urges that were so familiar to him. Kane wiped her face carefully with water and dried it with a rag. He then slid off her leggings. Her pale legs were covered in goosebumps. He took a sheet and wrapped it around her lower body, easing his hand up to remove her wet underwear. He could feel the rise of her sex; his stomach tightened, and he quickly pulled the garment from her.

Kane turned his attention to her shirt. There was no easy way to remove it. He leaned to the side and reached for his machete. Carefully, he used the blade to cut at the material until the shirt fell away in his hands. Her bra was equally wet; he clipped the join between the cups and the straps and pulled it from her. Kane had seen naked women before, several times; it normally enraged him. This time was different; this time he felt different. His hand hovered over her breasts and lingered for some time before he covered her with another sheet. It took some time to clear the dirt and blood from her body, and he worked around the blankets so that she did not get cold.

Once clean, Kane looked over her wounds. He had treated enough of his own wounds to have a firm understanding of healing. He washed each wound individually, each tear from the brambles and bruise from falling. She had not moved for some time. Kane lowered his head to her chest. Her heart was beating, but she was still cold. He remembered the thick blanket that he had used to cover her the previous night; he could retrieve that and some other supplies from her cabin. Kane looked down at Lyra; if she woke, she would run.

The basement door was still open. Kane marched over to it and climbed down the ladder. He had the perfect solution. There were several yards of strong rope in amongst his tools. He usually used them to tie bodies into sacks in preparation for easy removal and disposal. He found the most efficient rope and returned to the front room. The machete cut a line of rope and he bound Lyra’s hands together and ran the rope from her wrists to the wall pipes. In her weakened state, she would be unable to escape. Kane then returned to the basement and stalked along the tunnel to Lyra’s cabin.

He could smell her perfume the second he climbed into her hallway. Kane breathed in Lyra’s scent and then marched through the cabin, collecting blankets, towels and some clothes. He looked through her kitchen cupboards until he found disinfectant and some old refuse sacks. The items filled the sack; as he prepared to return to his cabin, the sound of a car rumbled down the trail and onto the beach.

Sean climbed reluctantly from his sheriff’s car. The shutters of Lyra’s cabin were closed, and her car was gone. Sean had spent the day in turmoil, worrying about the newest resident in Maple Lake. He should never have let her return to that cabin; he should have found her a place in town, talked to her, fought with her, whatever it took to keep her from Kane’s clutches. He had bumped into Harlon at the gas station that very evening and found him evasive, especially when he enquired about Lyra’s well-being. That was the final straw, and Sean knew then that he had to rescue her before it was too late.

‘Lyra!’ he shouted before rapping furiously at the door. ‘Lyra, open up, please.’ Kane stood at the other side of the door. Harlon had betrayed him, provided information to an outsider and tried to rescue one of his victims. Kane’s rage had been bubbling below the surface for some time, quelled only by the other strange emotion that only rose when he was close to Lyra. The knocking continued. ‘Lyra, please,’ the sheriff yelled. Kane, please, her words touched him again. Kane, save me.

‘This is the sheriff,’ Sean barked authoritatively. ‘Now open this door.’ Kane looked down at the deadbolt. His hand grasped the handle and, with one stealthy movement, he ripped the door open, tearing the locks off. Sean looked up at the hulking monster and backed away from the door. He thought of Lyra, her innocent eyes. She was surely dead.
‘What did you do?’ Sean asked nervously. ‘Where is she?’ Kane remained fixed in the doorway; his heavy breathing exemplified the rage within. The sheriff edged around his car without taking his eyes off his nemesis. He reached the driver’s door and climbed in. For a brief time, he cast his eyes to the windscreen; he looked back to the door. Kane had vanished.

Sean sighed a deep sigh of relief. The vehicle was still humming. Suddenly, the car rocked as if someone was exerting a great force on the rear. Sean put his foot down on the accelerator; the clutch lifted far too quickly in panic and the vehicle stalled. He reached for the ignition and turned the key. As he did, a gloved hand ripped the door off and gripped his hair, dragging him from the vehicle. Two giant hands pushed down on each of his shoulders and his legs buckled beneath his body. The pressure increased, forcing his shoulders backwards, folding his body in half and driving his head over feet. Sean yelled out in agony as his spine snapped in two.

Kane cracked the body back into shape and threw it furiously over his shoulder. He removed the keys from the vehicle and stalked up the trail to Harlon’s shack. Harlon always seemed to know when Kane was on his way and stood obediently outside, waiting for him. Kane pulled open the trapdoor and dropped the body down. He would deal with that after he had dealt with Lyra. Kane kicked the door shut and marched over to Harlon, throwing the keys at the old man.
‘Guess we’re getting a new sheriff,’ Harlon muttered. He knew that the disappearance of the sheriff would be treated like all of the disappearances by the townfolk. They would cover it up; no one dared venture into Kane’s territory. Harlon took a swig of his beloved bottle. ‘And the girl?’ he queried.

Kane snapped his head up and stared at the old man. He had never questioned Kane before; he warned people to stay away, they seldom heeded his warning, but he never questioned the creature. ‘Is she gone?’ the old man persisted. Kane tilted his head further; perhaps the old man had seen something special in this woman. Kane stared at him for some time. His fixation made Harlon nervous; he had overstepped the boundaries of their acquaintance. Harlon had been quite bemused by Kane’s choices the previous night; he had never let anyone live. Yet, he had been in Maple Cabin alone with Lyra and she had survived. At length, Kane shook his head slowly. Harlon nearly choked on his whiskey. ‘She’s alive?’ he queried curiously. Kane stared. Harlon raised the bottle up again, and when he lowered it, Kane had gone, vanished. Just like Harlon would make the sheriff’s car vanish.

The sack still lay where Kane had dropped it before the sheriff had interrupted his movements. He collected it quickly and made his way back along the shafts to his own cabin. The woman was still unconscious. Kane loosened the ropes and released her wrists so that he could tend to her further. Her skin was icy cold, and she shivered in her stupor. Kane removed the light blankets and towel-dried her body. He poured a few caps of disinfectant into the bowl of water by the sofa and cleaned her wounds. If she was awake, she might have winced as the liquid stung her cuts, but alas, she was not. Kane pulled a long shift that he had found in her bed over her cold body. The sofa did not look comfortable.

The monster lifted her again and carried her to his bed. He laid her down and covered her body with his own duvet. She looked so helpless. Watching her struggle and suffer had aroused him; he had done this to her, inflicted pain on her. He had watched her run from him and beg for her life, but his name on her lips had awoken something inside of him. Kane had not forgotten how she had hurt him, though; he could not forget, as his life had been one of pain and rejection. If she woke, she would try to escape again. He rose and marched back into the front room to retrieve the rope. This time, he bound her hands and tied them to the headboard. She did not move; her mind was still floating in a sea of darkness.

Kane had not thought about what he would do when she woke. His mind raced. He sat down on the bed next to her. He had never let a victim live; it was unfathomable. He gazed down at her. He pulled his right glove off and allowed it to drop to the floor. She had looked so delicious running from him, so tantalising as he stood over her and so desperate as his hands had clasped her throat. Kane, save me. The words tormented him; she had begged him to save her life, to grant her life. He had obliged against every instinct in his body, every instinct except one. A primal lust that continued to burn through him.

Kane looked down at his victim; she was his victim. He was in total control of her. He could hurt her anytime he wished; he could hurt her to feed one primal desire or he could forcibly feed his other lust. She was powerless. He ran his gloveless hand over her face; she would never want him. No one wanted him; only his mother had ever shown him any love. Even his father hated him and tortured him for being different. Abruptly, he moved his hand away from her skin and touched his own face. All she would see is the monster that everyone else saw, the hateful killer and deformed demon. She would reject him outright.

He felt his own face; the rage was beginning to build again. It never stopped, never went away completely. She would reject him; that would enrage him, and he would hurt her again. Kane put his glove back on. The woman could not leave even if she wanted to, and he could force himself on her if she tried.

Somewhere in the blackness, Lyra had tipped into her dream world. She was running through the forest, running as hard as she could, but her legs were heavy and kept plunging into an invisible mire, dragging her back and slowing her. The monster was coming; he was coming to kill her. Her throat ached and burned; she was thirsty, but there was no water, only that thick sludge. She could hear trees cracking all around her; footsteps were closing in on her from every direction. Then he was there; his heaving body stood before her. The machete pointing in her direction. The sludge held her fast; she could not move even though she was trying so desperately to escape. The monster closed in on her; she could feel him all around her. He was measuring himself up against her, menacing her. His hands clasped her throat; the parched dryness stung until one word was forced from her lips.
‘Kane.’

Kane 8 – Chapter Eight: Her Bondage

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-8-chapter-eight-her-bondage/

Kane snapped his head to look at Lyra. Her eyes opened; his name had left her lips. She had been dreaming about him, dreaming or having a nightmare. Lyra jerked forward, but her bound hands restrained her movement. Kane looked down at her; she was afraid. For a short time, she struggled to free her hands, but it was to no avail. Lyra closed her eyes again; she was alive. He tried to kill her, but she was alive. If he had wanted her dead, then she would be dead, or at least that is what she reasoned. Instead, he had brought her back to his cabin. Her eyes opened again, and she stared at him. Did he have other plans for her?

Lyra’s throat burned; she tried to cough but could not. She could feel the bruises swelling on her neck.
‘Water.’ The whisper burned too. Kane looked at her. She wondered if he could understand her. ‘Water, please, Kane.’ In one aggressive motion, the man jumped up and stalked from the room. Lyra sank her head back into the pillow. Her eyes wandered down the bed. This was her duvet, and she was clean. She fidgeted so that the duvet shifted down the bed. Not only had he collected her duvet, but he had changed her clothes and her underwear had been removed. A warm blush filled her cheeks. Her body was clean and dry; he must have washed her. Lyra could hear Kane fumbling around in the next room, and he soon returned with an old mug in his hands.

‘Untie me, please,’ Lyra asked. Kane held the mug of water under her nose. ‘Kane, untie me.’ Lyra nodded at the water. Kane stared at her as she spoke; he did not respond, but instead put the mug to her lips. Lyra sipped at the drink. It was tepid at best, but as she swallowed, the liquid soothed her throat. Lyra finished the drink quickly. Kane put the mug on the desk and returned to her bedside, towering over her, eerily motionless. He had a huge physique, powerful and frightening.

Lyra was trapped. She did not know how to escape from this monster but reasoned that any attempt to do so would result in further injury. She sighed deeply with resignation. Her best chance of survival depended on her cooperation; fighting the man had failed. Kane could crush her if he chose to do so; she could still feel his hands on her neck. The figure continued to loom over her in an uneasy silence.
‘Kane,’ Lyra rasped. He tilted his head down further as if to acknowledge that she had spoken. ‘Just, just don’t hurt me anymore.’

Those words; why did she have to say those words? Did the woman not realise how much they excited him? He could feel a pressure growing within him. Lyra tipped her head back so that she could take in his whole form. He seemed even larger than he had in the woods. His silent stare filled her with dread and something else. Something more subtle; someone so powerful could hide her from the rest of the world, keep her safe forever. After all, she had moved to Maple Cabin to escape from the rest of the world. Lyra eased herself deep into the mattress. She wanted to test him, to see if he felt the tension between them too.

Lyra stared back at her captor; she could see his blue eyes clearly in the dim light of the room. One was slightly skewed, but both were fixed on her. She held his gaze; her long lashes blinked as she breathed him in. She thought of his hands on her throat, the rage that had driven him and how he had tended to her so delicately afterwards. She had been terrified of his cruelty, but the fear gave way to a deeper feeling, a sense of urgency and desire. The more she thought over his duplicitous nature, the man and the monster, the more her body betrayed her.

A light moved and waved outside of the window; the light danced about for a while. Kane peered at it, but this was not his usual aggressive response. Lyra waited to see if he moved, but he remained fixed to the spot. The sound of a clatter at the front door echoed through to the bedroom, followed by uneven footsteps.
‘Boy,’ the voice called. Lyra recognised it instantly; it was Harlon. ‘Boy!’ he called again. ‘I moved the old banger and tomorrow I’ll strip it and…’ The man’s voice trailed off as he reached the room’s threshold. Lyra could see the shock in his eyes; his mouth dropped, and he stared at the strange scene.

‘Boy, what you done now?’ the old man asked at length. Kane shifted his stare from Lyra to Harlon. Harlon was the nearest thing to a friend that Kane had. He relied on the old man to fetch anything he needed from town and assisted in disposing of bodies and unwelcome vehicles. Harlon also served as a reminder to the townspeople that Kane’s territory had to be left undisturbed. Harlon assessed the situation in his partly inebriated mind. ‘You can’t go tying women up like that, boy.’ Kane continued to stare at the old man. ‘Now, what you going doing to this girly?’

Lyra caught the old man’s drift. Was Kane planning on raping her? She mouthed silently,
‘Help me.’ Kane turned his head to her in response. He raised his hand and placed a finger over her lips, warning her to stay silent.
‘I can’t do that, missy,’ Harlon slurred. ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t.’ His words agitated Lyra; she mustered a shard of courage and retorted,
‘So, you not only aid a killer, but now you’re going to let him rape me? Great morals.’ Her words bit through Kane’s being; if he had wanted to rape her, he could have, anytime. Kane placed one finger over her lips again and, with the other hand, clasped her throat as a warning.

Harlon watched, unmoved; he had seen much worse things.
‘Lady, you’re alive, so think yourself lucky,’ he muttered. He then turned his attention to Kane. ‘That what you left up with me, I moved it for you.’ Lyra thought carefully back over the conversation; the car, the thing, Kane had killed someone else. She wanted to ask who, but Kane had already warned her not to speak again and, given his earlier rage, she opted not to pursue the matter. ‘I’m going in town early, boy,’ he continued. ‘You need anything?’ Kane remained still. Harlon nodded to his captive. ‘She need anything?’ he added. Kane looked down at his woman, his woman; he pulled his hands away and pointed towards the old man.

‘He wants to know if you need anything?’ Harlon interpreted. Lyra could not believe how bizarre her situation was. First, he broke into her home, then he tried to kill her, kidnapped her, changed her clothes and now he wanted to know if she needed anything.
‘Freedom? Sanity?’ Lyra replied sarcastically. Kane tilted his head and stroked his hand over her lips again. Another warning. ‘I don’t know,’ Lyra replied honestly. Her mind was a mess. Kane stroked her lips and cheek. Lyra tipped her head and stared at Harlon, her eyes pleading for help. Harlon was used to silent communication and knew exactly what she was asking.
‘You gonna hurt her more, boy?’ he asked. Kane’s masked face looked back to the old man. ‘I think you best do as he wants, missy.’ Harlon took a swig from his bottle. ‘Yep, do as he wants,’ the old man stammered as he turned and staggered from the room. The torchlight flicked past the window, and then he was gone.

Kane wondered if his woman had listened to the old man. She had to obey him, or else she would end up like everyone else who had crossed his path. Lyra tried to guess the time; she reasoned that they were well into the early hours of the morning and wondered if Kane slept. She knew that even if he did, she would not be able to loosen her bonds, but his threatening stature towering over her all night seemed a disconcerting prospect at best.

‘Kane,’ she mumbled softly, so as not to alarm the monster. ‘Will you sit with me?’ He did not answer. ‘Kane, please, I’m scared,’ she pleaded. He looked into her doe eyes; she was scared, not as much as she had been earlier that night, but there was still fear within her. He liked her fear, but he could see that she was drained, exhausted and in pain. He liked her pain too; that vulnerability stirred him. To her surprise, Kane turned and walked out of the room. She could hear the scrape of matches. He lit a few torches in the hallway and returned, turning the light off en route. Kane then perched himself awkwardly on the bed next to Lyra. He noticed that the blanket had been shifted down and pulled it back up over her.

Lyra watched as he shrouded her body with the duvet. Her heart lurched as she watched him remove his glove in the shadows. She dreaded to think what he intended to do, but her mind was eased as he ran his hand gently through her hair. He brushed the locks away from her face and caressed her head and neck with gentle strokes. So gentle, so very different from the rage-filled beast she had seen chasing her through the trees. His strokes reassured her, warmed her and gave rise to conflicting emotions; desire for his protection and fear of his wrath.

She was too tired to analyse these complex feelings, too tired to run or fight. She just wanted to sleep, even if that meant sleeping next to a monster. She was alive, and he had had ample opportunity to kill her if he had wanted to. Harlon’s warning slipped into her mind again; providing she was obedient, she would remain alive. If he wanted to touch her, she would let him. For a brief moment, she wondered what she would do if he wanted more than just to touch her, but the fatigue engulfing her drove the thought to the back of her mind. Even the discomfort of the ropes digging into her wrists did nothing to drive the sensation away. In her lethargy, she tipped her head and rested it against his strong thigh. The stroking continued until the darkness once again consumed her.

The woman was asleep; he watched her for a while and then lay down next to her. The bed was small, and the only way he could fit was by pulling her close to him. Kane loved the feeling of her nubile body pressing into his. He could feel his arousal growing, but he would not act on it. Not yet! He held her close and listened to her deepening breathing. He had plans for her; he wanted to hurt her, and he wanted her to want it. He wanted her to want so much more. She was obeying him out of fear, but in time, that could change.

Kane touched his bare hand to his face; she could never see it. She would hate him. He had already hurt her, and she probably hated him and feared him now, but she would hate him so much more if she saw beneath the mask. He would force her to want him, show her the fine line between pain and pleasure. Kane cautiously wrapped an arm about her and held her tightly. He wanted that feeling to last. Lyra shuffled slightly and turned awkwardly against the ropes; her head buried unwittingly into Kane’s chest and he resumed stroking her hair. She moaned under his touch; his eyelids closed. He had never heard such a pleasurable sound.

Kane 9 – Chapter Nine: Poachers

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-9-chapter-nine-poachers/

‘Kane, Kane,’ the voice was so sweet in the darkness. Kane opened his eyes. It was early, but his woman was awake. ‘Kane, I need to freshen up.’ The man sat up suddenly, facing away from her. ‘Kane,’ she implored. He turned to her. Lyra looked into his masked face; he didn’t understand. ‘I need to use your bathroom,’ she insisted. The creature looked down at her and proceeded to loosen the line of rope from the headboard. Lyra shifted out of the bed and followed him as he led her through the cabin to the bathroom. He stood in the doorway, and Lyra waited. He did not leave. ‘No, alone!’ she insisted and raised her wrists for him to release her. She could sense that he was unmoved. ‘Kane, I can’t outrun you, please,’ she implored.

He waited; he wanted to hear her beg again. He enjoyed the waves of desire that darted through him when she begged.
‘Please, Kane.’ The words melted through him. He dropped his hands and slackened her bonds before pulling them from her wrists. Still, he remained in the doorway. Lyra sighed. ‘No,’ she stated with some attempt at being forceful. ‘I want the door closed.’ Kane glanced up at the window; it was tiny, no one could climb through it. He nodded slightly and closed the door. Lyra knew that he would be waiting on the other side but freshened herself none the less.

Lyra turned on the tap and was relieved to see flowing water. She washed her face and hands and raked damp fingers through her hair. Kane was still standing motionless in the hallway when she had finished. The rope was in his hands, waiting, and he nodded towards her wrists. Lyra sighed and raised them obediently. She noticed that he did not bind her wrists as tightly when he tied the rope about them again. Kane led her back into the bedroom and secured her in place before perching on the edge of the bed.

‘Kane?’ Lyra whispered. ‘What are you going to do with me?’ He turned his head. ‘I mean, you can’t keep me tied up forever.’ The masked face nodded as if to confirm that he could keep her as he wished. Lyra knew that there was little point in arguing with him and sighed. She would try another tactic. ‘Kane,’ she called again, knowing that he was very responsive to hearing his name. He nodded again as if to acknowledge that he had heard her.
‘When I woke, you were holding me.’ No response. ‘It was nice,’ Lyra continued. ‘I mean, it felt nice to have you touching me.’

Kane tilted his head, wondering if this was manipulation or genuine. Lyra recognised his concern, felt it as if it flowed from him. ‘Kane, I’m not trying to escape. I just want you to put your arms around me.’ Lyra looked up at him; he could break her in an instant if he thought she was betraying him. He terrified her, but he attracted her too, and she sensed that he wanted her; otherwise, she would be dead already. Plead with him, he likes it when you plead with him, she reasoned. ‘Please, please, Kane, hold me.’ The monster eased himself down next to her and placed his arm back around her. She nuzzled into his chest; his breathing was lighter than it had been. Lyra closed her eyes, her body snuggled into the giant physique of the killer.

Kane listened to her breathing; her body relaxed in his arms. She was not struggling or screaming; he dared to hope that he could turn her and make her stay with him willingly. He even hoped that she could someday accept him for what he was. Kane had slept enough; he seldom slept, and when he did, it was only ever for brief periods. He had to be vigilant and protect his wilderness; he had something else to protect too. His woman, the woman he had chosen to spare and save. The woman who had pleaded with him to save her.

Kane remained vigilant until the sound of bells rang in his ears. The ringing from trip wires and sensors he had placed about his land. Each sensor was attached by a wire to a particular bell and indicated where the trespassers were. Each bell was attuned to a certain key, and his hypersensitive hearing allowed him to work out where the intruders lay. Lyra was snoring softly. He eased himself away from her and stroked out of the room to collect his machete. The anger was welling; intrusion after intrusion destroyed his peace. He twisted the blade in his hand and marched into the dawn.

Sunrays brightened the room, and Lyra stirred in the light. She reached out but found herself alone. Kane had vanished. She called his name a few times, but there was no response. She was alone. The slackened binds allowed her some movement; she tried to pull her hands out. There was not enough room, so she twisted her wrists backwards and forwards and wiggled until the rope gave greater leeway. Her hands formed fists; she stretched at the rope and fidgeted a little more until one hand broke free from her shackles. The other bind was tighter, so she picked at it with her free hand, hoping to release herself whilst there was still time.

Hunters, ridiculous weak men who preyed on defenceless animals for fun. A pair of hunters, probably from out of the state, crouched behind a grassy mound overlooking the lake. Kane watched them from the trees behind. If they were successful, then they would return with others to haunt his land. Fortunately, there were only two of them on this occasion, and it would not take long to rid his wilderness of them. He watched as they loaded their rifles and aimed over the grass at some ducks that floated carelessly on the shimmering lake. Two bearded, chubby men dressed in camouflage stretched out on the mound; he would remove them for good, the bald one and the one with round glasses.

The bald one took a shot. A stream of ducks flew into the air, but one fell. The bald man leapt to his feet and punched a chubby arm into the air; he then sauntered over the grass and into the water, readily clad with waders, to collect his catch. The man with glasses remained behind the grass, watching. The bald man entered the water and paddled out to the spot where his catch lay, splashing up water as he did. Leaves crunched through the outskirts of the woodland, causing the bespectacled man to jump to his feet, turning to see what the noise was.
‘Hey, big fellow, what are you dressed as?’ he laughed, seeing Kane towering over him. Kane’s hands snapped up, locking on either side of the man’s head and twisting it fully around, causing a terrible cracking sound. He let the body drop and waited.

Lyra tussled for some time with the rope; she pulled and struggled with the knot. It was tight, and the more she pulled, the more it seemed to bite into her. She dug her fingers beneath the bind and tried to wiggle them to widen the gap. Her wrist chafed with rope burns, but she persisted none the less. Intermittently, she called Kane’s name to ensure that he was still absent. She would then return to pulling at the rope. He had spared her so far, but she had seen his temper and feared that his patience might not last.

The bald man stomped back up to the grass with a dead duck dangling from between his fingers. He could see his comrade lying in the grass.
‘Hey, Bill, you gone to sleep there?’ he joked as he headed up the mound. His eyes adjusted, and he stopped dead in his tracks. His friend’s neck was broken, more than broken; his head was fully twisted, and his wide-open eyes stared unblinking, rolled back into his head. ‘What the…’ he began. His sentence was cut short as a machete sliced his head in two between the eyes. Kane grabbed his leg and caught the twisted man’s leg too as he stomped past his corpse. The two bodies were dragged into the woods to be disposed of.

Lyra finally broke free. She struggled to remove her bound hand from the rope and grazed and burned her wrist and fingers as she pulled herself free. She threw off the duvet cover and rushed to the front room. There on the floor were the items of clothing that Kane had collected and her wet trainers. She rapidly slid a dry pair of leggings on her naked legs and yanked on her trainers. Without a second glance, she threw open the door, expecting to run to freedom. Her expectations were cut short when she saw the blood-soaked blade.

Kane stomped into the cabin, pushing her aside, and slammed the door shut, sliding the top bolt across. Lyra slunk into the sofa, her eyes fixed on the blade. Kane ignored her and picked up a rag. He stood at full height over her and used the rag to slowly and deliberately wipe the blood from the blade. Lyra opened her mouth in an attempt to explain what she was doing out of her binds but closed it again as she realised there was nothing that she could say that would serve any purpose. Kane’s chest heaved deeply; the rage had not yet subsided, and it had been further agitated by his woman’s obvious intransigence. He ran the rag up and down the blade for several long, painful minutes and relished in watching her cower before him.

Lyra remained still; she had allowed herself to forget what he was. He had held her so tightly, so protectively, that she had almost felt secure. It was not a feeling that she was accustomed to, having moved from place to place seeking her success since college. She never remained anywhere long enough to build meaningful relationships; she had never known what it was like to be wanted. Kane had given her that; he had made her feel wanted. She wondered if it was the sadist in him, the beast, that made her experience that security, albeit briefly.

Once the blade was clean, Kane dropped the rag to the floor. He stared through his mask at his woman. The fear was back in her eyes, and he liked her that way. She had disobeyed him; he flicked at the hilt and rapidly raised the machete over his head. The blade hung over her. She did not move; there was nowhere for her to go. Kane released the weapon and it fired into the floor by her feet. Lyra’s eyes closed as relief filled her.

She thought that Kane would drag her back to the bedroom and tie her up again, but he did not. There was no need. He knew that she was too afraid to act with him there.
‘Kane,’ she muttered at length and reached her arms out to him submissively. The rage subsided unexpectedly; he saw the resignation in her face and pulled her up into his strong, masculine arms. She was his woman, and he had no intentions of letting her go.

Kane 10 – Chapter Ten: Desire

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-10-chapter-ten-desire/

Holding Lyra was not enough for Kane; he wanted to show her that she had been chosen and now belonged to him. He stretched his arm to retrieve one of the rags that he had left on the floor and took it in both hands to straighten it out. Lyra instinctively shied away from the creature, terrified of his intentions. Kane shifted and held the rag in front of her eyes, indicating that he wanted to blindfold her.
‘No way!’ Lyra mumbled. Kane tugged the rag, forcefully gesturing once again that he intended to blindfold his victim.

Lyra shivered, terrified of what he might do to her. Harlon’s warning hummed in her head; she would live all the time that she surrendered and obeyed. With a slight nod, she closed her eyes and waited. Kane was surprisingly gentle as he tied the rag around her head, not the stealthy and powerful creature that she had seen the previous night.

Kane looked on his woman; she was shaking, still petrified of his wrath. He delighted in her fear. Motionless, he watched her for some time, cowering before him. Once Kane was sure that she would not try to remove the blindfold, he slid off the mask, revealing a face warped with deformity on the right side. His right eye hung lower than the left, his lip twisted cruelly under a crooked and misshapen nose, and his skin creased horrendously. It was a face that had attracted cruelty from his drunken father, abuse from spiteful children and hate from all who had seen it except for his adoring mother.

Lyra waited nervously; she felt his gaze boring through her soul and dreaded his intentions. For a time, he was still, but then he moved closer; his mouth brushed against her neck softly. Lyra remained still, frightened to move. Kane parted his lips and grazed his teeth against her skin. Whilst doing so, he slid his gloves off and reached one arm around her head so that his hand rested in her hair. His teeth scraped along her throat and bit lightly; Lyra gasped as her stomach knotted. It had been many years since anyone had been close to her.

With his free hand, Kane tipped his woman’s head, allowing him to kiss and bite deeply. His tongue caressed her neck until it hit her most sensitive spot. Lyra inadvertently released a soft moan; her body was betraying her fear-filled mind. Kane rested his mouth on her sweetest spot for some time, teasing the skin with his tongue and teeth. Lyra’s breathing deepened as Kane quickened the pace of his nips, rising a line of kisses from her throat to her cheek. His hand pushed her further back into the sofa, and with his knees, he parted her legs and climbed between them, forcing her into submission with his intense body. Lyra did not fight; her mind had passed the turmoil of processing the conflicting emotions of fear and desire and sank into complete surrender.

Kane’s fingers grasped Lyra’s hair; his mouth brushed across her cheek, over her forehead and slid down to her lips. He used his tongue to part her lips and drove his mouth hard against hers as his tongue penetrated her. Lyra sank into a pleasurable trance as his body rubbed against hers. Her hands moved as if with a will of their own over his firm body, and she brushed her tongue back against his as she responded to his passionate kiss.

She was running away from him and he was stalking her. She was pinned in his grip, begging him to release her. Kane, save me. The image filled Kane’s mind as he drove his tongue deeper into her mouth. Lyra felt the creature harden against her belly. His hand wound around her hair and pulled it tightly. A fresh feeling doused Lyra’s fears; she wanted him, the killer, the monster. She actually wanted to feel him inside her. Her legs wrapped about his hips, and her body writhed against the hardness of him.

She smelled different, his woman; her scent had quite changed, and he was attuned to it. It excited him, as did her exquisite response to his touch. He knew that she had no choice but to obey, but he had not expected her to return his affections. He wanted more, desperately wanted to release years of isolated tension into her and to claim her completely.

Lyra was lost; morally lost, emotionally lost and completely lost to her own body’s forgotten desires. She could not see, only feel, and the feeling of him touching her for his own pleasure was tantalising a longing within her. Knowing how dangerous Kane was only served to fuel her need. As Kane’s arousal grew, so too did his aggression; the strength of his grip and the forcefulness of his mouth. Lyra accepted his ardour hungrily.

Kane dropped his mouth down below her chin and ran his teeth back down her throat. Kane, save me. The words thrilled his ears, and the thought of her begging and suffering at his hand drove him on. Viciously, he bit into her neck. Lyra cried out; her cries sank into imploring whimpers as he sucked on her flesh. Her fingers dug into his back as she desperately savoured the pain. She could feel the urgency welling up in her belly gain momentum.

Her hair was released, dropping her head onto the arm of the sofa, and in a rapid motion, he ripped open her shirt, slackening his bite. Kane dropped his mouth to her exposed breasts. He had only intended to kiss her, to show her who she belonged to, but that moment had passed. He had not expected her to respond to him so vigorously, and her urgency drove him on. His teeth clasped a nipple, and his tongue flicked against its hardness.

Lyra’s whimpers grew into moans as Kane moved against her, rigid in his need. Lyra could feel her own wetness responding to every stroke. His hands moved up her ribs, feeling her breasts as he bit; one hand rose to her throat and, in the same motion that he had used so violently the previous night, he squeezed. This time, he had no intention of causing injury, but the feeling of her falling to his strength was too delicious not to indulge in. Lyra did not fight, her body so consumed with pleasure; one touch in the right spot would have instantly tipped her over the edge. Just as the ecstasy began to consume her, Kane pulled away.

Lyra lay shaking; she could hear Kane fumbling around with his mask. His hands quickly covered her breasts with what remained of her shirt.
‘Kane?’ Lyra queried, wondering why he had abandoned her in her moment of wanton desire. Her hands reached for the blindfold and lifted it off. Kane’s face was once again covered, and he stood facing the door. ‘Kane, what is it?’ she asked. Almost immediately, the door swung open and Harlon staggered in.

The old man stared for a short time as he took in the scene before his eyes. A smirk swept over his face, and Lyra knew that he understood what had just happened. He fixated on Lyra’s semi-exposed body. Kane took one possessive step towards the man and towered over him, making Harlon turn his attention back to the monster.
‘I bought you something I thought you might need, boy,’ he said, pulling open his tatty old coat. ‘I got these off of…’ He cast his eyes back to Lyra and hesitated briefly. ‘Off of that business yesterday.’ Out of his pocket, he pulled a pair of handcuffs. ‘Thought they might come in useful,’ Harlon continued. ‘And I made you this.’ The old man rummaged back down his pocket and pulled out a scabbard.

In Lyra’s stupor, it took a few seconds to register what was occurring. The handcuffs; he had handcuffs, the sort a sheriff might use. Lyra winced; Sean was dead, fallen by Kane’s hand. Kane slid the handcuffs into a tool belt that he wore on his waist; he would not let them go to waste. Lyra watched him; she knew that the old man had only one reason for bringing them to Kane, so that he could chain her up! Lyra’s heart started to beat faster as she rose from her perverse trance and remembered that she was the beast’s prisoner. Kane’s hypersensitive ears heard his woman’s anxious heart racing as he fixed the scabbard to his thigh.

Lyra covered up her modesty as well as she could and sat up so that her back pressed against the sofa’s corner. Harlon eyed her again as Kane practised sheathing and unsheathing his machete. ‘You alright there, missy?’ he asked almost sympathetically. Lyra was not sure how to reply. She was a killer’s captive, and she had almost allowed her kidnapper to violate her; she wanted him to violate her. In her mind, she was far from alright, but to appease Kane, she simply answered,
‘Yes.’ Harlon nodded. The old man had only ever known Kane to kill and lived at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey to cope, but he had never seen Kane take a prisoner and he had no doubt of his intentions.

‘How about Old Harlon makes you some stew?’ the old man offered, not really knowing how to cope with Kane’s new proclivity. Lyra forced a smile.
‘That would be nice.’ She was not particularly hungry but knew that she had not eaten that day and realised that she would need to keep her strength up if she had any hope of outwitting her captor.
‘I have to go back to my place to make it, but I won’t be long,’ Harlon assured her with a nod before turning on his heel and leaving. Kane continued to rip his machete in and out of his scabbard with disturbing delight. Lyra watched the proficiency with which he wielded the weapon and wondered how he had seduced her so magnificently. He had brought her so close to peaking, and Lyra knew that, had he succeeded, she would be undone, lost to the monster.

Kane secured his machete in the scabbard and stared through the window into the woods. The woman’s breathing filled his ears, her breathing and her scent. She had made him feel sensations that were almost alien to him; she had a power over him that he could not fathom. His hand dropped to his tool belt and gathered the cuffs; if she was out of his way, then her power would diminish. Lyra’s heart missed a beat as he turned to her, holding the cuffs out. The man who was so passionate had turned once again into the monster.

Giant breaths consumed Kane as he stared at Lyra, handcuffs dangling ready at his fingertips. His chest heaved with a violent lust. Lyra recoiled, curling her knees up to her chest.
‘Kane, please don’t do this,’ she begged, pre-empting his intentions. The monster strode slowly and purposefully towards his victim. ‘Please, Kane, don’t do this,’ she pleaded again.

In one swift movement, the beast lifted Lyra and threw her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. Lyra struggled against him, but to no avail. Kane strode to the hall and kicked open the trapdoor. He dropped down into the hole and strode to the corner basement beam. He loosened his grip on the woman and she slid down his body until he loomed over her and their bodies pressed together. Kane dropped his head and breathed in her scent.

‘Kane, please don’t do this!’ Lyra implored. ‘Don’t leave me down here.’ The scent of the woman combined with her begging was too much; Kane’s body hardened in response. He had to escape from the strange hold that overwhelmed him. He leaned into her, taking both of her tiny hands into his, and forced her down to the ground. As he did, he pushed her against the beam and dragged both hands around it, clasping them firmly together in the cuffs. The lock was secured tightly, biting into Lyra’s wrists. Kane stood quickly and strode towards the tunnels.
‘Kane!’ Lyra shouted in a final attempt to secure some freedom. ‘Don’t leave me here.’ Kane stopped dead in his tracks but did not turn. ‘Please, Kane,’ she whimpered one last time. Please, Kane. Her words caused so many sensations in the creature’s body. In response, he marched into the tunnels, leaving Lyra alone in the darkness.

Kane 11 – Chapter Eleven: Tension

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-11-chapter-eleven-tension/

Feeling used, fearful and hurt, Lyra pulled her knees up to her chest and dropped her face into her own lap, allowing tears to fall. Far along the corridor in the darkness, Kane stopped and stood motionless, listening to her; the woman, his woman, was suffering, and as much as he pitied her, his merciless desire to inflict pain prevented him from returning. Instead, he relished her torture for a few moments; the rage and lust welled within him. Eventually, he strode on and marched, wrathful, into a side nook and collected a full quiver and bow. He slung the weapon on his back. No bells had rung, but not everyone tripped his alarms; there was always some thrill-seeker mooching around his land. He would find them, and they would endure the lust-filled rage that haunted him.

Although Lyra could not see her nemesis, she sensed that he had heard her cries. A feeling penetrated her belly and she raised her head, convinced that he was listening in the distance. She hoped that he would return and release her from the filthy basement, but he did not. Such confusion; two days ago, she had left her lonely life in the city to find a secret paradise. Her life in New York had been one of creativity and exhibitions, after-parties and wine, but she was wholly alone and would return to her apartment drenched with the agony of isolation. Venturing into the wilderness would not relieve the isolation, but she had hoped for some personal peace that can only be found in nature’s paradise.

She had not allowed anyone into her personal space and had left her home on the West Coast at a young age due to her parents’ constant arguments. The city seemed like a lifetime ago. No one had touched her for so long; she believed herself impenetrable, yet this monster had stripped her emotionally bare. She could not forget that he was a monster. Her life was in his callous hands, and that both terrified and thrilled her in a complex wave of emotions that stung her belly.

Rats scurried in the dark, disturbing Lyra further. She could hear their scraping and squeaking; her own breath increased at the prospect of being eaten alive. Every so often, she kicked her legs out to keep the rodents at bay. Each time she tried to frighten the animals off, they seemed to creep closer, as if understanding that she was restrained. Lyra continued to flail her legs, but the squeaking grew ever closer. Mustering her strength, she called desperately into the darkness.
‘Kane, help me!’ The rats brushed against her legs. ‘Kane, save me.’ There was no answer. Deep in the tunnels, carrying his crossbow on his back, Kane heard those words again: Kane, save me. He closed his eyes and sucked his need in with one deep breath before climbing through another trapdoor.

Lyra’s head drooped, resigned to her fate, whatever it may be. She would either suffer the rats or fall at Kane’s blade; either way, the will to fight had left her. She could only wait for Kane’s return, if he returned to her. The cuffs were biting into her skin, and she knew that sooner or later, the pressure of her position would cause her to bleed and the rats would smell it.

‘Race you to the raft, Michael!’ a scrawny brunette girl called, slipping off her clothes as she raced down the beach towards the lake. At the edge of the woods, a muscular lad stared appreciatively, his blond hair flicked back over his chiselled jawline in the breeze.
‘I’m not getting in that cold water, Helena,’ he shouted after her. Helena looked back over her shoulder as her bra slid off and laughed.
‘Things will turn cold if you don’t come,’ she teased. Michael sauntered down the beach behind her. By the time he had kicked off his shoes and clothes and his feet had met the shoreline, Helena was fully immersed and twisting over and back as she swam towards the raft.

Michael’s feet caught the chill of the water, but seeing the girl’s breasts floating wildly on the surface drove him on. He waded in after her and followed her lead towards the wooden raft that sat in the distance.
‘Wait up!’ he yelled as she raced ahead. As an athlete, Michael easily found the body strength to freestyle to her. Helena laughed again, turned and pushed herself forward. His splashing stopped! Helena scanned the shimmering water; her partner had vanished. A cold chill shivered through her.
‘Michael!’ she screamed nervously. Nothing! ‘Michael, this isn’t funny.’ Suddenly, her body was dragged beneath the surface with a terrific strength.

Beneath the surface, a scuffle ensued as Helena wrestled Michael playfully.
‘That is so not funny,’ she gasped as their heads surfaced. Michael met her gasp with a kiss, and she returned his passion. The two embraced, their tongues locked, until Helena released the man and dashed to the raft. She pulled herself up onto the wood and wiped her soaking hair from her face. Worn out, she slumped down and closed her eyes, taking the fresh air deep into her lungs.

Kane had been watching. He had watched the girl’s grossly inappropriate display, baring her breasts. His thoughts drifted to the woman chained in his basement; her torn shirt had long since fallen away and she was imprisoned topless, her beautiful breasts exposed and totally at his mercy. The thought stirred the beast within. He removed the bow and raised it whilst reaching for an arrow. With perfect aim, he pulled the string back, readying the dart for propulsion. The girl was lying oblivious on the raft, but the man was still in the water. Kane released the string, and the arrow shot through the air with a whistle and embedded itself between Michael’s eyes, passing through his head and out of the other side. The man’s body twitched and then sank into the water.

‘Stew!’ Lyra opened her eyes as a torch waved in her face. She blinked, adjusting to the light. Harlon knelt before her. ‘Stew!’ he repeated, holding a plastic container and spoon in front of her.
‘Help me!’ she whispered. Harlon sighed, wishing that he could. He scooped some of the stew from the container and she opened her mouth responsively, and the old man fed her. As she ate, he spoke softly.
‘I can’t help ya, missy!’ he exclaimed. ‘I wish I could, but I can’t. The boy wouldn’t much care for Old Harlon interfering like that.’ Harlon stared down at her exposed breasts. ‘That ain’t right now, is it?’ he asked, putting the container down. Harlon slipped off his coat and then an old green cardigan. It seemed impossible to navigate around the handcuffs, so he buttoned the cardigan up over her breasts and looped the sleeves in a knot about the back of her neck to secure it in place. Lyra let out a sob, but the old man ignored it and resumed the task of feeding her.

Michael’s splashing had ceased once again. Helena sat up and peered across the water, using her hand to shield her eyes from the glimmer of the sun.
‘Michael!’ she called at length. ‘Come on, Michael, the joke is getting old now!’ The waters stilled. Helena stared and waited, expecting her partner to burst through the surface in an attempt to frighten her. He did not emerge. She waited a little longer; an awful feeling shot through her heart. ‘Michael! Michael!’ she shouted anxiously, but he still did not emerge. She cast her gaze back to the beach, scanning the shoreline until her stare settled on something mortifying.

Kane watched as Helena edged to the back of the raft. He observed, watching her terror grow, and then stepped into the water, wading towards her slowly and deliberately. His feet remained fixed to the lakebed as the waters deepened. Helena watched in horror as the masked giant headed towards her, steadily being submerged by the lake until she could no longer see him. Her quickened breaths filled the air, and she shifted from one edge of the raft to another, looking into the water for the monster. The silence cast a hideous, grim sensation into the atmosphere. Helena again checked the water surrounding her until she noticed some ripples coming close to the wood from the direction of the beach. She tried to fix her stare on the movement.

In an instant, the raft tipped up as Kane flew from the waters behind her. Helena rolled into the water. The raft had collapsed back into its original position, and the monster stood on it, heaving with rage as the waters calmed. The bow was secured back on his back, and he reached for the hilt of his machete, which screeched as he pulled it menacingly from the scabbard. The weapon twisted in his hands. Helena’s legs trod the water beneath the waves; she gasped and then swam vigorously towards the shore.

As her panic-stricken body reached the shallows, Helena looked back to see if the monster was following. The waters behind her were still, and the raft empty. She heaved herself onto the beach and checked her surroundings again. Her heart thudded fearfully in her chest and echoed through her ears. Ripples formed on the water, and without hesitation, Helena ran back up the trail through the woods. Trees seemed to crack all about her, and her bare feet tore on the debris of twigs shed on the forest floor. She stopped again and looked around. The snap of a branch cracking reverberated down the trail. Helena turned and headed into the woods.

Naked and vulnerable, she hid in the hollow of a large tree trunk. It offered little protection as daylight bore down on her through the trees. She glanced around the silent forest but could see no one. Helena slunk back into the hollow; as she did, the hairs on her neck rose, sensing a dark presence. A huge, gloved hand grabbed her neck and lifted her nubile body up from the floor, squeezing ferociously. Helena struggled and kicked against his massive body, but to no avail.

Kane stared at the girl; her peril reminded him of Lyra. He thought of Lyra helpless in his grip, begging him to save her and lying beneath him, responding so wantonly to his touch. Arousal, bloodlust and desire consumed him; rage and wrath boiled with the tension. He thought again of Lyra: Kane, save me. It was too delicious. He unsheathed his machete and, with one furious sweep of his hand, drove it angrily through the girl’s chest, pinning her to the tree. Kane’s head tilted as he watched the life leave Helena’s eyes. A gloved hand clasped the blade and wrenched it cruelly from the body. Helena sank to the forest floor. Kane grabbed one leg and headed deeper into the forest, dragging the body behind him for disposal.

Lyra swallowed the last mouthful of stew and Harlon dropped the spoon into the container, closing the lid.
‘Please don’t leave me down here,’ Lyra muttered. ‘There’s rats in here.’ Harlon crouched in front of her.
‘Even if I could help you, I don’t have the key,’ he replied.
‘How can you live with yourself?’ Lyra scolded. ‘How can you watch as that thing kills?’ The old man looked her up and down and threw his coat back on, removing the whiskey flask as he did.
‘I don’t!’ he snapped, waving the drink in her face. ‘I survive, missy, like you’re surviving, doing what you have to do so he don’t go killing ya!’ Lyra stared in the old man’s eyes; he had nowhere to go and was as much a prisoner as she was. Her mind clicked at the thought.
‘Harlon, get me out of here and I will take you with me. I’ll help you. Please!’

Kane 12 – Chapter Twelve: Thwarted

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-12-chapter-twelve-thwarted/

Harlon stared at Kane’s captive for some time, mulling over her words in his head.
‘I’m sorry, missy, I can’t leave the boy. I’m all he’s got!’ The old man took a swig of his whiskey and continued, ‘Besides, I don’t got nowhere else. This is my home.’ A tear fell from Lyra’s eye and rolled down her cheek.
‘He’ll kill me, Harlon.’ She waited for a response, but the old man simply took another drink. ‘Won’t he?’ she tried to coax further.
‘I don’t know,’ the old man replied honestly. ‘I mean, the boy’s never took a prisoner before.’ Harlon thought about what he had seen earlier in the day. ‘Did he touch you?’

Lyra’s face flushed. He had touched her and she had wanted it. She thought of his weight pushing against her, her body writhing against his. Her eyelids grew heavy and her teeth scraped along her lower lip. Harlon recognised her response and raised his eyebrows.
‘Guess so!’ he mumbled.
‘He turned so quickly,’ Lyra whispered.
‘Boy’s never had no one close to him before. Seen a lot, but no one really wanted him ’cept his mother.’ The head in the wall; the image flashed before Lyra’s eyes. The only person who ever loved him, and that was his shrine to her.

‘He’s different, you see. People don’t like different,’ Harlon stammered.
‘He’s a killer,’ Lyra interjected, her mind still caught between passion and fear.
‘He is that!’ Harlon replied. ‘He just wants to be left in peace out here. See, people around here, they know not to come, but there’s always outsiders treading on his land.’ Harlon thought of the Penroses. ‘And locals, well, they should know better.’
‘Why is he doing this to me?’ Lyra cried softly. ‘Why doesn’t he just kill me and get it over with?’ Harlon put his arm around her.
‘He must see something in you he likes. That’s all I can think.’ Harlon held her and let her cry into his chest.
‘Harlon, please ask him to take me out of here, the rats,’ Lyra whispered between sobs.
‘I will, pet,’ the old man whispered sympathetically.
‘Please don’t let him hurt me,’ she continued. Harlon stroked her hair; he could not make her any promises. As useful as he was to the boy, he knew that Kane could crush him if he chose to.

‘Have I got any chance of escaping?’ Lyra asked, hoping that if there was a way out, Harlon would tell her.
‘No, love,’ the old man said sadly. ‘The boy’s different to other folks. He can’t be hurt.’
‘He can,’ Lyra insisted, remembering how he had buckled when she kneed him.
‘No, he can feel pain, but it passes. He gets hurt; it heals straight away. He’s different, you see, strong like you don’t understand.’ Harlon tightened his hold on her as she continued to cry.
‘What can I do?’ Lyra pleaded. ‘I mean, what can I do?’
‘Survive,’ the old man interjected. ‘I told you, do as he wants.’

‘I don’t know what he wants. He doesn’t speak!’ Lyra exclaimed desperately.
‘He’ll let you know what he wants,’ Harlon replied knowingly. ‘He always does.’
‘You know you’re a prisoner too, don’t you?’ Harlon released his hold on her and took a drink.
‘I chose my fate long time since,’ he explained. ‘Since I pulled that boy from the lake, watched him grow up feral.’
‘How many people has he killed?’ Lyra questioned, unsure as to whether she wanted to hear the answer.
‘Lost count long ago,’ Harlon muttered nonchalantly.
‘No one tries to stop him?’ Lyra wondered aloud.
‘Oh, they tried! Like I said, best leave him alone.’

Footsteps echoed through the tunnels; heavy, thundering strides hurtled in Lyra’s direction.
‘He’s coming!’ Harlon muttered.
‘Don’t let him leave me down here with the rats,’ Lyra begged as Harlon stood up. The footsteps closed in and the monster emerged from the darkness, striding straight past Lyra without even glancing at her. He marched to the trapdoor and climbed up the ladder. Harlon scurried after him, leaving Lyra alone once again.

Kane dropped his quiver in the corner of the front room and stood waiting for the old man who followed him.
‘Boy, you can’t go leaving that girlie in the basement,’ Harlon began. ‘Rats will get at her.’ Kane stared at him through the mask, unflinching. ‘I dunno where you’re going with that girl, but you can’t leave her down there like that,’ Harlon reiterated. Kane tilted his head as if listening. The rage was subsiding, but the passion still boiled through him, the passion for the woman. With a flick of his hand, Kane signalled for the old man to leave. ‘I’m going, I’m going,’ he responded. ‘Just don’t let her suffer,’ he muttered as he departed.

Lyra was suffering, and Kane wanted to make her suffer in so many ways, just as she was making him suffer unwelcome sensations. He listened to her sobbing in the dark and closed his eyes, inhaling the delight of it. She wanted him and surrendered to him; he wanted to make her do it again. Kane marched from the front room to his bedroom and stared through his mask into the mirror. She would never want him if she saw his face. He tilted his head to the side. Never. His hand curled into a fist and shattered the glass with a dreadful force.

Kane was still angry; Lyra could hear him destroying things upstairs. The rats were back. Lyra kicked out at them, but this time, they did not run. Instead, they climbed into her lap and started gnawing at her leggings and tearing at her skin.
‘Kane!’ Lyra shouted. ‘Kane!’ she called again. Kane had shifted his anger from the mirror to the walls. Lyra wondered if this was his intention, to leave her to the rats. He continued to pound at the walls as the rats climbed higher. ‘God, help me!’ Lyra screamed. The rats gnawed into her skin. ‘God, help me!’ she screamed again. Kane stopped dead; her cries were different now, more pitiful, more dread-filled.

Lyra fidgeted and wriggled as hard as she could against the cuffs. They bit deeper into her wrists, but the rats bit harder. She kicked out and flailed hopelessly.
‘Get them off of me,’ Lyra cried as she struggled. Rapidly, Kane dropped through the trapdoor; the power of the thud drove the animals away. He stomped to the woman and, in an instant, unlocked the cuffs, lifted her over his shoulder and ascended back into the main house, carrying her to the sofa.

He was torturing her; that was his plan, Lyra reasoned. He was going to continue to torture her for his own pleasure, playing with her mind and body like some toy. In spite of Harlon’s warnings, she would have to escape if she had any hope of survival. The bite marks bled, as did her wrists. Lyra realised that she would have to lull Kane into a false sense of security to enable her departure.

‘Kane,’ she whispered. His name on her lips was music to his ears, the most beautiful sound that he had ever heard. He snapped his head to look at her lying across the sofa.
‘Let me clean up and dress, please.’ Kane nodded and stalked out of the room, returning with a bowl of water. He poured the remains of the disinfectant into the bowl as Lyra removed her leggings and cardigan. Once she had stripped, he removed his gloves and tended her wounds. This time, she was awake, and she winced as the disinfectant stung her wounds. Kane relished the sound of her moans. As he moved the cloth over her, he took in the sight of her body.

Her naked, soft body, so fragile and tender, sprawled before his eyes and hands. He could easily break her, but he wanted something more. Lyra noticed his hesitation as he washed between her thighs. Harlon’s words echoed in Lyra’s mind; she would have to do whatever she needed to survive. Boldly, she clasped the man’s huge wrist; he snapped his head to look at her. For a second, Lyra hesitated, but inside she knew what she had to do. She feared it; feared him, how he could make her feel, what he could do to her and the evil within him.

‘Thank you, Kane,’ she whispered, releasing her hand and allowing her fingers to move up his arm. Kane’s body went rigid in response to her touch. He remained motionless as she trailed her hands up to his neck and drew him close to her. The warmth of her body awoke his desire. Lyra gently moved her fingers to his mask. A strong hand instantly gripped her wrist. She stilled under his power. Kane looked over his woman; she was his woman, she had been his woman from the moment he had first laid eyes on her, and he was ready to claim her fully.

Reaching down, he took a rag in both hands and Lyra nodded submissively. Kane stretched the rag around her head, covering her eyes, and removed his mask. The passion that had built up into an unspent rage overwhelmed him, and his mouth instantly pressed against hers. Lyra responded, taking his tongue into her mouth. Her hand wrapped about Kane’s neck and her legs clasped his waist and drew him closer so that he was pressed up against her. Kane allowed the scent of her to fill him as he drew his mouth from her lips and down her throat, where he bit at the sensitive part of her neck.

Lyra breathed in sharply; she tried to reason that allowing him to use her was nothing more than a ruse to escape, but her reasoning failed as her body betrayed her. She shuddered audibly as his teeth ground into her throat. Kane felt her shudder and responded by sucking her skin into his mouth. His hand squeezed her breasts roughly and dropped down to her legs. He stroked her thighs and hips with his rough hands. In the darkness, Lyra caressed his throat, moving quickly to his cheek, back to his neck and down to his chest. She could feel his inhuman muscles clenching beneath her. Her fingers found the buttons of his boiler suit, and one by one, she released them as Kane slid his hand up towards her sex.

Her hands slid into the suit and pressed against him through his shirt. Tension welled deep inside of Kane and he drove his body against hers, rising his mouth back to her lips as he did. Her body arched beneath him and she tore open the remainder of his boiler suit. Kane felt himself harden at her need for him. His fingers moved to the apex of her legs and centred on the most delicate area. She arched again. The monster had her exactly where he had wanted her, as she surrendered to his touch.

Lyra pulled her hand from his chest and down to his belt buckle. She had passed the point of reasoning; she needed to feel the beast inside her, she ached for him. Kane flicked his thumb about her sensitive spot and worked at it with vigour. Lyra could feel waves building within her, desperate, dreadful waves in response to the killer’s decadent touch. She easily slid the belt open and worked his zip down, taking hold of his hardness. Her strokes were gentle at first, but soon met his rhythm. His woman was conniving and cunning; she would happily bring him to climax in the same way he had done for years, but that was not enough, and he had no intention of letting her thwart his satisfaction. Kane pulled away from her and slid both hands beneath her, lifting her from the sofa. Lyra sensed his thoughts, just as she had sensed his hesitation in the tunnels; her hands held his neck and she allowed him to carry her to his bed.

Kane 13 – Chapter Thirteen: Insatiable

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-13-chapter-thirteen-insatiable/

Kane laid Lyra naked and blindfolded on his bed. He forced his hands against her shoulders, commanding her to remain still as he undressed. A strange delight pulsed through Lyra’s belly as she heard the scabbard drop to the floor. She thought of him wielding the machete as he chased her, and a new passion entranced her. Her moan delighted Kane’s ears; with his hands, he parted her legs and climbed in between them. His hands fumbled behind her; Lyra waited. Her own wrists were quickly gripped, raised and tied with the rope that he had previously bound her with. She shivered and felt herself dampen in response to his dominance.

The monster slid down her body, biting her flesh as he did, until his mouth touched between her legs. Lyra had not expected this; her cheeks reddened and flushed with heat as he bit at her and used his tongue to flick at her. His hands forced her thighs further apart and his fingers drove higher until they met her soaking opening. Two thick fingers pressed against her and he gently eased them in. Lyra’s body stiffened in response, pressing against his fingers. Her shielded eyes flickered and rolled back, and her toes dug into the mattress. She had not anticipated this; it certainly formed no part of any escape plan.

He sucked at her sensitivity, drawing it cruelly between his teeth. Lyra sighed deeply, falling into a lusty trance. The waves were building in her stomach and she gulped, trying desperately to cling on to reality. Kane gently eased his mouth away from her and ran it along her stomach to her breasts. He shifted slightly and pulled his fingers away, placing his firmness against her opening. She had felt him, and his sex was as formidable as he was.

He teased her at first, stroking her with the tip. Lyra moaned great shivers of pleasure. His mouth caressed her breasts and then her neck. She could feel herself shaking under his commanding form. Kane’s own need had been driving him since he had met her, waking an angry, lust-filled beast. He could wait no longer to claim his woman. She was his woman, whether she liked it or not, and he would prove it to her. With one stealthy movement, he forced the whole of himself inside of her.

Lyra gasped; only her dampness saved her from the vastness of him. She bucked against him but was soon subdued as his mouth met hers. Kane used slow strides at first, pulling himself far enough to meet her sweet spot. Lyra’s legs wrapped about him and moved with him, driving him as deeply as possible inside of her. The waves multiplied with each thrust, and Kane felt his own need pressing with a malevolent urgency.

His tongue twisted about hers; he thought of her fear of him, gasping for breath as he raised her from the floor with his hands about her throat, but most of all, he thought of her begging him to save her. Save her from his own ferocity. His hand caressed her neck as he remembered; his drive doubled as he did. Lyra noticed as his hands splayed and his fingers wrapped about her throat, but he did not press, not this time. He would claim her in another way. He pushed his body against her, rubbing her sweetness passionately. She raised her hips to meet every thrust. The waves boiled within her as she groaned into his mouth. His ardour throbbed inside her and her body instantly responded, pulsing in an electric storm. Her wave peaked and she cried out whilst driving the waves hard down on him. Her cry was delicious, and Kane met his own peak, releasing years of pent-up need inside of her.

Lyra sank into the mattress; her body warmed in the afterglow of their passion. No one had made her feel like that ever. Her lips swelled and tingled with the thought of him. Her hands remained bound as Kane dressed and replaced his mask; her futile escape attempt that morning had not gone unnoticed. He dimmed the cabin lights as the sky darkened outside and removed her blindfold. Lyra was still shivering; her belly warmed as he touched her to remove the blindfold. She shifted her gaze from him shyly.

Kane stared at the woman he had taken and removed his machete from its scabbard with a clink. He stroked the blade across her body and watched as her doe eyes widened. Lyra’s fear had morphed into something more profound; it tantalised her. She gasped as the cold steel pressed against her naked, helpless body; her eyes fluttered in response. Something within her was changing; it was as if his touch had woken her from a long sleep. Kane dragged the blade along her skin to her throat and pressed the steel against her skin. Lyra’s eyelids drooped and her lashes overshadowed her face. She gulped slightly but remained motionless.

She cast her eyes over the blade, the same blade that had killed not a few hours ago. Kane pressed it further into her skin, ensuring that he did not mark her neck. The blade then lowered to her heart and pressed until blood was drawn. Lyra winced at the pain with a mixture of submissive pleasure and a burning sting. Kane tilted his head and raised his free hand as if to tell her to remain still. He drew the blade along her skin; Lyra shuddered. The blade dragged downwards, cutting into her. Lyra’s teeth bit at her bottom lip as she tried not to cry out. Kane twisted the hilt of the blade and flicked it towards her cleavage. The crimson hue of blood drowned out the shape of the wound. Kane returned his machete to his scabbard and disinfected her aching wound. Lyra’s eyes welled up with tears as the liquid burned into her, but she did not cry out. He had forbidden that.

At length, Kane led Lyra, with her hands still tied, to the bathroom to freshen up. He afforded her the privacy that she had previously requested and marched her back to the bed. He had not finished with her, not by a long way; he had waited so long to feed his inner demons that the need was soon growing within him again. There were still droplets of blood seeping from the fresh wound, and Kane doused the burning with a cool, damp cloth. Lyra looked down at the wound to see that he had carved the letter ‘J’ across her heart. He had branded her to show her that she belonged to him. Kane forced her back onto the bed; she complied without hesitation as the warm glow continued to fill her belly.

Through the mask, his eyes locked on hers and she held his gaze. He towered over her, taking in the pink tone of her skin and the hardness of her breasts. Her scent was so strong now; he had filled her, and he would fill her again. Lyra raised her hands to the headboard, expecting him to bind her tied wrists back up. He did not respond. He stood motionless, watching her; his body hardened as he took in every curve. His branding had only added to her beauty and her exquisite surrender.

After some thought, Kane flicked his hand, motioning for her to stand, and he perched himself on the bed in front of her, pulling her body into his face. Lyra quivered at his touch; his hands clasped her hips and, using his mighty strength, he drove her to her knees. His hand slid under her chin and he used his thumb to force her to look up at him. With the other hand, he unbuckled his tool belt and opened his boiler suit. His thumb shifted behind her head and he tipped her head forward, allowing her to take him in her mouth.

Obediently, Lyra responded, flicking her tongue over the tip before drawing him in. Kane took a deep breath and sighed as she allowed the giant member to fill her mouth. He pressed against the back of her throat. She lifted her bound hands to his shaft and gripped tightly, stroking as she sucked in as much as she could. Kane tipped his masked face back; the sensation was like nothing he had ever experienced. It quelled his rage, knowing that she was his willing victim. Lyra drove her mouth down against him, meeting her own hands with her lips. Kane’s giant hands grasped at her head and he twisted her hair tightly as she drove his excitement on.

The machete hung in its scabbard close to her face; her eyes shifted to it and it reminded her of how sinister the man was, sinister but so deliriously desirable. She took him in as deeply as she could, causing Kane to shake. His hand reached for the hilt of his machete and he drew it. His thumb slipped from her neck back to her chin and she released him from her mouth as he signalled for her to return to her place on his bed. Lyra conformed, offering him her complete trust. Kane parted her legs and slid the hilt up between them until it pressed against her.

Lyra flushed as the hilt of the machete penetrated her. Kane stretched his thumb to her sensitive spot and caressed her whilst carefully moving the weapon inside her. Her lips parted in response and she melted into the bed, with her bound wrists lying casually above her head. Her hips responded to the thrusts, rising to allow Kane access. His caress strengthened as he bent his thumb into her sweet spot, increasing the pressure of his touch gradually. Electric pulses filled Lyra’s belly; she moaned with pleasure until he withdrew the hilt and dropped it to the floor.

Kane turned and knelt on the bed between Lyra’s spread legs. He clasped her knees and drew her hips upwards, forcing her legs to clench about his own hips, and he thrust himself straight into her with one urgent movement. His girth stretched her already aching sex and he grasped her hips, pulling her tightly onto him. Lyra’s sensitivity burned with a new ferocity as she watched him, her masked abductor, drive into her. His eyes locked on hers and he drove against her with a new ardour; pure animalistic lust.

This was no longer the man that held her so ferociously; this was the monster that had choked her. Lyra tensed momentarily, but he drove deeper into her, forcing himself against her sweet spot as he did. She inhaled with a rasp and fell into a pleasurable stupor as the need welled inside her. Desperate moans flowed from her mouth as his stride intensified. His hardness shuddered desperately within her until he could bear it no more. Kane dropped his body onto hers and continued to force himself into her; his mask hovered over her face and their eyes remained locked together.

Lyra drew her bound hands over his head and embraced his neck, willing him to continue. Kane could see the desire in her heavy doe eyes; her lips tingled and swelled, and her feet pushed against his back. At that moment, she wanted him and nothing else mattered; the desperate need inside her overwhelmed all reason. She was simply a slave to temptation and to the masterful and powerful being that took her so delightfully. The waves scorched inside of her and, with each motion, she found herself begging for more.
‘Please, Kane,’ she moaned. Her words were exquisite and the pressure between Kane’s legs far too much to bear; the aching in Lyra’s sex matched his. He could feel the tension in her as her arms tightened about his neck. Lyra raised her head and pressed her mouth against Kane’s mask, both reaching the crest of their need. Kane pulsed inside her and instantly she peaked painfully as he released his own lust deep inside of her.

Kane 14 – Chapter Fourteen: Trust

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-14-chapter-fourteen-trust/

Lyra was emotionally and physically spent; so too was her captor. He fell next to her, his body pressing into hers in the tight space of his small bed. He felt her shiver as the night air drew in. Gently, he pushed his arms against her and moved so that he could manipulate the duvet up and over their bodies. For the first time in years, the rigid, motionless posture so familiar to him slipped away and he pulled her deeply into the security of his arms. The rope bit into her wrists and she knew that she would not sleep with the awkwardness of the sensation. Lyra pulled herself up and turned to her abductor, holding her wrists in front of him. Kane sat bolt upright and glared through the mask in the dimness of the hall light.
‘Take them off, Kane. I won’t run away,’ Lyra pleaded. ‘I promise.’ Kane nodded towards the machete that lay on the floor. Lyra’s eyes flicked over the glint of the blade and she lowered her head. ‘I won’t leave,’ she reiterated. Kane tilted his head. Lyra’s arms remained outstretched until Kane relented and loosened the knot, slipping the rope over her hands. Again, he nodded towards the weapon as a warning.

Lyra sank back down into the comfort of the mattress and Kane took her back into his grasp. His vast arms held her tightly so that her head pressed into the breast of his boiler suit. Her plans to escape had been subverted the moment her body gave in to his touch; years of self-imposed isolation manifested themselves as a deep loneliness and intense longing that only her captor had ever met. As territorially cruel as he was, he was also the source of the most delicious pleasure and protection. No one would ever hurt Lyra, not whilst she remained with Kane.

As his woman’s head nuzzled into his chest, Kane’s stomach knotted. He wondered if her affections had been a ruse to manipulate him, allowing her to leave; even if they were, her body’s response to him was genuine. He could still smell the sweet nectar that gave her desire away; he lowered his masked face to her, inhaling her sweet aroma. Whatever her intentions had been, she was now his and even bore his mark to prove it. She had not seen him unmasked; if she did, then she would not be so obliging in her response to him. He would never let that happen. She would never see him unmasked; he could not face her rejecting him with the disgusted look on her face that so many others had when they saw him. The rage began to swell within him; the others, the outsiders who had been so cruel; he had struck them down. If his woman rejected him in the same way, the demonic wrath inside him would strike her down, and he feared that it would be beyond his control.

‘Kane,’ Lyra whispered, sensing his growing tension. ‘Are you OK?’ He squeezed her briefly to offer his reassurance. She thought of his machete lying on the floor and how he had indicated that he would dispatch her should she try to run. Her body was drifting into a tired lull, but a concern haunted her mind. ‘You won’t hurt me, will you, Kane?’ Her abductor heard her question but knew that he could not make such a promise. In one way, seeing her suffer aroused him; in another, he knew that if she betrayed him, his anger would be unstoppable. He did not move in response to her question. ‘I’m tired, Kane. Just tell me you won’t kill me in my sleep.’ He squeezed her again. She turned her head up to look at him in response and kissed the part of his mask that covered his mouth before falling into a much-needed sleep.

She woke to the sound of bells ringing. Instantly, Kane leapt from the bed and buttoned closed his suit. He reattached his tool belt and scabbard and forced his machete into the sheath, all with inhuman stealth. Lyra stirred in response to the commotion and her weary eyes opened. The bell rang again, and she understood the implication.
‘Don’t go,’ Lyra muttered. Kane snapped his head to look at her and he partially drew the machete from its scabbard. He turned away from her briefly as if to leave and then snapped his entire body back in her direction. Lyra recoiled nervously. Kane reached into his tool belt and pulled out the handcuffs. ‘No, Kane. I told you I wouldn’t leave.’ He tilted his head as she spoke. ‘I won’t leave, I promise,’ she whispered. Kane ignored her, knowing that she had almost escaped that morning. He marched towards her and looped the chain of the cuffs through the rope hanging over the headboard. Lyra winced as he tightened the cuffs around her wrists. ‘Don’t do this, Kane,’ she begged. He did not know whether she referred to the impending executions or the manacling of her wrists, but it did not matter; both situations were not negotiable. He did not respond to her pleas; instead, he turned around and stalked out of the room. Lyra heard the trapdoor open and listened as he dropped into the tunnels and strode off to seek his prey.

Marietta had lived on the opposite side of the lake for many years. She knew not to venture into Kane’s wilderness, but like Harlon, she had not left the area when the disappearances began; instead, she lived as a recluse in her own cabin, intentionally ignoring the strange occurrences on the other side of the lake. Her only friend and helper had been Amy Penrose. Amy collected her groceries and carried out any financial business on her behalf in town. Over time, they had developed an understanding. Marietta had even warned her repeatedly not to sell Maple Cabin for fear of what Kane would do to the realtor. Her warnings had gone largely unheeded as Amy had hoped to cash in on the sale and leave the area, but she had promised to make alternative arrangements for Marietta’s care before she left. Marietta had waited for Amy all of the previous day, and Amy’s notable absence caused her concern.

As the day wore into the evening, Marietta’s concern deepened, and it deepened further when Amy did not arrive that morning. Again, she had waited all day and finally decided to try to reach the new owner of Maple Cabin under cover of darkness. Her cabin sat on a pier where she kept an old rowing boat. Once she was sure that all was quiet, she rowed, with the aid of a small flashlight, across the lake to Lyra’s beachfront. She alighted as speedily as she intended to leave. Marietta flicked the light across the cabin. The shutters were closed and the door open. Hastily, she entered the cabin and glanced about the place. It was empty, and she noticed that the locks on the door had been broken. Her heart sank; she had lost a companion and placed herself in the same danger that she had effectively avoided for many years.

Marietta backed quietly out of the cabin; her old heart began to pound in her chest with the realisation of her own terrible predicament; she had broken his rules and stepped into his wilderness. Carefully, she checked her surroundings and turned back to the boat. The woods were eerily quiet as she pushed the boat out of the shallows and climbed in. There was no movement, no indication that she had disturbed Kane’s peace. Her wrinkled old hands collected the oars and she began to row whilst vigilantly observing the environment around her. The only movement came from ripples on the lake and the occasional breeze that rocked the silhouette of trees on the shore.

The old woman arrived at her own pier unscathed, yet her heart continued to pound in her chest. She tied the boat to the pier and waddled back to her cabin. The lights were on, just as she had left them, and the front door was still closed. Marietta opened both screen and door and locked them behind her. The fire still burned in the stove; all was quiet. She wiped away a few silver strands of hair that had flopped out of her bun and over her glasses and put an old, tatty kettle on the stove to boil. Her frail form bent down and opened the kitchen cupboard, searching for a mug. She tutted impatiently as she rummaged. Finally, she found a clean one.
‘There we go,’ she muttered.

With the mug in hand, Marietta pushed her other palm into her back and stood up crookedly with a groan. As she did, her eyes focused on the window and its reflection. She blinked and blinked again. A tall, masked figure loomed over her. She spun around.
‘I… I’m sorry, I was just looking for…’ she began, but her words were cut short as the base of the kettle bludgeoned her face. Marietta let out a cry as the scalding metal drove into her skull. The cry was short-lived, and she fell to the floor.

For a few seconds, her body twitched. Kane swept the machete out of the scabbard, looped it about his head for momentum and sliced through his victim’s torso, severing her in two. The monster sheathed his machete and lifted the old woman’s upper torso by the hair whilst grabbing a leg from the lower body. With a powerful kick, the door swung open and he dragged the corpse out. He stared at the boat for a short while but chose instead to leave the way he had arrived, through the darkness of the forest.

Marietta knew the rules, Harlon reasoned as he watched Kane drop yet another body into the opening of the trapdoor; she knew and chose to ignore them. As sad as it was that the old woman had to die, all Kane was doing was protecting his wilderness from trespassers. Harlon tried to ignore the level of violence that Kane had clearly used, given the state of the body, and obediently set about dealing with the situation once the monster had disappeared back into the forest. Harlon secretly looked forward to the coming winter; people did not come so much in winter, so it was largely a peaceful time; no bodies to move and… Deal with!

Kane stood motionless, watching Lyra sleep. He was surprised that she had fallen back into such a profound slumber, given how she had pleaded with him not to leave her chained and not to kill. Nonetheless, she appeared so peaceful, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. Amazingly, Lyra had even managed to immerse herself comfortably in the bed despite the handcuffs. Kane reached into his tool belt for the keys, but the thrill of the kill and the sight of his captive lying so helplessly in his bed led him to drop them again.

The monster unbuckled his tool belt and allowed it to drop to the floor before removing his boots. He tilted his head to look at the machete in his scabbard. He withdrew it quickly and used an old rag to wipe off Marietta’s blood. The scabbard was unfastened, and Kane placed it next to the belt. As Lyra slept, he practised twisting and wielding his weapon, ultimately pointing it threateningly at his unconscious captive. She seemed so trusting, so exquisitely vulnerable. Her trust, he believed, was misplaced. He did not even trust himself, especially when she lay naked, chained and so ripe for the taking.

Kane 15 – Chapter Fifteen: Anthropophagite

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-15-chapter-fifteen-anthropophagite/

Gently, so as not to wake her, Kane pulled back the covers and allowed the blade to drop to her belly. She stirred under its coldness. Scraping his blade over her naked body triggered bizarre, electrifying urges within him. Lyra moaned in her sleep and fidgeted against the cuffs that bound her so decadently. Her nipples hardened as the icy weapon flitted over them, and he brought the point to the letter branding her chest. Lyra moaned again but did not wake. In an instant, he drew the blade across her throat without making contact. The electric pulses thudded through his belly and his eyes closed, enabling his senses to heighten to the sensation. No, he did not trust the beast within, not where Lyra was concerned.

Kane shuddered and dropped the machete to the floor. The metal gave out a clang, and Lyra’s weary eyes opened to the dimness of the room.
‘Kane?’ she muttered. The monster looked down at her. She looked so vulnerable, chained there. Lyra sighed heavily as a bizarre relief engulfed her. She was safe now. Kane would hold her and keep her safe from the world. Her eyes flickered and closed, oblivious to the danger that she was in. The bed sank as he forced his massive body up against hers, enraptured with the pulses belting through him. He pulled her back into his chest, and in her naivety, she buried herself deeper against him. The pulses turned to a burning need and, without warning, he pressed his rigidity into her.

Lyra cried out as he drove himself hard into her, unable to resist as her hands were still chained. Kane caught her hips and pushed her face down into the pillow without leaving her body. He fed the pulses with phenomenally hard thrusts, but it was not enough to sate his desire. Kane dug his right hand into her hair and pulled it hard so that she had to back up against him, driving him further inside. With his free hand, he reached down to the brand on her chest and dug his nails in. Lyra screamed; her scream was enough, and Kane instantly imploded, all of his needs satisfied, for a time.

His abrupt release was even more painful than his cruel handling of her. Lyra curled her knees up to her chest for comfort; he had overpowered her in the cruellest way, yet she still ached for his touch. As the powerful vibes escaped from his body, Kane stared at his victim; she was his woman, but without a doubt, she was also his ultimate victim. She woke demons within him that had been dormant; now he could not help acting on the plethora of instincts that consumed him. The monster looked over his woman with a strange, sweet sorrow and eventually pulled her into his arms as he perched on the edge of the bed. There was only one way that he could continue keeping her and ensure her safety, but it was a bridge he was afraid to cross. Lyra’s head dropped into his lap, and he allowed her to sleep peacefully for the rest of the night.

Lyra woke to the sounds of talking from the front room. Harlon had arrived early and was talking at length with Kane; she could not hear what he was saying, just the muffled sound of his voice. To her surprise, Kane had unbound her and she was free to freshen up and dress without interruption. Escape was not an option, not with Kane standing in the next room, and certainly not following his obvious and unpredictable changes of mood. Lyra dressed in her primary item of clothing: black leggings and a matching shirt. The bathroom mirror had been broken, but she was still able to glance at herself; her hair was greasy and skin oily. She needed a bath. She glanced at Kane’s tub; it was filled with stale water of an ominous hue. She wondered if Kane would allow her to bathe in her own cabin.

Harlon stopped speaking the second that Lyra entered the room. The old man was in the kitchen area, unloading some containers of his stew and boiling the kettle in an eerily normal manner. Kane stood motionless in the front room, staring out of the window. Lyra noticed his constant vigilance and dislike of outsiders; perhaps the man just wanted peace. As if hearing her thoughts, Harlon interjected,
‘I already told you, missy, he’s not a man. He’s not like other men.’
‘How?’ Lyra managed to stammer out.
‘Guess Old Harlon is so used to the silence he hears things others don’t,’ he mumbled whilst handing her a mug of tea. ‘I hear the boy there. He don’t have to say anything,’ Harlon continued, waving his hand in Kane’s direction.

Lyra slumped on the sofa and sipped at her tea as the old man continued.
‘I guess I could tell him you want a bath, but he probably knows that now, don’t he?’ Lyra gulped with annoyance; her privacy was invaded in the most personal way.
‘So, can you hear everything I’m thinking?’ she demanded irately. Harlon chuckled.
‘No, missy, that I can’t do. I just pick up on those things you want picked up on.’ He took a sip from his flask. ‘But I don’t hear ya, it’s just a feeling I get.’ He nodded to Kane. ‘Truth be told, I think the boy made me that way.’ Kane did not move.

‘The boy says he will take you for a bath and you can get whatever you need.’ Harlon smiled before she could open her mouth. ‘Well, I don’t suppose it matters if he sees you in the bath or not now, does it?’ Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, and she decided against asking any further silly questions. ‘Mind you, he wants something in return!’ Lyra squinted; what more could the creature take from her?
‘He wants to watch you draw!’ Her art; she had forgotten about her art and her career. She had moved to the wilderness to be alone with her art and scan her work for exhibition and sale.

‘My work?’ Lyra muttered, deep in thought.
‘That’s what he wants. He thinks you spoke to him through some painting of yours.’ Harlon took another swig. ‘Yep, that he does,’ he added thoughtfully.
Lyra looked up at Kane, but he remained perfectly still.
‘I can do that, but I need a bath!’ she insisted.
‘You’ll get your bath, but first you eat. Got to keep your strength up.’ The old man shuffled back to the kitchen and brought her some stew. Lyra looked up at Kane and the old man followed her gaze. ‘Don’t worry ’bout him, missy. He’s already eaten.’ The smell of food had made Lyra hungry and she ate quickly.
‘What is in this?’ she asked whilst scooping more into her mouth.
‘Home-grown vegetables and meat,’ Harlon answered quickly, adding, ‘Best of home-grown vegetables!’
‘What meat? Unusual taste.’ Lyra continued without a second thought.

Harlon looked to Kane, and Kane slowly turned to face his companions, tilting his head at the old man. Some secret seemed to pass between the two.
‘Best of cattle,’ Harlon snapped abruptly. ‘Best of cattle. Now you go finishing it, so none don’t go to waste.’ Lyra’s chewing slowed as a dark thought crept into her head. She had not seen any cattle around the lake at all, not one. She went to drop her spoon, but Kane snapped his head in her direction as a warning. Lyra clasped the spoon tighter and continued eating, chewing each mouthful exceedingly slowly and defiantly staring at Kane as she did. She knew that she had no choice and hoped desperately that her assumptions were wrong.

Kane waited patiently for Lyra to finish her meal and refused to move until she had cleared the container. Harlon gently took the container from her trembling hands. If she was correct in her assumptions, then she had reached a new low, even surpassing her intimacy with a killer.
‘Good girl!’ the old man cackled. ‘Better to do what he wants, love,’ he added, resting a wizened old hand on her shoulder. Lyra had always done what she had wanted; left home, put herself through college, succeeded as an artist and, above all, avoided the expectation to involve herself in any form of a relationship. She mentally nudged herself and the words crossed her mind again; do whatever it takes to survive. Kane tilted his head as if reading her thoughts, and Lyra consciously wiped them from her mind.

‘Harlon’s gonna go now, missy. Now, do you need anything from town?’ he asked. Without thinking, Lyra blurted out,
‘Does everyone know what you do for him?’ Harlon exchanged glances with Kane once again.
‘People knows not to come up here. That’s what they know!’ Harlon exclaimed hurriedly. ‘Now, do you want anything from town?’
‘Beef!’ Lyra snapped, ashamed at herself for what she had consumed. Kane took two thumping steps towards her.
‘Now, boy, you don’t need to be like that. She just upset, is all,’ whined the old man.
‘Beef and a bath!’ Lyra repeated, hoping to gain some insight as to how far she could assert herself.
Kane turned to the old man and signalled with one swoop of his hand for him to leave. Harlon rushed out without saying anything further.

‘Beef and a bath!’ the woman cried out again. Kane tilted his head. If she wanted a bath so badly, he would give her one. He bent down and grasped both of her hands in one of his and, with the other, threw her body over his shoulder. Between a fury of passionate emotions, frustration at her imprisonment and shame over what she had eaten, Lyra sank into a fit of angry emotions. She kicked and flailed against the creature as he marched out of the cabin and into the forest.

Kane tightened his arm around her legs to slow the stream of kicks, but she continued to lash out with her arms. Each hit against his back bounced off as if it were nothing to him. He marched headlong towards the lake, furious at her newfound intransigence. Lyra hoped that he would take her to her cabin, but Kane had no intention of giving in to her tantrum. He strode to the shoreline and continued walking into the water. Realising what was about to happen, Lyra struggled harder.
‘Kane, put me down!’ she yelled whilst pummelling his back. He did not respond. ‘You’re nothing but a monster!’

Her words hurt; they stung Kane’s ears and pierced his belly. She would suffer for the pain she had caused him. He continued wading into the water. Lyra’s head skimmed the surface; Kane had drowned as a child and he could drown her in an instant. She tried to lift her head up and caught a mouthful of water as she did. ‘Kane, let me go!’ she continued, but to no avail. As Kane’s jaw hit the water, Lyra straightened her back in a bid to get some air into her lungs. Kane released his grip until she skimmed down his body and they were face to face in the water. The monster then secured his mighty arms about her waist and took her further so that the lakebed dropped away beneath them. Holding her fast, he dropped down, descending into the depths of the lake.

Lyra tried to struggle against him, but there was no use. He held her for a short time, time enough for her to fear for her life, and then rocketed upwards until they were both swimming on the surface of the lake.
‘See, monster,’ Lyra chided whilst fearfully spitting out water. ‘Nothing but a monster.’ He grasped her waist once again and dragged her to the lakebed, flailing. This time, he held her slightly longer before ascending to the surface. Lyra spluttered and coughed as she tried desperately to tread in her captor’s waters.

Top of Form

Kane 16 – Chapter Sixteen: Shift

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-16-chapter-sixteen-shift/

Lyra coughed up water, and her legs paddled furiously. She turned from Kane, who was watching her intently, and swam towards the shore. Kane watched; her struggling would never stop tantalizing his inner beast, and now he had seen her anger and it was sweet. The water splashed up behind Lyra as she darted through it, her mind still awash with confused and disgusted emotions. Once her feet touched the floor, she waded out of the lake and headed towards her cabin.

The locks were still broken from Kane’s kick and the door hung on its hinges. Lyra gave it an additional kick as she stormed in and headed directly for the bathroom. The stove was warm; Harlon must have been good enough to light it for her. She knew that the water would be tepid at best but did not care. Lyra stripped and climbed into the bath as it was still running. She scrubbed her body furiously with gel, washed her hair and cleaned herself up intensely. Within ten minutes, she was dried and dressed. Kane had left debris of clothes and towels about the place. Lyra pulled on a black summer dress, her leggings having all been torn or wet, and set about clearing up the mess.

Her furious cleaning was soon interrupted by the sound of banging from the front room. Lyra put the last of her towels away and marched to the front room to see where the noise was coming from.
‘I knew I had some spare locks out in the shed,’ Harlon muttered without turning to look at her. The old man was crouched on the floor, screwing a bolt into the wall. ‘Don’t want no one breaking in now, do we, missy?’ Lyra let out a laugh; the only person who had disturbed her home was Kane, and she was quite sure that Kane had instructed Harlon to mend the damage that he had done.

Lyra marched past Harlon and stared out into the wilderness. It appeared that Kane had not followed her; perhaps he had released her.
‘Nope, he’s about somewhere,’ Harlon responded to her thoughts.
‘Can you not do that?’ Lyra asked.
‘Do what?’ the old man asked as he finished fixing the final screw.
‘Guess my thoughts.’
‘Not guessing, missy, just knowing,’ Harlon laughed.
‘Can you just not?’ she asked again abruptly.
‘If you mean can I shut them out, well then, yes, I certainly can,’ Harlon replied. ‘But the boy don’t want that now, do he?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Lyra replied.
‘You and I both know that ain’t true,’ Harlon muttered whilst shifting his attention to the top bolt. Lyra thought about the old man’s words; she had sensed Kane’s movements, but not his thoughts, and not all of the time.
‘It will come,’ Harlon nodded. Lyra sighed but did not bother to ask him to stay out of her head, knowing that there was little point as her words would go unheeded.

Harlon fixed the top bolt with precision and speed. He gathered his tools up and prepared to leave.
‘He’s waiting for you!’ the old man exclaimed, nodding towards the studio. Lyra remembered her promise: to paint for him. She closed the door behind Harlon and walked to the studio. Kane was indeed waiting, motionless, in the corner so that he could see the array of work on the desk. His eyes fixated on the painting that he had seen the first night.
‘The duality of man,’ Lyra stated. ‘It shows that man is neither good nor evil.’ She pointed at the various hues of darkness and light. ‘You see, man is a spectrum of shades, neither one thing nor the other, but a mixture of feeling and action.’ Kane flicked his hand out, indicating that she should paint.

Lyra pulled a piece of paper from another smaller table and spilled a selection of acrylic colours into a palette that sat at the far end of the desk. She stared out of the window at the lake shimmering against the forest and started to paint.
‘Normally I would pencil the outline, but for landscapes I like to just use the flick of the brush,’ she explained to the silent monster. Time flowed as she worked, painting Kane’s beloved wilderness. Again, something in her work spoke to him; a sense of self-imposed isolation and sadness that he could understand. The afternoon drifted into evening, and the sun dropped seamlessly from the sky.

As the clock struck ten, Lyra put down her brush and hung the work up on her drying line. She washed her utensils without speaking and turned to face Kane. He stared down at his woman; she had fulfilled her promise wholeheartedly. He had sensed an ongoing conflict within her: a disgusted fear combined with an aching desire. Kane considered the possibility that her actions could be a ruse to gain his trust, allowing an easy escape, but not her painting. She was genuinely and profoundly happy and at peace whilst engrossed in her work; she was expressing her inner self, fully exposing her soul to him.

Kane reached out and cupped her chin in his gloved hand, raising it up so that she was looking in his eyes.
‘It’s for you,’ she whispered. ‘The painting, it’s for you.’ There was sincerity in her words. After a pause, Lyra continued, ‘I need to work and send my work to the auctioneers.’ Kane snapped his head to the side furiously; her words threatened to bring outsiders into his home. ‘What is it?’ Lyra asked. ‘You don’t want me to do that, is that it?’ Slowly, Kane nodded and lifted his arm to point out of the window. ‘You think people will come here? Is that it?’ she asked nervously. ‘No, Kane, no one will come, I promise. Amy arranged a postal box in town for me before I moved…’ Her words faded away. Kane was breathing heavily, his anger clearly gaining in momentum.

Lyra thought over her words; she had mentioned Amy. For a while, she had forgotten what he was and what he had done. His reaction served to confirm what she already knew: that the Penroses were dead. Lyra thought quickly and carefully; she did not want to anger him further.
‘It’s for you, Kane,’ she reiterated, placing a hand on his chest. Kane snapped his head upright and placed his hand over hers. Lyra expected him to push her away, but instead he simply clasped it tightly. ‘No one is going to come here, Kane, I promise,’ Lyra whispered. ‘Not looking for me. I came here to get away from people.’ With her other hand, she reached up and stroked his neck. Her fingers trailed upwards to his mask. Kane released his grip and brushed her hand away from his face. ‘Kane, let me see?’ she implored, hoping to distract him from the previous conversation.

Kane shook his head; she would be even more disgusted with him if she saw his true image. He cast his eyes over to the painting; she had such an eye for beauty, and he was hideous. There was no beauty to be seen, not in a deformed killer. He moved his gaze from the painting to the pretty, hazel eyes that bewitched him. A wave of guilt flitted through him; he had caused her greater suffering in two days than she had experienced in a lifetime, and yet she still made something so beautiful for him, not out of fear; her art emanated from the heart. She had not realized it, but she had smiled whilst working, and her smile radiated, lighting up the room.

Lyra sensed the improvement in her captor’s mood; doing anything to survive meant that she had to encourage his trust.
‘Take me home, Kane,’ she whispered. The monster tilted his head and lifted her carefully into his arms. Lyra wrapped her arms about his neck and buried her head into his shoulder. Kane walked out of the cabin and carried his woman through the woods back to his home. He slowed his pace so that he might enjoy her voluntary affections for as long as possible. Lyra closed her eyes and kissed his neck gently; she would gain his trust, yet she did not trust herself not to give in to the passions building up within her. ‘I want to go to bed,’ Lyra muttered as she nibbled on the monster’s neck.

The electric pulses shocked through Kane’s stomach, not animalistic and cruel, but desirous and powerful none the less. He carried her directly to his room and placed her on the edge of the bed. Lyra nodded towards the rags on the floor and closed her eyes, expecting to be blindfolded. Instead, Kane left the room and extinguished every candle and light so that the cabin was shrouded in darkness. Lyra rose to meet him when he returned and instantly placed her lips on his. Her hands unbuckled his tool belt and moved to the scabbard. Unexpectedly, Kane did not resist, allowing her to remove the sheath from his leg as his own hands explored the shape of her breasts through the dress that she wore.

Lyra pulled aggressively at the buttons on his suit, exhibiting a strength that Kane had not yet seen. Once undone, she pulled the suit from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. In response, Kane kicked his boots off and stepped out of his clothes. He lifted Lyra back onto the bed so that she lay supine. Their lips met again with a furious passion; her arms laced about his body and stroked at him. The creature tore his gloves off and ran a hand between her legs, raising her dress as he did. Lyra moaned as his rough hands stroked at her legs, rising with each stroke. She felt herself getting wet at his touch and dug her tongue deeper into his mouth; she stroked his back, neck and chest, taking in the awesome strength of his body.

His fingers worked their way higher until they reached her wetness. Lyra gasped, and the monster responded, running his fingers from her sensitivity to her aching wetness. Her breathing slowed as he rubbed into her. Kane pulled her dress up higher so that he could take in the smell of her arousal. His tongue delved into the back of her mouth and he released her sex, enabling him to rise her dress fully. In one swift moment, he lay between her legs, his hardness pressing against her, touching the most sensual area.

Lyra parted her legs further for him, and he pushed gently against her. She moaned as he pushed up against her passionately. Their tongues entwined, as did their bodies. Kane built up the pressure; she was bound to be sore after the previous night. She held tightly to him as the pain subsided and morphed into an exquisite pleasure. He pushed more firmly, and she relaxed, allowing him access. Again, he pushed against her, then he pushed into her. She arched slightly and dropped into a relaxed, amorous trance. With slow, ever-deepening strides, Kane continued his affections. Lyra’s need quickly intensified, and with each lustful moan that left her lips, Kane’s ardour built.

Lyra ran her fingers up his spine to the back of his head, which she cupped adoringly, pushing his tongue further into her desperate mouth. Kane grabbed her hips and forced himself fully inside, causing Lyra’s body to go rigid. The waves in her stomach curved and expanded; she was so close that it pained her.
‘Please, Kane,’ she whispered, having sensed how her begging aroused him. The creature pushed harder, driving his body up against her swollen sex. Lyra dug one heel into his back and moved her hips to meet his almighty thrusts.

Her moans sank into a tantalizing breathlessness. ‘I’m so close,’ she moaned, stretching and collapsing against him. Kane’s own need was desperately close to peaking. With one final thrust, she arched fully against him; her body went rigid and her fingers dug into him. The monster responded immediately, releasing himself fully into her. For a time, neither moved, both unsure as to exactly what had taken place. He had made love to her with a passion alien to him, and she had responded in kind. Finally, Kane lay next to her and pulled her close to him. Lyra had expected him to tie her again, but he did not. Instead, the creature held her close, wondering how he could have ever harmed her.

Kane 17 – Chapter Seventeen: Voyeurism

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-17-chapter-seventeen-voyeurism/

Perfect silence filled the cabin, perfect silence and unimaginable darkness. Lyra pressed herself into Kane’s chest, and he held her close as if never wanting to let her go. For a while, Lyra lay awake fighting with her thoughts; he was a killer and a sadist, but he was also lonely and damaged. He did not willingly seek victims, but instead defended his own territory against intruders. She could escape, but she had nowhere to go. Maple Lake was the home she chose, and the only one that had remotely appealed to her, and if she did leave, she would never feel the way she did when she was with him. If she stayed, he would expect complete submission; she knew that, but he would afford her a protection that no one else could offer. Harlon had suggested that he was inhuman. Lyra wondered about that until Kane squeezed her, telling her to change her direction of thought. He could clearly read her and wondered if she would ever be able to understand him.

Kane squeezed her again, touched her hand to his face and nodded. There would come a time when she would be able to understand him.
‘How so?’ Lyra asked. Kane stroked her head in response, and she melted under his touch. No, she could not leave; she could not bear to be without his touch and without his dominant mastery and protection of her. Her own sense of morality had languished at his will. ‘Kane,’ she muttered. He tilted his head in the darkness, and she sensed his movement. ‘I won’t leave you; I promise.’ The monster ran his hand down her cheek and opened his palm about her throat, giving a gentle squeeze as a warning. ‘You want me to obey you, don’t you?’ He squeezed again and lowered his arm, taking her hand in his. In one deliberate movement, he pointed her own hand to her cleavage and then turned it to point at his own face. ‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘I am yours.’ Kane smoothed her eyelids with his fingers, and she complied, drifting into a deep sleep.

A loud ringing sounded in the basement and rang through the cabin. Lyra sleepily peered through her heavy eyelids. Kane was already out of bed and preparing himself for the kill, dressing and fastening his scabbard and tool belt. Leaving Lyra untied, assuming that she was asleep, Kane stalked off down the hall and dropped into the tunnels. Lyra’s curiosity proved overwhelming. She quietly dressed and hurried after him, keeping some distance between them.

The tunnels were semi-lit, offering a dim light with which to see by. She had to move swiftly to avoid losing him in the labyrinth. Her heart pounded as Lyra knew where Kane was going: to mercilessly destroy the trespassers. She knew what he was but needed to see what he was capable of for herself. Kane veered off into a side tunnel and opened up a hidden trapdoor. Lyra watched as he climbed through, waited momentarily and then followed him.

Lyra emerged at a clearing beside the river. The moon was full, casting a sheen of light across the water, and the night seemed eerily still and calm. Kane had vanished. Lyra looked about her but could neither see nor hear him. She closed her eyes and whispered his name under her breath. Instantly, she felt his breath on her neck. Lyra turned quickly, but there was no one there.

Over the sand dunes, a flicker of light caught her eye and she climbed into the grass like a hunter seeking its prey. Three teenagers had set up a makeshift camp on the beach; a few sleeping bags, a fire and a couple of small tents lay strewn about. The teens sat in a small circle around the fire, swigging beer. She could hear their laughing and one talking, telling stories. Lyra edged closer and pulled herself through the grass to listen.

‘He was transferred from the sanatorium in Illinois to The Hodder Institute right here outside of Forest Green. During the transfer, the bus overturned, and everyone aboard was slaughtered. Only his body and the body of his psychiatrist failed to be recovered,’ a hairy, dishevelled, stoned lad mumbled.
‘Is that true, Jody?’ an ebony-haired girl asked.
‘It was in the news earlier this year!’ The other lad, a sturdy black man dressed in shorts, put his arm around the woman.
‘Of course, it’s true! Everyone around here’s nuts, Jamie!’ he replied sarcastically, pulling her in for a kiss.

Jamie pulled away and smirked.
‘I have a better story, Billy!’ she exclaimed, pouting at her man.
‘You have?’ he muttered whilst leaning in for another kiss. ‘Well, it’s got to be better than Jody’s crock.’
‘It’s not a crock, it’s true,’ Jody interjected. ‘Heather told me.’ Billy laughed.
‘Heather told you, so it must be true.’
‘Are you guys gonna listen to me or not?’ Jamie tutted.
‘We’re listening,’ Billy answered as she pulled away from him and eased herself towards the glow of the fire for effect.

‘Two years ago, a group of campers came here for spring break, just like we are today,’ Jamie began.
‘Here? Spring break?’ Jody mumbled. ‘Sounds like bull to me!’
‘They came for spring break; they were staying in a log house at the far corner of the lake. The day after they arrived, the sheriff picked up a girl wandering the roads alone, covered in blood. She said that some man-monster had slaughtered every one of her friends, that she had escaped after seeing his face.’ Lyra moved further forward; she wanted to know the real Kane. ‘He was horribly disfigured, inhuman.’

‘That’s the Kane story,’ Billy smiled. ‘Everyone’s heard that, the boy who drowned and saw his mother die, now he haunts the woods.’
‘Yes?’ Jamie snapped with annoyance.
‘It’s an urban legend! All towns have them.’
‘NO bodies were found,’ Jamie insisted.
‘Probably because there weren’t any and she was just nuts.’ He grabbed her patronisingly and kissed her lips. ‘Nuts like you.’ Jody lay his head on his hands and gazed into the night sky, half-dazed. Jamie pulled away from Billy.
‘It is true, you know?’ Billy kissed her again.
‘I’m sure it is!’ Jamie huffed irately.
‘Believe me, don’t believe me, I have to go for a piss!’ she barked, jumping to her feet. ‘And you two can believe what you like!’

Lyra watched as Jamie disappeared into the forest, then eased herself to her feet and followed the girl, using the silhouette of the trees as a shield. As soft as her trainers were, she still found that she could not move with the silence and stealth of Kane. Her feet crunched on the occasional twig, snapping it louder than anticipated. She heard Billy’s vigilant response instantly.
‘Did you hear that?’ Jody sighed.
‘It’s just Jamie.’ Lyra inhaled with relief and continued moving.

Jamie squatted behind a bush quite far from the perimeter of the trees. Her shorts were pulled down around her knees as she squatted. Lyra scanned the woods for Kane, but there was no sign of him. She waited for Jamie to pull her shorts up, still nothing. Jamie took a few steps towards the camp and the monster dropped from the trees in front of her. He was a formidable creature in the night, landing perfectly as if dropping from the sky. The girl instantly backed away with shock.

‘What do you want?’ she whined, still pacing backwards. Kane did not answer; instead, he drew the machete with a swift clink. Jamie’s eyes widened in the streams of moonlight and her lip quivered. Kane advanced, and the girl stumbled back, falling over her own feet. She tried to raise herself on her hands, but as she did, a heavy boot dropped next to her head. She let out a yell. Lyra could hear the boys at the camp responding with some commotion and panic. Kane’s giant, gloved hand grabbed Jamie’s hair and dragged her weightlessly to her feet. She tried to run, but to no avail. The machete was sheathed, and a screwdriver whisked from the tool belt. The boys sounded like they were coming to search for their companion; Lyra could hear their voices and footsteps getting closer.

Kane held the point of the screwdriver underneath the girl’s chin.
‘Do you want money?’ she reasoned pointlessly. ‘I have money.’ Slowly, the screwdriver was driven into her skin; an awful, piercing scream rang through the forest. Lyra covered her ears and clenched her eyes shut. She had never seen anyone die before, not even sick people. She had never been close enough to anyone to be in a position to see it for herself. This was not a natural death, however; this was so much more. This was a torturous robbery of life, and even Lyra’s hands could not stifle the sound of blood-soaked gurgling and choking as the girl slumped to the floor.

Abruptly, Kane threw the body over his shoulder and disappeared into the forest. Lyra opened her eyes.
‘Jamie!’ Billy’s voice sounded close by. ‘Jamie, where you gone, girl?’ Lyra slunk to the ground and climbed under a thicket. Billy was faster than Jody, and when Jody caught up, he instantly instructed him,
‘Go back to the camp in case she comes back.’ Jody trudged off back towards the beach, and Billy marched deeper into the woods.

Lyra shook, horrified by the vision of Jamie’s death; this was Kane unmasked, a merciless predator. Yet, the passion for him had not left Lyra. As Billy’s footsteps faded into the distance, Lyra clambered to her feet and ran back towards the camp; she could at least try to save one person.

Kane dropped the body through a trapdoor. His heightened senses enabled him to hear Billy closing in on him. Swiftly, he dropped himself into the tunnels and vanished from sight.
‘Jamie!’ Billy called impatiently. ‘Jamie, where are you, girl?’ In the distance, he heard movement, like someone running. He changed direction and headed for the sound.

‘Jody,’ Lyra whispered, shaking the sleeping lad. ‘Jody, wake up.’ She shook him harder, and the boy’s heavy eyes opened.
‘Who are you?’ he asked carelessly.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Lyra hurried. ‘Listen to me carefully. You need to leave. Right now!’ Jody pulled himself up on his palms.
‘Is this a joke?’ he asked. ‘Has Billy set this up?’
‘No, you need to go.’ Lyra looked around. ‘How did you get here?’
‘We parked the camper up by a cabin by the trail,’ Jody slurred.
‘That’s my house. Come on,’ she continued, trying to pull him up. ‘Trust me, you need to get out of here.’
‘Where’s Jamie and Billy?’ the stoner asked coolly.

Lyra huffed.
‘Dead, they’re both dead. Now move.’ With one heave, she pulled the lad to his feet. ‘Follow me.’
‘Dead? What the hell is going on?’ Jody snapped, sobering up quickly. Lyra did not know how to answer, so simply whispered,
‘There’s a madman killing people,’ almost immediately feeling guilty for having betrayed Kane. Some dormant instinct kicked in and Jody gripped Lyra’s hand so that she could lead him through the dark wilderness.

Through the trees, Billy could see a strange girl leading Jody away from the camp.
‘Jody!’ he shouted through the trees. ‘Jody, wait.’ Jody stopped moving.
‘You said they were dead!’ he snapped at Lyra, confused.
‘I thought he was. You need to leave, like I said.’ Jody released her.
‘I don’t leave without my friends.’ Lyra scanned the trees; if Kane caught her betraying him, he would kill her. Jody dug his heels into the sand. ‘Not without my friends,’ he insisted.

Billy raced through the trees, his mighty feet crunching against the forest floor.
‘Jody, wait!’ he shouted. Lyra looked towards the sound of the voice. Billy ran out of the tree line and awkwardly slipped down the sand dunes to the beach. Jody mooched back towards his friend, and Lyra followed, hoping to get them both out alive.
‘Where’s Jamie?’ Billy snapped at Lyra as soon as he was close enough. ‘Where is she?’ he screamed again, hurtling towards Lyra.

Kane 18 – Chapter Eighteen: Torture

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-18-chapter-eighteen-torture/

Lyra stepped back as Billy careered towards her. He was confused and angry, but she hoped she would be able to reason with him.
‘Please, listen!’ she called desperately. ‘I’m here to help!’
‘Where is she?’ he shouted, tumbling towards the woman and knocking her to the ground. The force of the impact winded Lyra, and she had to catch her breath.
‘You’re in danger,’ she panted. ‘I came to help.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Billy shouted, looming over her. ‘Where’s my girl?’ Lyra gulped.
‘She’s dead!’ Billy jumped towards her again.
‘You’re lying!’
‘I’m telling you she’s dead!’ Lyra wheezed, trying to gain her breath. ‘You have to leave, Billy!’

‘How the…’ Billy began, puzzled by her response. ‘How do you know my name?’ he demanded.
‘Because I’ve been watching you,’ she stammered, rising to her feet. ‘I was watching you; Jamie is dead, and you need to leave!’
‘She told me you were dead,’ Jody added.
‘Well, she telling lies!’ Billy snapped, grabbing hold of Lyra by the arms. ‘You tell me where she is, you lie again, and you and I have a problem!’
‘I thought you were dead,’ Lyra muttered.
‘Why would you think that?’
‘I watched him kill your friend!’ Billy released his grip slightly, staring her in the eyes.
‘Who? Watched who?’ Lyra could feel the temper building within him. The sound of a branch snapping echoed through the forest. Lyra tried to see into the shadowy shroud of the trees and returned her stare to Billy.
‘You need to leave now.’

Billy had heard the sound too; they were not alone. The anger in his face gave way to fear.
‘She dead, you say?’ he confirmed. Lyra nodded.
‘You need to go now.’ Billy looked her up and down.
‘Lady, I don’t even know who you are. Just get us out of here.’ Lyra nodded and signalled for the lads to follow her up the beach to the trail. The moon provided enough light for the lads to follow her silhouette.

‘Stick to the path and move quickly,’ she instructed, coaxing Jody along. Another branch cracked; this one was much closer. Lyra knew that Kane was capable of moving silently, so he wanted them to hear. He knew that she had betrayed him. Lyra increased her pace, and her new acquaintances followed her lead. The shadow of a camper emerged from the darkness.
‘You haven’t got much time,’ Lyra whispered. ‘Follow the trail beside my cabin, and you will find the main road.’

Billy threw open the camper door, illuminating the interior light. The glow flushed around the exterior.
‘The tyres!’ Billy moaned. ‘The tyres have been slashed.’
Suddenly, a light flicked on from Lyra’s cabin. Lyra froze as Jody and Billy turned to see who was there.

‘Old Harlon said to himself, this camper ain’t good for much but parts,’ the old man cackled from Lyra’s doorway. ‘Nothing good coming from that now, is there?’ Anger riled up in Billy.
‘You got my woman?’ he snapped, striding towards the old man. ‘You, sick old bastard, where is she?’ Harlon leaned against the door frame.
‘Now, what do I want with that old Jezebel?’ Billy ran at him, but the old man dodged the impact slyly, allowing the lad to tumble into the front room.

Harlon diverted his attention to the woman. ‘See, missy, sometimes we go looking for things we don’t want to see.’ Lyra swallowed and turned slowly to look at the old man. ‘He been watching you all night. I told you, didn’t I? Old Harlon told you how to behave.’ Billy jumped to his feet.
‘You know this man? You know, and you watched my girl die?’ Barging past Harlon, he rushed towards Lyra and pounded his fist into her face before she had time to raise her hands in defence.

The impact of the punch knocked Lyra backwards; her body hit the camper and slunk to the ground. Her face throbbed and stung. A metallic taste filled Lyra’s mouth as blood poured from her lip and nose. She wanted to speak, but the pain was too much. Lyra doubted she could adequately explain herself regardless of her injury.
‘Don’t you worry, boy!’ the old man continued. ‘She gonna get a lot worse than that.’ Billy spun around furiously.
‘From you? What you gonna do?’ he shouted. ‘You might be a good dodge, but you as weak as shit!’

Billy stormed towards the old man and opened his mouth to speak again. From the roof of the cabin, a lance flew down and impaled the boy’s mouth and drove through his spine and into the ground. Lyra watched, mortified, as the lad rocked against the spike until finally flopping against it. Nausea rose in her throat.
‘What you wanted, ain’t it, missy?’ Harlon laughed. ‘You wanted to see, well, now you have.’

Jody watched as blood oozed from his friend’s back and mouth; Billy’s eyes had rolled horribly into his head.
‘No, no, no,’ Lyra heard Jody muttering as he backed off and ran towards the trail. Before he reached the path, an awful cracking smacked through the night air and Jody fell screaming. Lyra forced herself to stand and go to him. She could not bear to hear the suffering in his wails. Staggering, dazed, towards the boy, she noticed the vast clamp, the bear trap, snapped shut over his shin. Lyra stopped dead in her tracks, her hands clasped over her shaking mouth.

Harlon switched off the camper lights and mooched towards her.
‘You sure you want to stay, missy?’ he asked, reaching towards her. Lyra brushed the old man away and ran towards the still-crying victim. Jody was bent over, holding his leg helplessly.
‘I can try and get it off,’ Lyra sobbed. She dropped to her knees next to him and, with shaking hands, attempted to prise the teeth apart, mustering all the strength left in her body. Her shaking hands pulled and widened the teeth a few inches, but in an instant, the trap snapped shut. Jody cried out again, and Lyra put her arms around him. ‘I don’t know how to help you,’ she wept before turning to Harlon angrily. ‘Do something!’ she snapped, even though she knew that he would not. ‘How do you live with yourself?’
Harlon smiled.
‘I told you I don’t,’ he said, taking his flask from his pocket and sipping at the drink.

Lyra tried fruitlessly to remove the trap a second time. Her hands ached against the metal, and again, the trap snapped shut. Frustrated, the woman clasped her hair with both hands and let out a scream.
‘I don’t know how to help you,’ she cried. ‘I don’t know how to help you.’ Behind her, the sound of an almighty clump hit the deck of the cabin. Lyra sniffed and swivelled around to see Kane standing in the light of the cabin. His huge form heaved with rage.

Kane strode to Billy’s corpse and ripped the spear from him as if it were paper. The boy’s body fell, lifeless, to the sand. Lyra grabbed Jody’s arm and attempted to drag him to the trail, but it was futile as he struggled against the pain in his leg. Kane stood motionless again, simply staring.
‘Well, missy, this is better than TV,’ Harlon called smugly.
Lyra ignored him.
‘Jody, please try and help me,’ she encouraged as her tears dried into an angered fear. The boy did not respond, but instead clasped his leg tighter. Lyra glared up at Kane’s menacing form.

His woman had betrayed him; he had watched her, felt her and sensed her every movement. He had slowed his pace in the tunnels, so that she could keep up, had watched her hiding in the grass of the dunes and allowed her to watch him take Jamie. She had betrayed him, tried to free the trespassers, and this could not be taken lightly, not if he were to protect his wilderness.

Kane had gained immense satisfaction as she cowered and sobbed as his spear ended Billy’s life, a well-deserved fate after the lout had hit his woman, his property. Yet, she continued to try to help his friend in spite of the threat that Kane posed. She was stronger than he had initially anticipated; even though she was unable to remove the bear trap, her efforts had been commendable. In spite of her strength, a fury burned through him as the thought of her betrayal gnawed at his heart.

‘Please, Jody,’ Lyra tried again. ‘Please help me.’ She looped his left arm about her neck and wedged her elbow beneath his shoulder to lift him. After a struggle, Lyra managed to raise Jody on one leg and, taking his weight, she attempted to flee. ‘I will go with you,’ she whispered in a desperate bid to encourage the heavily bleeding lad.

I will go with you. The words cut through Kane like a knife. His Lyra would never go with another man, and she would never leave alive. Kane tilted his head as Lyra dragged the limping boy onto the trail. Harlon nodded towards the wood that stood in logs by the side of the cabin, wood that he had been cutting. There, buried in the logs, was an axe. Kane ran towards the axe, pulled it and turned rapidly towards the escaping couple and sent the axe spinning through the air.

The bit buried itself in Jody’s spine, and he fell against the impact, taking Lyra with him. Kane strode to the couple as the boy writhed in pain. In defence, Lyra straddled the boy to impede Kane’s path. The monster grabbed her shoulders and, for a brief instant, she caught his eye; her lip trembled as her body cruelly remembered his touch and, in spite of herself, her resistance dropped. In one movement, her body was cast aside, and the monster withdrew the axe from Jody as his agonized cries filled the night air. Kane dropped the axe to his side and withdrew the machete.

Jody’s screams turned into pleas for help; Lyra could not bear his suffering. She was still dazed from Billy’s attack; her nose and mouth stung, and a dizziness consumed her. The screams were so pitiful. Lyra staggered to her feet and ran towards the beast, grabbing him about the neck. She tightened her grip about his throat and locked her wrists in a bid to choke him. Kane did not respond at first; instead, he sliced the blade into his victim’s back, cutting the skin down the centre. Seeing the blood forming, Lyra let out an anguished scream and wrenched the creature’s neck as if she intended to kill him.

Kane lifted the machete and turned towards the woman, twisting his neck out of her grasp with ease. Lyra froze as he held her stare, then with one sweep of his arm, he knocked her tiny body away from him. Lyra hit the ground hard; her head and face throbbed painfully, but she forced herself to fight the urge to black out. Kane placed two firm hands on the two halves of skin hanging from his victim’s back and forced them sadistically apart. Lyra could hear someone screaming; the screaming grew more hysterical until she realized that it was coming from her mouth.

‘Now, come on, missy.’ A hand fell on her shoulder. ‘It’s over now, so you don’t have to worry none.’ Lyra tilted her chin upwards to see Harlon kneeling over her. Kane sheathed his machete and removed the axe from Lyra’s proximity, returning it to the wood store. He then grabbed one of Billy’s legs and dragged him towards the trail, clasping Jody’s head on the way through, before heading to Harlon’s cabin to dispose of the meat.

‘I guess Old Harlon got himself a new camper,’ the old man whispered as Kane disappeared up the trail. The screaming had subsided into occasional sobs. Lyra touched her face, unable to locate the actual source of the pain due to the immense throbbing. Harlon smiled again. ‘Don’t you worry none, missy, he hasn’t finished with you yet.’

Kane 19 – Chapter Nineteen: Immorality

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-19-chapter-nineteen-immorality/

Lyra’s head pounded as she tried to focus her eyes in the moonlight. There was a coldness eating away at her skin; a chill, perhaps due to shock, or pain, or both. Her vision blurred and the world seemed to slow around her. She heard Kane’s footsteps as he returned and heard the old man talking to him but could not quite make the words out. At some point the old man left and she lay abandoned in the dirt. She could hear her mind crying out at her to move, but her body would not conform. Her head spun; she was in New York, masked figures moved about her as she exhibited her work; a statement on the duality of man. The masked figures could not see her; she tried to shout above the noise, but instead disappeared into nothing.

Lights and chugging disturbed her reverie. An old truck juddered past her broken body. Chains moved and rattled, hydraulics, more chains. Lyra squinted as a tow truck dragged the camper up the trail. The lights of the cabin went off. Only the moon offered any hope of light. The woman squeezed her eyes together in a bid to improve her focus. She was weak; she wondered how much blood she had lost. The old man’s words hummed through her being; he hasn’t finished with you yet. Images flitted through her mind; the machete, the axe, being dragged under the water, his body against hers. She blinked, disgusted with herself. How could she still think of him like that now?

She had betrayed him, not just surreptitiously, but blatantly in his presence. She had tried to fight him. She choked as an insane laugh crept up her throat; she had tried to fight him, knowing that he was inhuman. Perhaps there was some humanity left in her. Yet, there was that dark side, the side of her that had necessitated years of self-imposed isolation. The darkness that filled the canvas hiding behind art and locked in her mind. It was something that she had been born with, a strange fascination with pain that had led to her mother enlisting a psychiatrist, and her subsequent decision to move away, and work alone.

Harlon was right; she had wanted to know and to see what Kane truly was, but nothing could have prepared her for the horrors that she had seen. Lyra listened; there was no movement in the darkness, but she knew that he was there somewhere, watching. In her dazed stupor her senses had somehow heightened; she could feel him breathing. Lyra forced herself to sit up; as she did, she coughed up blood. Her face stung; desperately she dragged herself to the lake and splashed the water over her head to cool her skin.

Images of the screwdriver boring into Jamie’s skin clouded the waters; she splashed again. In the murk she saw the skin pulled off of Jody’s back, and the spear impaling Billy. Lyra thought of Billy, and how he had punched her so aggressively. Her mind wandered; Kane had stopped Billy from hurting her. She soaked her face again and rubbed gently to remove some of the dried blood; Kane had not finished with her yet. A sense of tantalizing dread spread through her in a bizarre, yet terrifying manner.

The water had cooled Lyra’s skin, but her body ached with a chill, and shivered. In the darkness strange thoughts continued to plague her; she was sitting alone at college again, the odd girl that no one spoke to. She was in New York, her agent mapping out every choice that she made, whilst she sat alone in the evenings watching the city come to life. She was driving from place to place finding her perfect escape. Her body tensed against his touch, then there was blood.

Lyra’s sore eyes opened; she was still on the beach, close to the shore. The water covered her legs, and she was cold. The blackness came again; Kane had his arms wrapped around her, she was safe and warm. She could hear his breathing. Her body spun in the darkness and fell into nothing. His breathing was all around her; it was so comfortable lying next to his body, sinking into the blackness. Lyra coughed as she inhaled grains of sand; her body trembled in the night air. The breathing grew louder, until two arms lifted her powerfully from the cold beach. Lyra raised her head slightly; it was a perfect vision; the monster had come for her and she was at his mercy. Finally, the woman gave way to her fatigue, the images faded, and all went black as the creature carried her into the night.

His woman had put up an admirable struggle, but she would not have survived the night in the cold. Her head hung over his arm as he carried her. Kane sensed that her injuries were greater than they appeared. She had lost a lot of blood and was weakening quickly. He increased his pace in response to his instincts and hurried back to his cabin. Kane lay her fragile body on the sofa, covered her with her blanket and waited.

‘You called, boy?’ Harlon shouted as he ventured into Kane’s cabin. Kane had been waiting at the door, still. He turned his head and tilted it to the unconscious woman on the sofa. ‘She’s not in great shape, is she?’ Harlon noted, crouching on the floor next to Lyra. He ran his hands along her neck and face, pressing every so often, and then put his ear to her throat. ‘Think she got a bleed there!’ the old man stated after his examination. Kane nodded in agreement and again tilted his head as if mentally speaking to the old man.

At length Harlon rose to his feet. ‘She might be alright on her own.’ Kane snapped his head towards his woman; might was not an option. ‘You know what you can do, boy, you don’t need me to tell you,’ Harlon replied to an unspoken question. ‘But if you don’t want her to know then I guess you got to be sly, ain’t ya?’ Harlon scurried past Kane to the kitchen area and found a mug. He poured a drop of his own whiskey into the vessel and took it to the monster. ‘Go on then, boy, no time like the present,’ he whispered.

Kane unsheathed his machete and stared momentarily at his reflection; even if he saved her, he doubted that she would ever want him again. He snapped his head towards her in an unexpected rage and raised the blade over her head before dropping it to his own arm. The metal sliced into him, and he allowed the blood to flow into the mug.

‘Come on, Missy,’ the darkness edged away as Harlon shook Lyra. ‘Come on, Missy, drink this now.’ Lyra woke,
and immediately started coughing, and panicking.
‘What are you doing to me?’ she cried hoarsely, ‘What now?’ Harlon put his arm around her,
‘Now you just sit up and have a drink of Harlon’s special tonic.’
‘Poison?’ Lyra spluttered, looking up at Kane’s monstrous form standing over her.
‘If this was poison, Old Harlon would be dead long ago, now wouldn’t he?’ Lyra looked up at Kane nervously, ‘Help ya stop your coughing,’ Harlon continued reassuringly.

Lyra found it unlikely, given all that she had seen, that Kane would poison her. If he wanted to finish her, he would find a much more imaginative method. Lyra relaxed and allowed Harlon to put the mug to her lips. The first mouthful caused her to cough with the bitterness; Harlon eased the drink back to her mouth and Lyra finished it in one mouthful. The flavour caused her to grimace, but she swallowed none the less.

Pounding stormed and pulsated through her instantly.
‘What have you done to me?’ Lyra cried out. The pounding grew louder and louder until it deafened and blinded her. Her body arched and dropped, the pulses grew and shook her. Her body seized violently against the pulses; spasms rocked through every muscle. Harlon stepped back, allowing Kane to kneel next to her and hold her body against his. As she fought against the fits Lyra cried out,
‘Please God, help me!’ Then, her body stiffened and relaxed. The pounding subsided and her throat cleared, allowing Lyra to gasp at the air.

Kane did not let go. He turned to the old man and nodded. Harlon responded on cue,
‘Old Harlon’s going leaving you now, Missy, but Kane will take care of ya!’ Lyra did not move her head from Kane’s body. As the pulses left her, she reached out and clung to the creature, hoping that he would be merciful in his retribution. Harlon looked at her clinging desperately to Kane and left without saying another word; the boy clearly had an obsession with her.

Lyra’s face no longer hurt; there was no throbbing or aching, and the metallic taste had faded. Her whole body was engulfed with a strange fatigue; it was like nothing she had ever experienced. She was so tired that she had no further care about Kane’s intentions. He could do as he wanted with her; she just needed to rest, and her body craved it. As if understanding her thoughts Kane lifted Lyra, with the blanket still covering her, to his bed. In contrast to the monster that she had seen rearing its head against the trespassers, the man lay her down with care.

Lyra stilled as he removed her clothes; equally, she heard him drop his tool belt and scabbard, as he removed his own clothes. One hand was lifted, and the cool metal of a cuff clinked shut around it, securing her to the bed. She did not fight; instead she allowed him to pull her into his murderous body. She burrowed herself into his chest; hoping that he would show her pity. In response to her thoughts Kane wrapped his arm around her. She would be punished, but not yet, not until she was able to withstand his chastisement.

She was so demure in her suffering and weakness that Kane relished the thought of chastising her. In her stupor Lyra noticed his growing rigidity. In her entranced state her body’s needs overpowered the fading horrors of her mind. Her hands stroked at his chest as she remembered the power of his touch. Her hand lowered until she took him between her fingers and thumb. In the darkness, Kane lifted off his mask and lay a trail of kisses across her head and down to her mouth. In her stupor, she responded in kind, taking his tongue in between her lips.

Kane could not resist; she was so delicious in her confusion, so ripe for the taking. She was floating as his blood secretly surged through her veins. The creature dropped his fingers to her sensitive spot and stroked her lightly. Lyra lay on her back and opened her legs in response, willing him to take her. Kane slid up between her thighs until their mouths met again. He held her tightly in his arms; he would never have forgiven himself if she had escaped. He wanted to possess her fully, and in her weakened state she needed to feel his forgiveness and protection.

As their tongues intertwined, Kane pushed into his woman, gently at first. She held onto him; her body ached for him, in spite of what he was. It was a lust that knew no bounds and Lyra needed to feed it. Kane drove into her, rising only to brush against her sensitive spot. Electricity pulsed through Lyra’s belly with each stride.

She moved against the cuff, and her struggle excited Kane further, driving him to push deeper inside of her. He thought of her exquisite suffering, and her valiant attempts to thwart him. She would be punished for it.
‘I will be punished for it,’ Lyra whispered in her daze, echoing his thoughts. Kane’s strides increased with vigour, his need growing urgently. She deserves it, she betrayed me. ‘I deserve it,’ Lyra moaned as she arched her back, rising her hips to meet his thrusts. In her impassioned state she moaned again, ‘Please be merciful, Kane,’ her pleas threw him over the edge and as he released into her, she tensed and the waves shook through her with greater vigour than ever before.

Kane 20 – Chapter Twenty: Immortalis

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-20-chapter-twenty-immortalis/

You know what you can do, boy, Harlon’s wise words flitted through Kane’s mind as he looked down in the shadows of the darkness at Lyra. He had given her enough blood to survive, but to give her a chance against the beast within him he could do so much more. Lyra was still weak, and in the throes of his blood-induced trance. She would be more pliable in such a state, more agreeable. Kane knew others had completed the ritual successfully, but it was not something that he had been comfortable with. Until he met Lyra, he had avoided all forms of intimacy for fear of the hurt of rejection.

Offering the rite would afford her certain skills and defences that would protect her from his sadistic needs and allow him to indulge in them fully. Lyra breathed deeply, trapped in her swoon. Kane reached for his toolbelt, removed the keys and unlocked her cuff. Her wrist dropped lifelessly down next to her spent body. She would have to willingly sacrifice herself to him. Kane climbed out of bed and dressed, strapping his scabbard to his leg.

‘What is it, Kane?’ Lyra asked, a little confused, having heard no bells.
It’s time, the words pounded in her head. ‘Time for what?’ she questioned innocently. Dress, the command was simple but clear. Lyra rubbed her eyes and forced herself out of bed. She threw on her dress and trainers, still shaking with fatigue. ‘Time for what, Kane?’ Lyra asked again nervously. The monster stood motionless, giving no response to her question. Instead he waved his hand to the front room. Lyra followed his command and wandered along the hall, still disorientated. Kane flicked the lights on behind her.

You betrayed me, the voice in her head was clear and angry. Lyra shook her head,
‘No, I just tried to help those people, that’s all.’ Betrayed me, Kane communicated again. He reached out and gripped her arm, dragging her to the sofa. Lyra winced as the pressure of his grip dug into her skin. Turn around, he commanded emotionlessly. Lyra slowly turned to face the sofa. She heard the clink of the machete being removed from the scabbard. He drew the blade across her back and crossed her throat with it. Betrayed me, the voice came again.

Kane held the blade to her throat for some time before withdrawing it and dropping it to the floor next to him. Lyra could hear him fiddling and turned her head to try to see what the monster was doing. His hands grasped her head roughly and twisted it back. Lyra waited. Kane unbuckled the scabbard; a fine leather sheath, and held it. His hands grasped the skirt of her dress and crudely wrenched it up to her shoulders. There was a momentary stillness; Lyra shuddered in anticipation of what was to come.

The first strike bit into her back with a profuse power. She cried out and fell forward against its impact, slumping over the back of the sofa. Her fingers dug into the material in an attempt to quell the stinging sensation in her back. The second strike lashed against her thighs with such exertion that welt marks swelled and burned immediately. Lyra bit into the sofa; her hands squeezed harder. The third strike fell painfully across her backside, but she did not cry out. Her body flustered, and her jaw tremored with anticipation.

Another blow lashed across her bare back; Lyra’s eyes closed heavily as she breathed in the agonizing ecstasy of the strap. A warm glow radiated through Lyra’s body, and she moaned as the leather slapped against her thighs and behind. Kane reattached the scabbard and returned his weapon to its sheath. Lyra barely had time to regain any composure before Kane’s hands were back on her wrists. The monster pulled her to her feet aggressively and pushed her towards the door.

You betrayed me, his message was louder than before, and angrier. Lyra stared at Kane’s motionless form, unsure as to what he intended to do, or what she should do.
‘Kane, I didn’t betray you,’ she began again. Kane reached for the hilt of his machete and raised it from the sheath slightly. Lyra backed towards the door, confused by the creature’s dark change in mood. She had seen his cruelty first-hand, and felt it, but there was still a connection and tension between them that she could not ignore.

Kane pulled the hilt further from the scabbard and kept his head still, focused on his woman. She would have to sacrifice herself willingly and he could think of no other way than to drive her into a fearful corner with no alternative escape.
‘What do you want, Kane?’ Lyra pleaded, with panic rising in her throat. To watch you die, Lyra’s eyes widened as he took a deliberate stride forward, releasing the machete. Lyra reached for the door behind her and turned the handle. Kane took another step forward and raised the weapon above his head. The shaking, worn woman flung open the door and ran as fast as she could into the shroud of the forest.

Under the canopy of the trees Lyra found her sight adjusting with great clarity. The wind seemed louder, even the scurry of tiny creatures thumped in her ears, but her body was tired. She veered away from the bank towards her own cabin; at least there she would have light and knives from her studio to defend herself. Instead of going from tree to tree as before Lyra ran as fast as possible in the direction of her home, willing herself not to stop.

Lyra stopped dead; her ears picked up the tread of footsteps. She sensed him, the feeling of him, coming in her direction from her cabin. Lyra turned on her heel and veered towards the lake. She would draw him into the open where she could see him. She could see the shoreline glowing in the moonlight beyond the trees and increased her pace. Kane’s footsteps ceased. Lyra felt the shift in his movement, stopped and turned. He was gone. She tried to listen for him but could hear nothing but the breeze flowing through the forest. Her eyes focused in the darkness; there was no movement.

Heavy breathing drifted up from the beach and surrounded her. Lyra changed direction again and headed back towards Kane’s cabin. She was tiring. The fatigue engulfed her, but she fought on, striding through the trees. The breathing stopped. He was driving her; she could not understand how he was everywhere, but was certain that he was driving her to where she would be most vulnerable. The adrenaline from the chase was subsiding, and the marks on her back were throbbing. Lyra leaned into a tree, her legs aching from exertion; she listened; his footsteps were closing in from all directions.

She was hurting now; Kane could feel her pain, but she was not quite ready to sacrifice herself. Why do you think I let you live? The words hung in the air between them,
‘I don’t know,’ Lyra shouted into the woods. To watch you suffer, his words stung with greater intensity than his scabbard. Lyra pushed the palm of her hand into her back to ease the throbbing and bent forward with a painful stitch. Less than an hour ago he had been inside of her, passionately loving her. You were useful to me, he was inside of her head listening to her thoughts. He had wanted to watch her work, held her, tended to her; Lyra could not block out the feeling of his exquisite touch. She had wanted it, still wanted it.

I only want to see you die, his thoughts cut deeper. Kane could hear the pounding of her turmoil and feel her will to live ebbing away. Lyra had no one, never had and never would. Every choice she had made drove her into the arms of a monster because that was all she was worth. No one ever made any effort to get to know her. She had left her family behind and looked death in the face, unable to save Kane’s victims. She was nothing, had nothing; an unbearable sadness ate at her, causing the fatigue to swell. She straightened, leaning her back into the tree.
‘Do it!’ Lyra shouted sadly into the trees. ‘Just get it over with.’

Years of loneliness filled her eyes; Kane had given her a glimpse of compassion, and the pain of losing that emptied her. The tears fell, but no sobs came. She had passed that point, resigned to her fate. Ahead of her a mist swirled as Kane appeared. His breathing filled her ears again; heavy, wrathful breathing. The machete was drawn, ready, and he stared blankly through the mask. Lyra rubbed her eyes and sucked in her tears, forcing herself to stand up straight.
‘I’m not going to run, Kane, I’m not going to scream; you will get nothing from me!’ she shouted courageously. ‘You want to take me, then go ahead.’

Kane raised the machete above his head and ran stealthily towards the woman. She did not blink, did not avert her eyes or try to flinch. Instead she raised her chin, exposing her throat to the blade. Do you give yourself to me willingly? The monster’s words hit her with a phenomenal power as he ran menacingly towards her. ‘Yes!’ Lyra shouted, holding eye contact as she tilted her head back further. The blade flew towards her and pierced her neck before burrowing itself into the bark of the tree.

Kane withdrew the blade; the skin of her neck opened as he sheathed the weapon. The monster grabbed his woman’s head and forced it into his chest, exposing the cut. Satisfied that her eyes were covered, he removed his mask, grasped her hair, ripping it to the side, opening her neck fully to him. With one powerful swoop he drove his teeth into the wound; Lyra gasped a cry as he sucked her life force from her. Her fingers dug into the folds of his suit as he drank from her. The initial pain subsided and fed into a pleasurable ecstasy.

The creature dropped his hands to Lyra’s behind and lifted her, feeding harder than before. Lyra dizzied under his mouth, yet she could not fight the growing pleasure inside her. Gently, Kane released his hold of her and replaced his mask. Still holding her off the floor, he drew the machete and cut through his clothes into his own chest. After sheathing the weapon, he ripped open his shirt with one swift movement and pulled her head into the blood. Instinctively, Lyra opened her mouth to take in the warm fluid; the pulsating grew within her as she swallowed. Kane held her head against him; his chest rose and fell heavily as if aroused by her lips.

Eventually, Lyra released him, his blood covering her lips. Both panted as pain and pleasure consumed them. Kane pushed her back deeper into the trunk, holding her with a single hand. Lyra stared into his eyes as he pulled her dress up with the other and released himself. Her legs clasped his hips and he pushed into her furiously. She took his rage with an equal ferocity, grinding against him as he thrust into her. Every touch tingled with an inhuman sensitivity. She was alive at last!

You are mine now, Lyra moaned in response, her feet digging into his back as if to force him further inside of her. Kane responded with harder strides. He ran his fingers back along her neck wound and dug his sharp talons in; Lyra released an agonised cry of lust. The pulses electrified her; the waves blew into a fire that sucked her inwards. Kane pulled her hair back and gave one almighty thrust, causing her waves to peak instantly and spectacularly. As her aching throbs clung to him, he reached his own peak and filled her. As Lyra’s violent pulses calmed Kane caught her shoulders in his free arm and carried her back to the cabin. She was his, but he had to ensure her total obedience to him; that would be her final test.

Kane 21 – Chapter Twenty-One: Truth and Lies

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-21-chapter-twenty-one-truth-and-lies/

Lyra needed to rest as her body adjusted to the metamorphosis. It would be a slow process and the first two days were the most painful and tiring. Kane had facilitated the process by feeding her from his own veins prior to his attack to his attack. Watching Lyra convulse had been both excruciatingly painful and exquisite simultaneously, just as the words of her surrender had captivated and aroused him so ardently. She belonged to him and rested in his arms, having succumbed to pure submission as he carried her back to the cabin.

Kane pulled the blanket from the bed and laid Lyra down. Gently, he undressed her and washed the blood from her face and covered her with the duvet.
‘Kane,’ Lyra whispered. He tilted his head to show that he was listening. ‘What have you done to me?’ The pounding and pulsating thumped in her veins, but it was softer than before. Fatigue spread over her, and she closed her eyes, giving in to it. Kane did not respond to her question; she was far too exhausted for explanations. Instead, he removed his gloves and rested a hand on her forehead.

You belong to me now, Kane clarified. No more running, no more betrayal. Lyra acquiesced with a slight nod. She had made her choice; a choice which she did fully comprehend. The pulsating changed; morphed into a sensitive ache that washed over her nerves. Lyra flexed against the pain as it grew inside of her. She grunted under her breath and winced. Her back arched with the sudden onslaught of nervous spasms, which subsided into a warm stinging sensation which clawed at her blood vessels.

Kane waited for the spasms to subside and held Lyra as she panted. Beads of sweat formed on Lyra’s brow.
‘Kane,’ she moaned in unbearable torment. The creature pulled her across his lap and into his arms, so that he could cradle her through the worst of it. Lyra’s body heat emitted a profound glow, yet she shook with chills. Kane tilted her chin up and locked his eyes on hers. Relax, he willed. Lyra complied instantly, taking a deep breath and giving in to the pain. She let her head fall into the crook of Kane’s elbow and reached her arm about his waist. Relax, for me, the monster insisted. Her muscles collapsed under his will as the pain flowed through her. Gradually, the pain returned to pulses which slowly ebbed away, and Lyra sank into a deep sleep.

Kane watched over his woman as she drifted in and out of consciousness restlessly for two long nights. Lyra could sense his presence; either next to her or close by, sharpening his weapon and tools or installing some new security measure. Occasionally she heard Harlon’s voice as he delivered the unusual stew. Kane would wet her lips with water every few hours, yet her throat still dried; he also embraced her when the pain seemed to be at its worst. As the moon rose for the third time the pain eased and Lyra slept peacefully.

She woke to the sound of bells. Kane did not rush away as he had previously done, but instead waited for Harlon to arrive and keep Lyra company. She heard him fasten the scabbard and dart into the tunnels. Harlon sat on an old rocking chair beside Lyra.
‘How you feelin’ there, Missy?’ he asked with a genuine concern in his voice.
‘Better than I was,’ Lyra replied groggily.
‘You hearin’ things clearer?’ the old man asked. Lyra focused on her ears. The sounds of rats scurrying in the basement rang out clearly; she could tell the direction of the wind by the breeze through the trees, and she could even hear the nocturnal animals roaming outside in the woodland.

‘I can hear everything,’ Lyra replied at length. Harlon lit a small lamp in the corner of the room, tilted Lyra’s face up to look at him, and examined her wounds with his hands.
‘You healed well too, you’re a strong one!’
‘What’s happening to me?’ Lyra asked wistfully, ‘Kane will not tell me anything.’
‘I don’t wanna be treadin’ on the boy’s toes now, Missy, do I?’ Harlon replied, whilst sitting her up and checking over her back and shoulders. ‘Yep, healed well you have.’ The old man raised Lyra’s pillows and sat her up. ‘You eat something now, some stew?’
‘Why stew, why nothing else?’ Lyra queried, fearing that she already knew the answer.
‘Things are different for ya now, Missy, all you need is in what I make you.’ Lyra nodded slowly as the reality of her situation dawned on her.

‘I’ll eat the stew, if you tell me truthfully what he is, and what I am becoming,’ Lyra bargained. Harlon sighed; the woman had some tenacity given that she had sacrificed her will to the creature. Harlon sighed with resignation,
‘He’s what they call ‘Immortalis’ like legends that you read about. He doesn’t die; you won’t die, but your strength depends on…’ Harlon waited to see what she knew and what she had guessed.
‘Like vampires?’ Lyra suggested after some thought.
‘Vampires is a myth that come from Immortalis. Everyone is different and has different ways of living and feeding. The boy, well, he has a lot of anger in him and he likes the hunt, so that’s how he does it.’ Harlon jumped up and shuffled out of the room, returning with the stew.

‘I told you now, so you gotta eat!’ the old man insisted. Lyra took the container and spoon and did as she had promised. Her probing continued after a few mouthfuls,
‘So, it’s not blood then, you know, like vampires?’
‘It is the blood, you got that right, and it has to be fresh, not cooked.’ Lyra looked drearily into the bowl, imagining the old man pouring blood into the food, and grimaced. ‘Now, you don’t really have much choice, do ya?’ Harlon muttered.
‘How did he become this way?’ Lyra asked, knowing that he had met Harlon as a boy.
‘Old Harlon is very old, very, very old. They called us ‘Ghouls’ once. We protect the Immortalis. When the boy came to me, he was sick; I asked for help from an old, old friend, Lilith, and took the boy on.’ Harlon paused to avoid divulging too much information.
‘What do you mean, took on?’ Lyra mumbled between mouthfuls, ‘Surely he could look after himself if he was immortal?’

Harlon laughed,
‘You think that once you’re immortal you know everything, Missy? Or you get superpowers?’ Lyra shrugged. ‘Ain’t like that. You have to learn to use what nature gives to ya, and Old Harlon, well, he trains the immortalis and makes sure they don’t get into no trouble.’
‘So, you trained and protect Kane?’ The old man nodded, ‘And you,’ he added. Lyra narrowed her eyes in confusion,
‘Train me for what?’
‘Train you to protect yourself, to fend for yourself, to use your gifts.’
‘What gifts?’
‘Everyone has gifts, Missy. The boy see a gift in you!’ Harlon took the empty container from Lyra.
‘What, my art?’ Lyra asked, wondering how on Earth she could defend herself with a paintbrush.
‘No, not your art. What was in your art; you see people for what they are and what they think,’ Harlon corrected.
‘You’re talking about empathy!’
‘Yes, you’re an empath like Old Harlon, that’s why you can hear the boy. Now you got other senses that need exercising.’ Harlon hoped that she would be satisfied with his answers, but Lyra persisted,
‘What senses?’
‘I already told ya, Missy, Old Harlon gonna teach you to hunt.’

Kane had been preparing new traps as Lyra slept; testing new methods to catch trespassers. The tone of the bell indicated that one of those traps had been activated. The trap was such that he did not have to rush and was able to summon Harlon to protect his woman. Once the old man had arrived Kane marched through the tunnels to the depths of the forest where the bank set the trees apart. He exited the tunnel with haste and walked slowly and menacingly towards his prey.

‘Hunt what?’ Lyra asked awkwardly.
‘You know well what,’ Harlon insisted, ‘Not just hunting though, Missy, there are thems that’ll hunt you; you gotta know how to defend yourself.’
‘Who would hunt me?’ Panic rose in the woman’s throat as she spoke.
‘Thems that don’t want gods on the Earth, I s’pose,’ Harlon muttered nonchalantly.
‘People?’
‘Humans trained since birth is what they are,’ Harlon corrected, ‘Good for us there ain’t too many, but still there are a few. Trained in the fighting and the old texts, they do come every now and then.’ Lyra grunted under her breath; the information had become overwhelming and more than she expected.
‘So, am I like him now?’ Harlon raised a wrinkled finger and scratched the corner of his eye,
‘Almost,’ he muttered.
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning not until you done your first hunt and…’
‘And what?’ Lyra snapped, already knowing the answer.
‘Blood of the flesh is in the life is what!’

Kane marched slowly towards the human; a young girl, hunter of sorts, hanging upside down from the canopy of the trees. The barbed wire that he had planted looped tightly about one leg, cutting deeply into the skin. Her long dark hair splayed downwards, and she struggled; fighting against the pain in a bid to escape. Kane marched towards her in the moonlight, ever so slowly. The girl caught sight of him, and with the rifle still firmly fixed in her hands attempted to shoot. Kane sidestepped each shot with ease, his movements deliberately tormenting. It was unlikely that a girl like that, so vulnerable, would be in the forest alone. He waited until further shots rang from behind and swiftly disappeared into the shadow of the trees.

‘So, you expect me to drink someone’s blood?’ Lyra asked disgustedly.
‘You drank the boys, didn’t ya?’ Harlon smirked. Lyra flushed shyly.
‘That’s different, I…’ she began, but found herself unable to explain that particular choice.
‘It’s the way it is, Missy, and that’s all there is to it.’ Harlon took her hand in his. ‘Old Harlon promises you that it ain’t gonna taste bad to ya, not now, not anymore.’ He tightened his grip reassuringly.

‘Where is he?’ a large bearded hunter called up to the strung-up girl, his plaid shirt blowing behind him in the breeze.
‘I don’t know, just get me down,’ the girl screamed.
‘We tried that already; I can’t budge the wire. I have to go get help.’
‘Are you kidding, John? Don’t you dare leave me here!’ the girl snapped, flailing in the trap. A strange humming rang out in the nearby trees.
‘What the…’ the girl began. John looked about him curiously. The sound grew louder and closer.
‘Sounds like a…’ John began. His words cut short as his waist was severed by the whirring blade of a chainsaw.

‘I don’t know if I can kill another person,’ Lyra muttered, gripping the old man’s hand.
‘Ain’t another person, you’re different now, didn’t Old Harlon tell ya that?’ Harlon could see the possibility of an internal struggle rearing its head again, ‘They have a choice; Old Harlon sees outsiders in town, he tells them not to come, warns them. They choose.’
‘But…’
‘But nothin’,’ Harlon interrupted, ‘You need to feed. You gave yourself to him, didn’t ya? So, his choice, not yours.’
‘Is that true of all Immortalis?’
‘Nope, you’re not listening, are ya? They’re all different. The boy, well, he’s what they call a sadist; he wants your submission. He look after you, and the time will come.’

The two parts of John’s body separated and fell to the ground, wrapped in spurts of blood. Kane’s ears rang with the girl’s exquisitely hideous screams. He switched the chainsaw off and dropped it, drawing the machete from the scabbard and holding it above his head. A wire ran slyly up the trunk of one of the trees, and he loosened it. The girl dropped down so that her head hung just above the forest floor.

‘What time?’ Lyra pursued nervously.
‘Time you see him the way he is, Missy?’ Harlon replied sternly.
‘You mean unmasked?’ Lyra mumbled. She had heard that he was deformed and monstrous to look upon and feared what she would see.
‘Unmasked, yep. Then he see how devoted you really are!’
‘Is he that frightful?’ Lyra asked.
‘He don’t take kindly to no one who can’t bear his face, he can’t.’ Harlon released her hand. ‘If you’re truly devoted, you’ll kneel to him whatever his face, won’t ya?’ Lyra rubbed her head,
‘Kneel?’
‘Like I said, the boy wants to know you’re loyal whatever.’

Kane dragged the machete blade over the girl’s face and along her hanging body. Rain started to pour from the night sky.
‘Please,’ the girl begged, ‘Let me go. I won’t say anything. I promise.’ Reasoning, they all tried to reason. Holding the machete with one hand, he raised the other hand and pulled up his mask. The girl screamed at the sight, riddled with abject horror. The fury burned through him, and with an almighty rage he threw the blade down between her legs and bisected her in one horrendous blow. One half remained dangling in the barbed wire. The other slithered to the floor.

Bottom of Form

Kane 22 – Chapter Twenty-Two: Appearances

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-22-chapter-twenty-two-appearances/

‘Well, Missy,’ Harlon mumbled, ‘I gots to go now.’
‘He’s on his way back, isn’t he?’ Lyra said, listening to the forest, ‘I can sense him.’
‘Yep, and the hunt, well, it makes him kinda thirsty, if you know what I mean?’ Lyra nodded.
‘Besides, Old Harlon got things to do if you wanna eat right, don’t he?’ Lyra still had not processed the idea of her new diet, and simply smiled awkwardly. Harlon looked at the woman with something akin to pity, ‘Now, Missy, there’s a lot of things you’re gonna have to get used to, new things from an old world.’ He rested his hand on her shoulder, ‘But don’t you worry none. You do as he says, and you be alright!’
‘Like what?’ Lyra replied.
‘Well, this is a whole new world for you, and you have to learn to live in it, and see the way he sees.’ Lyra sighed deeply, resigned to whatever fate she had accepted. ‘When you sacrificed yourself to him, gave yourself to him, you agreed to step into the unknown.’
‘I didn’t sacrifice myself!’ Lyra retorted.
‘Missy, the minute you offered your life to him, to fall at his hand, you gave up your life. You belong to him now, but the sacrifice and the change, it takes time.’ Harlon looked up as if listening to a distant sound, ‘Now Old Harlon has to go, remember what I said, obey him and you will be alright.’ With that the old man dimmed the lights, turned on his heel and left Lyra alone in the darkness.

Lyra waited until she heard Kane’s footsteps, and as if hearing an unspoken command, stripped and lay ready for him. She could feel his mighty presence as he entered the room and sighed as the need in her stomach welled. The contours of his powerful body glowed in the moonlight, highlighted by his magnificent height. Lyra’s eyes clung to his body as he dropped his jacket on the floor, followed by his tool belt. Kane strode over to his nubile woman and reached across the headboard, drawing a length of rope. Using the blood-stained weapon, he sliced two chunks from it and hurriedly bound her feet to each end of the bed frame. Lyra shuddered under his touch; a mixture of anticipated pleasure and a continued fear of the creature.

She succumbed as the monster took her wrists and strapped them to the remainder of the hanging rope. As Lyra lay at his mercy Kane ran the cool blade along her flesh; over her belly and breasts and brought it to her lips. The metallic smell of blood filled her nose, and a need to taste it quelled her anticipated disgust of the feed. Her tongue licked her own lower lip as she savoured the aroma. Kane moved the steel closer, so that it just touched her swelling mouth. She knew what he wanted; he did not have to communicate his desire, nor explain hers.

Lyra eased her tongue out carefully and licked the blood from the blade. The taste proved divine; she craved it the minute the fluid touched her tongue. Nothing had prepared her for the instant bloodlust that surged through her being. Any reservations she might have had faded with both the taste and the ecstatic feeling that enthralled her as she fed. Her tongue ran along the length of the blade. The vision of her silhouette feeding from his kill enraptured Kane. A third time she licked, cleaning one side of the machete. Her eyes locked on Kane; his superior vision could see the wild glint forming; the glint common to the Immortalis. The desire for blood.

Kane turned the blade and allowed his woman to continue licking the life fluid until the blade was clean. Lyra relaxed into the pillow, savouring the last droplets as they slid down her throat. Kane dragged the blade back down her body, extremely slowly, savouring her struggle to remain still and protect her skin. The slight shiver that ran through her belly delighted him, and he paused, pressing the blade slightly harder against her, causing a further shiver.

Lyra closed her eyes and listened as the machete was returned to its sheath, and the sheath was dropped to the floor. The blood’s magic continued to excite her body, as did her vulnerability to the monster. She could hear him removing his clothes. His desire was greater even than her own. The hunter back from the kill had come to collect its true prize. He stalked about the bed, gazing at his prey; her senses were greater now, even the darkness would not shield his true face from her sight. Kane willed her to raise her head, and she acquiesced immediately, allowing him to blindfold her. The mask was lifted, and the creature climbed between her bound legs.

His mouth dropped to her belly, tasting her skin, as he moved towards her breasts and then her throat. He licked the rapidly healing mark that he had left on her neck. Her taste had changed; the divine scent and flavour of her blood proved irresistible. With one sharp talon he opened the wound and clamped his mouth on it. Lyra stiffened and whimpered under his cruel touch. Instinctively she wanted to wrap her legs about his and pull him closer but was unable to do so. His knots were tight, and with each movement she grazed against the rope. The grazing was nowhere near as unbearable as his teasing.

Lyra kissed Kane’s bare shoulder as he sucked on her metamorphosing blood. She could feel her body changing, developing; it no longer hurt or pulsated. The pain had become pleasure previously unknown to her. The creature released her and used a talon to open his own throat, his body pressed down on hers as he put the wound to her mouth. Without hesitation, mesmerized by the taste of blood, Lyra fed furiously from her lover. Vibrations stimulated every nerve in her being with a passion.

Her breath and lips on his neck excited Kane, but Lyra clasped him for longer than necessary. Kane tried to ease her away, but she struggled against him, biting into him, hungry for more. He shivered as she bit into him; her strength was accelerating rapidly. Between biting she used licks and gentle nips to tease him and arouse him craftily. The monster used his heavy hand to turn her from him and nipped into her own wound, causing her to cry out. Before she had a chance to recover Kane moved up between her legs and pressed against her. Lyra wanted so desperately to push her legs against him for her own pleasure and scuffled further against the ropes tied so tightly to her ankles.

Kane allowed Lyra to writhe urgently against him, teasing her for some time until he heard the words that he so needed from her. His knots were too strong; she could not slacken the rope. The monster used the force of his body to drive up against her; he could feel her growing dampness and smell her beautiful, needy aroma. She would give in without having to be asked. He pushed against her again, and the woman, delirious with desire, moaned and begged,
‘Kane, please.’ Instantly the creature forced himself deep inside her and Lyra cried out desperately. Her stomach tightened with each thrust, and her lip trembled. The surging waves engulfed her with a greater strength than ever before. She wanted more; her body continued to writhe against him, and she chewed painfully on her lip.

Kane relished every movement, every pure indication of her submission to him. His mouth came down hard on her lips, and he penetrated her with his tongue, tasting the remains of his victims’ blood on hers. His hands took hold of her shoulders so that he could move with a greater ferocity. The waves passed through her and over her, engulfing her completely and growing with each thrust.

As the sensation grew within her Lyra experienced an internal shift; a cosmic force growing within her. Again, she writhed against the rope, and with one inhuman force wrenched the ropes from the bed frame. Her legs dug into Kane’s thighs and she drove him further into her. Her body lightened as if she had levitated and she wrenched her hands free with equal strength and grabbed the monster’s hips with equal fervour. Her lips stung wickedly. The alluring smell of him drowned her in sensation. She bit at his wound again, and as the blood trickled into her mouth, and as he shook against her, the wave released and flooded her body. Lyra screamed out his name, throwing them both into a mutual, unbearable release.

For a while they lay together, their bodies calming from the torrential climax, in silence. Once Lyra’s pounding heart eased Kane put his mask on and removed her blindfold. Lyra remained still, obediently waiting for his instructions.
Three times, the words hung in the air.
‘Three times what?’ Lyra asked with confusion. Blood exchange, three times, Kane indicated.
‘We only exchanged blood twice,’ Lyra stated. Three exchanges, Kane confirmed. There will be three. Lyra nodded,
‘For it to be complete?’ Kane stroked her cheek, and she thought of Harlon’s words warning her to obey.

Lyra looked up at the mask and ran her hand from Kane’s neck to the base of the mask.
‘Will you ever let me see?’ she asked wistfully. Kane grabbed her hand with brute strength and pushed it from him angrily. ‘I don’t care what you look like.’ Lyra flushed, hurt by his action. ‘I’ve seen what you have done, I’m still yours.’ Kane jumped away from her and proceeded to dress without responding. For an instant he stopped as if listening to the darkness; Lyra listened too. There was something moving in the distance. Quickly, she drew her attention back to Kane who was fastening his scabbard. ‘Kane, I don’t care what you…’ Her words abruptly ceased as he snapped his neck furiously towards her.

Bells rang in the basement. The hunters had not come alone. He had been so consumed with lust that he had missed the third member of the party. The rage was eating away at him; the thought of her looking at his true face filled him with an evil agony. Lyra’s stomach thrummed with a new hollow pain as Kane marched away from her, leaving her naked and alone on his bed.

‘John, where are you?’ a man of a similar appearance to John called. ‘Bro, where you at?’ he shouted again. Brian had been looking unsuccessfully for his brother for some time. His torch was dimming, and he moved about heavily through the woods. He had walked around the edge of the lake, and through the trails but to no avail. His search sent him deeper into the forest until he found himself staggering down a muddy ditch into a clearing. Nothing moved. He edged further under the canopy of trees. The fading light swished about in the darkness until something caught his head. Brian let out a deep cry and reached up to his scalp. There, embedded in his skin, was a piece of barbed wire dangling from the trees.

Painfully he unpicked the spikes from his head and shone his torch upwards. The wire was flecked with the crimson hue of blood. Brian gazed upwards, but there was nothing visibly attached to or caught in the wire. He glanced down to the forest floor, where smatters of blood patched the leaves; large spots of blood. Fear shot through him; his missing companions, the wire, the blood, none of it boded well. He shone the torch around and checked his vicinity. Nothing could be seen.

Carefully, and trying desperately to keep as quiet as possible, Brian stepped away from the scene. He turned back towards the ditch and clumsily climbed upwards. At the peak he darted through the woods towards the lake and trails with haste. Every so often he checked his perimeter, but there was no movement. He headed back to the cabin by the lake, where the party had left their vehicle. As he ran, he pulled his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans and flipped the case open. There was no signal. The moon shone over the lake and provided enough light for Brian to find his way back to the cabin. There he fell against the parked station wagon and desperately pressed at his phone and wiggled it about in an attempt to get a signal.

From his other pocket Brian pulled a set of keys and unlocked the driver’s side door. As he pulled the door open something sharp snapped at his neck, cutting into both sides. Brian spun around as he let out a yell. Before him loomed a horrendously deformed creature; one eye was lower than the other, his lip was cleft on the same side and his skin rugged and leathery.
‘What the fuck are you?’ he yelled. The creature watched him with deliriously evil eyes and a snarl on his lip. Brian backed away around the car. The creature waited. ‘That ain’t right!’ the terrified man cried, staring at the monster.

Brian’s eyes looked down; the monster held a bloodied set of secateurs. The injured man touched his neck where warm trickles of blood stung. The monster stepped forward, gauging the man’s reaction to his face; sheer horror, beneath the fear, sheer horror and disgust. Kane widened the blades and ran towards the man; this time the blades sliced into his throat. A gargling sound filled the air and Kane widened the blades once more, this time removing Brian’s head in one wrath-filled cut.

Kane 23 – Chapter Twenty-Three: Physical

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-23-chapter-twenty-three-physical/

Lyra lifted the bow in her left hand and placed the arrow against the string. She pulled back on the arrow, releasing the dart at speed. The arrow shot through the air and bypassed the trunk of a tree that stood in the distance. She tutted and swung the bow around in her hand.
‘I told you before, Missy, you move your arm when you release, so you gots to either aim to the right a bit or keep your arm still, one or the other,’ Harlon explained patiently, whilst handing her another arrow. ‘And don’t be swinging that bow, look it.’ He took hold of her shoulder and lowered her arm to the left. ‘Lower it, don’t swing it. Now, again.’ Lyra huffed and raised the bow again, deliberately in an exaggerated version of Harlon’s demonstration on lowering it. The old man ignored her mood and nodded for her to proceed.

Again, she pulled the arrow back on the string and released. The arrow flew past the tree, just scraping the bark. ‘Better?’ Lyra snapped.
‘You got the right idea, but you gots to aim for the mark. It’s no good being near the mark, all that business of hitting part of the board ain’t no good. You gots to hit the mark dead on.’ Harlon handed her another arrow, ‘Now,’ he started, shifting her arm to the right, ‘you gots to compensate for moving.’ Lyra went to release, but the old man’s fingers caught her, ‘Don’t be rushing, you wanna see how far off you are so you can move your arm that way.’ Lyra sighed stroppily, pulled back the string and released. ‘Now you see how off you are,’ Harlon stated as the arrow disappeared into the distance, ‘Move your arm that far. Try again.’

Lyra stared at the target; a minute slit Harlon had chipped into the bark. She pulled back the string again and moved her arm to the right before releasing. The arrow landed perfectly on the marked spot. ‘I did it,’ Lyra chirped.
‘Great, now you do it twenty more times, then we try moving targets.’ Lyra scowled, defeated, as Harlon removed the arrow from the tree. ‘Twenty more times, Missy.’ Harlon collected a handful of arrows from his own quiver and dropped them into the quiver on her back, ‘And you pull them this time, I can’t be following you ‘round handing you arrows, can I?’ Lyra guessed that Harlon was making a statement as opposed to asking a question and opted not to answer.

‘He’s angry with me,’ Lyra muttered, pulling an arrow from her quiver.
‘The boy?’ Harlon asked, ‘I told you, Missy, you obey.’ Lyra released the arrow, hitting the target perfectly.
‘I did.’ She loaded up another arrow, as Harlon set about fetching the previous shot.
‘Boy’s got some temper, don’t he?’ Harlon added, whilst watching her aim. ‘Don’t forget to compensate,’ he added.
‘I know why he’s angry with me.’ Another arrow hit the target. ‘I asked to see him.’ Lyra hesitated and turned to look at the old man.
‘Talk all you want, Missy, but keep practising.’ Lyra continued to shoot at the mark. Once she returned her focus to her practice the old man continued speaking, ‘Guess he don’t want you hating him, is all.’
‘I’ve seen him kill; don’t you think if I was going to hate him that would be the cause?’ Lyra asked, perplexed.

‘You accepted him for what he is, you gave yourself to him,’ Harlon explained, ‘Only person ever close to him, he figures you see his face, well then, that’s it.’ Lyra went to lower her bow, ‘Good arm work, Missy, but you need to keep going.’ Another arrow hit the mark and Harlon hurriedly retrieved it.
‘I didn’t really have much choice, though, did I?’ Lyra barked. ‘No choice at all, do or die, not really a choice.’ Harlon chuckled,
‘Hate it, do you?’
‘Hate what?’ the woman replied, shooting a succession of arrows that landed so precisely that a mass was formed in the bark. Harlon sauntered over, muttering,
‘You know well what.’ He pulled the arrows from the tree indignantly, ‘Making like you don’t know.’

Lyra blushed with embarrassment,
‘That’s different.’ Harlon chuckled as Lyra released another succession of arrows.
‘Different? I think it’s all about the same, don’t you?’ Harlon scoffed, ‘I seen this, I know what it is, strong, powerful hunter, that’s your animal instincts, Missy. Kickin’ in. All the morals in the world won’t make no difference to those urges.’ Lyra looked thoughtfully at Harlon,
‘It doesn’t change the fact that he is angry with me. I don’t want to make him angry!’
‘Still frightened of him, ain’t ya?’ Harlon asked knowingly.
‘Of course, I am,’ Lyra replied whilst releasing more arrows. ‘But,’ she flushed again, ‘But, I…’
‘Need him?’ Harlon queried as he wandered back to the tree trunk. ‘Want him?’ Lyra gulped. ‘You can tell Old Harlon, Old Harlon looks after you.’

‘You look after him too!’ Lyra observed, deliberately taking more shots before Harlon had managed to return the last load.
‘Looks after both of you,’ Harlon muttered, returning to the tree with a huff. ‘You goin’ answerin’?’
‘Answering?’ Lyra said, lowering the bow, ‘That’s more than twenty hits.’
‘I throw targets now, you hit. Focus beyond the target, focus beyond the direction, and aim into the distance.’ Harlon reloaded the woman’s quiver and pointed in the direction of his throw. ‘That way!’ he shouted, releasing a moving target that he had clearly carved from wood. Lyra followed it visually and stealthily released an arrow, missing the shot.

‘You still gots to compensate,’ Harlon snapped, ‘Again!’ He released a second target, and with her improved vision Lyra followed it, shifted her arm and released, hitting the central mark. ‘He’s a predator, Missy, and you want him, is that it?’ Harlon asked slyly. Lyra lowered her bow,
‘No, no, that’s not it. I mean, yes, I do, but that’s not it.’ The old man nodded wisely.
‘You can’t get your head round it, can ya, Missy?’ Lyra shook her head, and Harlon noted a look of sadness within her profoundly large, dark eyes. As a distraction he threw another target, and she shot it with efficiency, but the distraction failed and Lyra continued,
‘I know what he is, and what he does. He’s an animal, he’s violent, sadistic. He’s hurt me.’ She waited to see if the old man reacted, but he did not.

Before drawing another arrow, Lyra rubbed her hand across her head as if scratching with the pads of her fingers.
‘Again,’ Harlon insisted, releasing another target. Lyra drew and hit before lowering her bow. ‘Are you gonna tell Old Harlon what you really wants to say?’ Harlon asked.
‘There was no life before, not now. I can’t see it, it’s like a dream I once had,’ Lyra mumbled, half to Harlon, half to herself.
‘That’s because you’re becoming fully alive.’ The old man released another target and waited for his apprentice to shoot it down. ‘The boy ain’t human, and soon you won’t be, not anymore.’
‘If he decides to continue! What if I anger him and he takes my life?’ Lyra’s eyes filled with sadness.
‘Are you sad ‘bout death?’ Harlon asked, ‘Don’t think that’s what you sad about, is it, Missy?’ Lyra shook her head.

‘I thought he was going to kill me, he made me feel so lost, he wanted me to die, and in that instant, I guess I was dead.’ Harlon smiled and put his arm around the woman, sensing a deep emptiness within her. ‘So, I told him just to end it because…’
‘Because at that moment he made sure that you would offer your life to him? Ain’t that right?’ Harlon nodded, giving her a squeeze. ‘Still don’t get it, do ya, Missy? He chose you, but Immortalis, well, see, they have rules for things to work the way they need to, and you had to give yourself to him, otherwise the rest don’t work.’
‘Well then, I never chose,’ Lyra argued.
‘You chose, you choose every time he touches you and you don’t stop him. You chose when you knew you would rather die than live without him.’ Harlon sniffed and decided to venture further, ‘And you chose when you realised that you were in love with him.’

Lyra tilted her chin and looked at the old man,
‘I never said that,’ she stated assertively.
‘Don’t have to say it, Missy, don’t have to read ya to know it a neither.’ Lyra’s eyes welled with water, but she fought back the tears,
‘How can I? How can I love some emotionless, murderous thing?’ Harlon placed a hand on each of her shoulders,
‘Remember, Missy, that boy had people hatin’ on him before he was what he is. He don’t want you to see his face because he thinks you will hate him too, and talking ‘bout him like that don’t help none.’
‘He left last night and never came back,’ Lyra muttered.
‘He’s scared, Missy, he’s angry and scared. He knows you gonna see him some time and then he don’t know.’
‘Is he that bad to see?’ Lyra asked.

Harlon gestured towards the tree,
‘We gonna try something else now.’ Lyra tried to search his face for an answer to her question, but he gave nothing away. ‘You climb up the tree and drop down from the top.’ Lyra cast her gaze up the magnanimous trunk. The branches seemed firm and plenty, but the drop was phenomenal.
‘I can’t jump out of there!’ she stated, ‘No way.’
‘You can, you drop, you bend at the knee when you land. Easy enough,’ Harlon retorted.
‘Easy enough? You do it then!’ Lyra crossed her arms in defiance.
‘Old Harlon don’t go climbing no trees, not the same as you!’ The old man pointed, ‘Climb up, drop down.’
‘I’m not the same as Kane!’ Lyra snapped, ‘Three times, Kane said. I’m not ready.’
‘You’re ready for this. Old Harlon been about enough to know.’ Lyra took a deep breath and ran towards the tree.

Her arms caught the first branch, and she swung upwards from branch to branch with ease until she reached the top. The view over the forest and lake made her gasp; she had not realised how magnificent her chosen paradise appeared. It was her home; the home that she had yearned for, and the home that she had come to. She scanned the forest hoping to see Kane, but he was nowhere to be found.
‘Now, take the nearest branch and hang under it.’ Lyra obeyed with little difficulty. ‘Now drop!’ Harlon shouted. The woman took another breath and released. Her senses attuned instantly to the speed of the fall; she adjusted her body accordingly, bent her knees and landed like a warrior.

‘You’re a natural,’ Harlon observed, clapping. Lyra smiled, but Harlon still sensed the sadness within her. ‘Don’t be worrying, Missy. It’s all a lot to take in, but this is your world now and you already chose it, so you gots to accept that now, ain’t ya?’ Lyra pursed her lips and nodded. ‘How about you show Old Harlon how you swim?’
‘I’m a good swimmer,’ Lyra stated eagerly.
‘You gonna be a better swimmer now,’ Harlon assured, signalling for her to follow him to the lake.

The water did not feel cold, not remotely. Her body coped with the change of temperature and Lyra did not even catch her breath when she first stepped in.
‘You’re feelin’ the difference straight away, ain’t ya?’ the old man observed, ‘You can see better and you can go under longer and you can stay down easier.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ Lyra asked from the shallows.
‘I want you to go under and come up at the raft!’ Lyra looked at the distance between herself and the old wooden platform and frowned.
‘It’s too far!’ she retorted, ‘I’ll need to come up.’
‘Now, Missy, if you’ve learned anything today, it’s that you can do things that you couldn’t before.’ Harlon waved his hand in a diving motion, ‘Under and up before Kane gets here!’

Kane 24 – Chapter Twenty-Four: Locked

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-24-chapter-twenty-four-locked/

Lyra scanned the forest, and then closed her eyes to enable her improved hearing to pick up any sounds.
‘Kane isn’t here!’ she observed at length.
‘Well, is that so?’ The old man laughed, ‘If he ain’t, then you got a head start. If he is, then you need to work more on your senses. There’s more senses than ya know.’ Lyra looked across the vast expanse of water between herself and the raft. ‘Speed, Missy, you gotta go for speed. Forget everything you think you know and go for speed,’ Harlon instructed, ‘And keep thems eyes open, you’ll see fine however deep ya go.’ Lyra nodded and dove under the surface. She rapidly moved from the shallows to an underwater ridge, dodging the weeds and branches as she swam. Speed, she thought as she sank deeper. Her feet instinctively kicked, but as she progressed the movement changed, and they flipped together side by side. Her arms spread through the waters, and then merged to accentuate the movement of her feet. Her body torpedoed through the lake, her eyes guiding her to the shadow of the raft. Once she had reached her destination, she cut upwards through the water and grasped the edges of the wood. Her eyes did not blink as she emerged from the waters; instead they focused on the figure standing over her.

Kane stood tall on the raft, soaking wet. Lyra wondered how she had failed to see him moving past her in the lake. He reached down and, taking her hand in his, lifted her from the water. Lyra gazed up at him; she had missed him holding her through the night. The bed had been cold without him, and she had barely slept waiting for his return; he had abandoned her with only his wrath to keep her company.
‘I’m sorry I hurt you,’ Lyra whispered. Kane tilted his head as if he did not understand what she was saying. ‘Last night, I’m sorry.’ He put a finger to her lips to silence her, then turned his back, took her arms in his hands and lifted her onto his back. Lyra obediently placed her arms about his neck.

The monster dove into the waters, carrying his woman. His body rocketed to the depths and straightened before impact. Kane remained still for a time and checked that her arms were secured firmly about him. He then shot like a harpoon through the water. At the underwater ridge he dropped his feet to the lake bed and walked slowly up the ridge and out of the depths until their heads rose above the surface. He checked that her arms were securely locked on him again and strode from the water.

Harlon waited on the shore,
‘Which is it? Was the boy there or did he outswim you?’ Kane lifted Lyra down onto the sand. Instinctively her hand reached for Kane’s head and as she touched him her eyes glinted, her breath bated and she shook,
‘Neither.’ Her voice lowered as she spoke; she looked into his eyes, ‘He was already there. He waited under the water for me.’ Harlon nodded,
‘Good,’ he praised with a genuine pride, ‘You’re seeing things as they are.’
‘No,’ Lyra responded, ‘I’m not seeing, I just know.’
‘That’s what Old Harlon means!’ the old man stated, and then turned to Kane, ‘She’s a fast learner, boy, you picked well.’ Lyra blushed with appreciation, but her eyes fixated on Kane. Her hand remained on his skin, and his eyes locked on hers. Harlon sensed that the two were communicating, but somehow shutting him out of their conversation.

‘Guess you two wanna be alone,’ Harlon observed kindly. Neither moved. ‘How about Old Harlon goes and makes you some food?’ Still neither moved. ‘So, I guess that’s it for today then,’ Harlon continued pointlessly. The old man looked at the couple who were clearly locked in some kind of communication, shrugged and sauntered off towards his trail, muttering, ‘Yep, make some food.’

I’m sorry, Lyra signalled, intentionally focusing her mind only on Kane. The world about them disappeared into a bleak haze. Kane locked on to her thoughts with equal vigor. I want to see the real you, she continued.
Murdering thing, Kane communicated.
You heard me? Lyra thought back to her earlier words to the old man.
Heard you? I hear everything. Kane’s eyes bored deeper into her skull.
I don’t want you listening to everything, Lyra indicated nervously.
You don’t have a choice. Lyra’s eyelids grew heavy as his eyes mesmerized hers. You belong to me.
Is that what you want? A pet? Someone who just agrees with you, without feeling or opinion? Lyra pressed. Kane softly placed his hand against her cheek. I want to see you as you really are, she insisted boldly.
A monster, is that what you want to see? Kane stepped closer to her, tilting her chin up to retain eye contact.
I’ve seen the monster, Lyra asserted, growing bolder. The conflict thickened between them, as did the desire.

I can’t leave you, so why does it matter? Lyra probed. I have seen the monster, she reiterated again.
There is always a way out for you. She could sense his growing ire.
My choice then; be with you or die? Lyra pressed, the ache for him growing inside of her.
Your choice to come so violently when I touch you, to beg me to touch you. That’s your choice. Kane had the upper hand. You can call me a monster, but you would rather have this monster inside you than anyone else. He was using her own mind against her, and she flushed at his words, knowing that he spoke the truth. He leaned in closer to her. I can smell you, your own body is giving you away. Her lips parted, and she felt her breaths increase with his words, yet she remained strong.

Then, let me see you. If he could use her desire against her, then she could play the same game. She thought carefully about his passions, and focused deeper on his thoughts.
‘Please, Kane,’ the words fell from her tremoring lips, ‘Let me see you.’ At once she sensed his confusion as he realized what she was doing to him. ‘Please, Kane,’ she whispered wistfully once again.
Don’t play games with me, woman! He commanded so powerfully that the words hurt her head, but she refused to release him. She searched further into his mind, in spite of his attempts to block her. Then she saw it, an image imprinted on his soul; a fervor that drove him desperately wild with an elated ardour that he could not control. Lyra bit her own lip and inhaled deeply, fearful of the response her words might trigger. She needed to goad him further for the words to have meaning.

You are a monster; you kill, you feed, what else are you? Lyra communicated defiantly. She sensed the sudden, angry shift in his mood.
I am immortal. I am part of something you cannot comprehend! The anger was rising. You know so little, you think you can challenge me? I could gut you in an instant.
There he is, there’s the monster! Lyra’s mind cried out.
We feed to survive; we kill to survive. Humans kill for greed in the thousands and have done for millennia. Insects you are to me, an insect. His words dug into Lyra’s heart like a knife. She really was nothing but a pet to him; she swallowed down a sob. She knew that he could sense her sadness but fought against him none the less.
I never hurt anyone, but then, how could I? I am a weak insect. Her mind cried painfully. I don’t know why you didn’t just kill me the first night!

Kane recalled the first night; her breathing so peacefully in her sleep; hiding from the world, seeing so much darkness in her art; her mind. So much understanding and isolation. He understood her loneliness, her self-imposed escape from the world of man. He sensed her in a unique way; as if she were crying out for him, and he had tortured and tormented her to gratify himself. Lyra felt the essence of his vision and waited for him to respond; he communicated nothing.
‘You can end this now, Kane,’ she whispered. She heard him pull the machete from the scabbard; her eyes remained fixed on his. ‘Show me your face, Kane!’ she cried desperately. He raised the knife to her throat as she anticipated; her eyes closed and she broke their communication before whispering, ‘Please, Kane, save me.’

The pressure eased, and she heard him sheath the knife. Every sense in her body told her that he had no intention of using it; it was his way of dealing with any threat, but he had no intention of actually hurting her. She kept her eyes closed as he lifted her over his shoulder and carried her back to the cabin. She did not struggle, but kept her eyes closed. Once inside the door he lowered her to the floor, and she waited with her eyes closed, casting her mind back to Harlon’s advice that she submit to him if he revealed himself. She tried to keep Kane from reading her thoughts by bombarding her mind with random images of the forest and lake as a distraction.

Kane looked over Lyra as she stood motionless, shutting him out. Her long lashes covered her doe eyes and he could not sense her mind. Harlon was correct; she was a fast learner. She belonged to him, she was right, that would not change, but her passion for him, that would change if she was disgusted by the sight of him. The woman was persistent, however, and he knew that it would be better to know that she hated him sooner rather than later. Reluctantly he peeled the mask from his face.

Lyra readied herself to see him, told herself not to show any horror at the sight of him and once prepared opened her eyes. The left side of his face, though rough-looking, did not have the deformities of the right side. His teeth were sharp, and his lip slightly cleft. His right eye hung lower and whiter than the left, and his bones were rigid with a weak muscle tone that caused his skin to droop, and long dark hair hung from his head. Lyra took in his image; he appeared as inhuman as he was, but she felt neither repulsion nor hate nor sadness. Her desire for him only seemed to grow stronger; perhaps it was because he was different, she tried not to dwell on her reasons. Her mind flitted to Harlon’s warning; submit. Kane was at his most vulnerable and most exposed. Anything less could trigger his anger, the same anger that had left her so coldly the previous night, an anger that knew no bounds.

The power he held over her was incomprehensible; her stomach plagued with desire as she looked at him. Kane stood motionless, awaiting a response. The usual horrified response was met with instant and violent retribution. He did not want this for Lyra but knew that he could not control the wrath of the beast within. Lyra looked into his eyes and dropped to her knees without any further hesitation.
I am yours, her mind cried out. Kane placed his fingers under her chin, causing her to rise. He then moved his hand to her hair, stroking it away from her face, and lowered his mouth to her lips; she accepted him fully and kissed him with an unbridled passion. Kane pulled her to the sofa and onto his lap, so that she was facing him. Whilst still fully embraced he unbuckled himself and tore her leggings open. Lyra straddled his hardness and took him fully into her.

Desire welled in her belly and she repeatedly drove down on him, their lips still locked. The words almost came to her lips; she wanted to whisper them in his ear, but feared his response, or lack of it. Lyra reasoned that a monster could not love; he could not see her as anything beyond a possession. Her own need soon interrupted her thoughts and the fury forced her on; she could not stop, she needed him, and the feeling only grew as his arms wrapped around her body and his hand cupped her head, bringing her tongue deeper into his mouth. She could feel his urgency, as his legs shook beneath her. Lyra pulled her mouth from his and stared into his eyes, inviting him in, allowing him to feel her every sensation; fully open and exposed she submitted her mind to his.

Lyra’s pulses burned through Kane; he sensed her need of him as her body moved on him. Kane placed two fingers on her temple and entranced her with his gaze; his mind directing her body into an agonisingly pleasurable swoon. Her hands grasped his shoulders and their mouths locked as both viciously peaked.

Kane 25 – Chapter Twenty-Five: Quantum

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-25-chapter-twenty-five-quantum/

Kane held Lyra in her swoon long after she had come. His eyes remained locked on hers, and though he was communicating, Lyra was unable to make the words out; it was as if they were muffled and not meant for her. The words continued and a dark mist shrouded them. The mist grew heavier, forming a dense smog. Unsure as to what was happening, Lyra clung to his shoulders, willing him to keep her safe. She trusted him, just as he had trusted her, and even though she had not said the words that would convey her full emotional sentiment, she sensed that he knew and would protect her at all costs.

As the smog cleared, Lyra sensed a shift; a preternatural movement. Her hands still dug into Kane’s shoulders, but she was dressed, wearing a white shift. Her feet stood on warm, grainy sand, and she could hear the lapping of a sea tide. Kane gently released her fingers from his shoulder. They were no longer by the lake; instead they stood in the midst of palm trees, under the moonlight; both fully dressed, and Kane masked.
How? Lyra wondered.
Only a part of you exists here, Kane projected.
But I can feel, the sensations confused Lyra. I can feel you, the sand, I can smell the sea! Kane placed a hand on her face,
I want to complete you. Lyra sensed movement, a presence. Kane stepped out of her eyeline, and behind him, leaning against one of the palm trees, was the most beautiful woman Lyra had ever beheld; a woman who delighted in exhibiting her curves through a figure-hugging ivory gown, her neck draped with jewels and her long, black hair hanging down to her hips.

‘I have been expecting you,’ the woman said with a thick accent that Lyra could not place. ‘Come,’ she invited, beckoning with her bejewelled forefinger, ‘Follow.’ Dumbfounded, Lyra remained on the spot until Kane took her arm and led her through the trees to a splendid villa decorated with the finest stone. The French windows sat wide open and Lyra stepped into a plush lounge. ‘Sit,’ the woman motioned, and Lyra took a seat on the chaise-longue, still perplexed. ‘Would you like a drink?’ the stranger asked. Lyra nodded and the woman clapped her hands. ‘Bijou,’ she called. A large, black woman dressed in bright colours waddled into the room with three glasses, each containing a scarlet fluid. ‘Thank you, Bijou,’ the woman nodded, taking her glass. Kane and Lyra each took their respective drinks. Lyra recognised the metallic taste immediately and tried not to gulp it down as greedily as she had from Kane’s blade.

‘I am Lilith,’ the woman stated, ‘Apologies, I should have introduced myself sooner.’
‘Harlon mentioned you,’ Lyra muttered. Kane snapped his head at her as if she were talking out of turn.
‘Harlon,’ Lilith repeated, ‘How is the old ghoul?’
‘Fine,’ Lyra replied, still adjusting to the bizarre route that her life seemed to be taking. Lilith cast her eyes over Lyra,
‘A fine choice, Kane.’ Swiftly and elegantly she drifted towards Lyra and lifted the girl’s chin so that she could look into her mind. ‘An empath too,’ Lilith observed wisely, before tilting her head to the side. ‘Twice fed from,’ she observed. Lyra glanced at Kane, but he remained still and upright. Lilith brushed a hand through Lyra’s hair, ‘Do you understand what is being asked of you?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lyra replied honestly, ‘I mean, yes, sort of.’
‘Do you understand the consequences of your choice?’ Lyra thought of debating further about the notion of choice, but sensed that Kane did not approve of that line of questioning.

‘That I would need to drink blood?’ Lilith sighed,
‘Blood, yes. That, child, is the least of the matter. Being immortal means a life in hiding, a life tied to other immortals and apart from the humans.’ Lilith took a sip of her drink, ‘Humans have never liked small differences; my son, for example, they did not approve of his differences.’
‘Did you lose him?’ Lyra asked sympathetically.
‘No, child, I will never lose him. He is as you will be, but many years ago he exhibited differences that were not well received.’ Lilith took another sip, and Lyra did the same, gulping down more fluid than she had anticipated. Lilith smiled at her earnest desire for the life fluid. She was young. ‘You cannot embroil yourself with man; they age and die. You would only suffer loss after loss; you need to detach yourself as a farmer does from his livestock.’ Lyra nodded, understanding the implication fully.

‘There are some humans who are aware of our existence,’ Lilith continued, ‘You may place those humans into two categories; followers and destroyers. Followers support the Immortalis, either through a crude form of worship or through service. Some of those we offer immortality to, but of a different nature.’
‘Like Harlon?’ Lyra interrupted again. Kane turned his head to her and sent a clear message,
Do not speak, listen! Lilith smiled at Kane,
‘Let her speak, how can she understand otherwise?’ She then turned her attention back to the girl, ‘Yes, like Harlon. He will never regain his youth, and he feeds, but he does not kill. It is complicated. The destroyers are humans who have existed for almost as long as I have. They arose in the priests of Amun during the reign of the heretic king.’ Lyra thought back to her liberal studies at college,
‘Akhenaten?’ she interjected, ‘That would make you…’
‘Older than Ramesses, rest his soul!’

‘Who are you?’ Lyra asked in awe of Lilith.
‘Some say I am the first human’s original wife; others would cast me as a vampire, and more as a witch.’ Lilith finished her drink. ‘I am the first Immortalis; cursed by the heavens, and gifted with life, and the ability to pass on the gift of life.’ Lyra’s eyes flitted to Kane; Harlon had stated that Lilith made Kane immortal. How could he choose her over this goddess? ‘He is one of the most powerful beings because I provided him with blood directly from my own veins and arteries. It is a rare gift that I bestow.’
‘Did you?’ Lyra began.
‘No, there was no physical contact. I provided Harlon with the elixir and he fed and trained Kane. Kane was never one for physical contact until he met you. The night he first placed his eyes on you, I sensed a change in him.’ Lyra smiled meekly; her insides warmed with the thought of his affection for her.
‘Was Harlon already the way he is?’
‘For many years; he does not call himself ‘Old Harlon’ without good reason.’ Lilith clapped her hands again, ‘Bijou, thank you,’ she called, and the glasses were quickly refilled.

‘Harlon was ghoul to another Immortalis; Nicolas. Unfortunately, Nicolas was relocated, and Harlon left quite by himself until he pulled Kane from the lake. The boy was an outsider, unwanted by the world, but Harlon cared for him. As he grew in strength he asked for my assistance. Harlon had served me well and taken on Nicolas at my behest; he did not ask for the gift for himself but quite altruistically offered it to another. Such is the purity of his mind.’ Lilith paused and motioned for Lyra to drink. The girl drank obediently. ‘Kane was young, and he adjusted to his new situation quickly. The mind is quite adept at dealing with change when open to it.’ Lilith placed her fingers on Lyra’s temples, ‘Your mind is open because you have only ever known loneliness; you heard too many voices at once, I think, and shut yourself away from the noise. I do not believe that your finding him is a coincidence; I believe that there was a connection that you sensed.’ Lilith moved away from the chaise-longue and perched on a soft chair facing Lyra and partook of her drink.

‘Human empaths seldom hone their abilities; instead they refer to instinct or some such ideology.’ Lyra thought over Lilith’s words; she had deliberately isolated herself until meeting with Kane, and she had adjusted to a terrifying and surreal situation with a strange ease. ‘Harlon will train you to be a hunter, like Kane. The reason, child, is twofold. Firstly, you must be able to kill. You are, of course, aware of that.’ Lilith waited as Lyra absorbed her words. She had been aware but had not thought about the matter, primarily because Kane had been actively killing,
‘Harlon said that the ritual would not be complete until I had made and fed from my first kill,’ Lyra mumbled as she processed the information further.
‘But you have not really accepted that, have you?’ Lilith observed. Lyra shook her head truthfully,
‘No,’ she replied, rubbing her fingers between her eyes thoughtfully.
‘The first time is the most difficult, but you must understand that this is your means of survival, the life being in the blood.’

‘And the second reason?’ Lyra asked, diverting her thoughts away from the kill.
‘The destroyers,’ Lilith replied, ‘Fortunately there are fewer today than one would expect. The world of man is such a hostile place, at war with itself, that traditions and legends have been lost to money and technology.’ She signalled to Lyra to finish her glass, and the girl acquiesced. ‘But they do exist, and they will come,’ Lilith continued, ‘The traditions have been passed on across generations; some have no interest, others break tradition, but there is still a small hard-core element that may pose a threat.’ She clapped her hands, calling for another drink, ‘You have the upper hand as these beings are mere mortals, well-trained and learned in our traditions, but still mortals none the less.’ Bijou furnished Lyra with another glass and Lilith continued, ‘And for that reason you must be prepared and able to defend your territory, as Kane has done for years.’
‘Against trespassers?’ Lyra argued.
‘Yes, against trespassers, but also against the destroyers. One can be easily mistaken for another. We are fair, we warn intruders. We inhabit areas of low population and in such small populations it is easy to facilitate rumour and threat. The people will protect your privacy in order to protect their own safety.’

Lyra thought of the Penroses; they had broken the unwritten rules knowingly, and Kane had executed them accordingly.
‘Harlon said every Immortalis is different?’ Lyra questioned.
‘Every species of animal forms its own range of breeds, and we are no different,’ Lilith confirmed, ‘Each Immortalis develops their own methods and ways, and Immortalis manifests differently in everyone. This is why legends of immortality have both similarities and differences across all cultures.’ Lilith nodded towards Lyra’s glass, and Lyra noted that only her glass had been filled on this serving, before hungrily feeding from it.

‘The final matter is your personal sacrifice.’ Lyra raised an eyebrow curiously.
You are mine, Kane’s mind instructed.
‘He is quite correct; you were chosen by Kane to become his Immortalis. You chose to sacrifice your life to him; therefore, your life is his by the nature of your choice.’
‘Does that mean his life is yours?’ Lyra asked abruptly, trying not to sound jealous. Lilith laughed,
‘No, Kane received Immortalis as a gift, as I told you. There are various methods for passing on the gift; all involve the exchange or consumption of blood, but the rituals vary just as the rituals of worship vary.’ Lilith paused to allow Lyra to finish her drink, ‘Take my worshippers here in Haiti; they attribute my existence to a form of Voodoo as that is their understanding of Immortalis. There are many different cults, each worshipping in their own way, and there are many different rituals according to the nature of the Immortalis carrying out the ritual.’
‘How am I here?’ Lyra asked, ‘How can I be there and here?’

‘In Voodoo they say that the soul has two aspects, the grosbonage and the tibonage, in humans. You are not human. Most matter is empty space, including the light and energy of the soul, but the power of the mind creates a manifestation that you would understand as solid.’ Lyra rubbed her head again. ‘Simply put, the Immortalis can manifest part of the soul away from the body if the will is strong in more than one Immortalis. The more powerful of us can manifest in what appears to be a solid form.’
‘But I am not Immortalis,’ Lyra began.
‘You are changing, but you were summoned according to Kane’s will and mine and your connection to him.’ Lilith watched as the girl rubbed harder. ‘It is a lot to understand; understand that I am eternal and have knowledge that the short life-span of man is unable to comprehend. Call it a spell if you will.’ Lilith smiled, and turned to Kane,
‘Complete the ritual!’ she instructed. ‘She has been well provisioned.’ Lyra furrowed her brow,
‘What do you mean?’
‘You have taken three glasses from my own blood vessels. It will give you strength.’ Lilith again turned to Kane, ‘She is ready.’ Kane rose and paced to Lyra, taking hold of her and locking his eyes on hers. A smog grew about them, exerting a great fatigue on Lyra. Her eyes closed and she sank into darkness.

Kane 26 – Chapter Twenty-Six: The First

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-26-chapter-twenty-six-the-first/

Lyra’s trance abated; her eyes were fixed on Kane’s and she sat firmly on his lap with his hardness still buried deep inside of her; the pulses of his desire ebbed from her like a slow tide. Her eyes blinked and he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her beneath him. He was rigid, his passion unabated. His face looked down on hers, and she drew her hands up to stroke him. To her he was the most attractive, beautiful man that she had ever seen. She was his eternally, but she knew that he was also hers. She kissed his lips, cheeks and eyes, whilst widening her legs for him. Kane took her gently, slowly, making sure that she could feel every sensation. Lyra moaned in response to each excruciating movement. He moved his lips to hers and kissed her softly, then pulled out of her. His hands moved to her top and glided it over her shoulders and head. Her bra was delicately unfastened and discarded, followed by her torn leggings and underwear.

Kane climbed from the bed and took in her doe eyes as they stared lovingly into his. He dropped his scabbard, tool belt and clothes to the floor and kissed her ankles; his mouth ran a line of kisses and licks along the inside of her legs. At her thigh he sank his teeth into her flesh and tasted the trickle of blood that came from the wound, running his tongue along the streak and then glided it upwards to the apex of her sensitivity. Lyra moaned and closed her eyes as he licked her delicately, taking in her aroused aroma. The scent of her excited him, as did the knowledge that he was making her feel like this, his true face and true self. He licked her harder, allowing her taste to engulf his tongue. His mouth moved upwards, kissing and caressing her hardened nipples. She wanted him as he truly was, and he could not get enough of her desire.

His teeth grazed her neck and dug into the bloodletting wound. He caught the fluid in his mouth and hungrily fed as she moaned beneath him. The taste of her blood and lust powered his desire. His rigidity ached and as he moved his mouth to her lips, he forced himself into her. Lyra arched and cried out. Kane bit down on his own lip, delving a sharp tooth into his own mouth, and allowed the blood to flow onto her tongue. Lyra licked at the fluid hungrily, her desire to taste him as overwhelming as her growing lust for blood. Her teeth clasped his lip and she sucked hard. His body dragged against her sensuality painfully. The blood and fire within her welled and grew with a horrific force. Kane responded to her moans by tearing his mouth from hers and biting into his own wrist; allowing the blood to flow freely into her hungry mouth.

Once he was satisfied that she had been well fed, he licked the wound and the bleeding stopped. His mouth smothered hers, as his own desire demanded feeding. He wanted to take her completely; the might of his rigidity and the skill with which he moved enabled him to touch every sensitive part of her at once. Lyra moaned and clung to him, her need driving her on. Once he was sure that she was beyond all control Kane slowed his movements down until they had ceased. Lyra attempted to grind up against him, but he used the strength in his legs to still her body and gripped her arms in his hands, so that she was unable to move.

Give yourself to me, his mind commanded. Lyra’s heavy eyes opened, and her lashes fluttered in her lust and confusion.
‘I did,’ she whispered.
You said you had no choice, give yourself to me willingly, he implored. Lyra’s mouth opened; her swollen lips and scent gave her feelings away. Say that you offer yourself to me, forever, he continued. Promise yourself to me, and that you will obey whatever I ask of you. Whatever I ask! The ache between Lyra’s legs was nowhere near as violent as the pain in her heart. Lyra took Kane’s face timidly in her hands and took a breath; her heart palpitated at the thought of it, but she had made her decision.
‘I give myself to you willingly,’ she trembled as she spoke, ‘I promise myself to you, and my obedience to you and…’ The final words jarred in her throat momentarily; she swallowed nervously, ‘And I am deeply, deeply in love with you.’

Kane’s eyes closed as he relished her words. His hands clasped her thighs, enabling him to drive himself deep inside of her. He drew slightly out, pushing against every sweet spot on her body. Lyra shuddered eagerly beneath him; with each sweep of his body he ensured that her need was met, as well as his own. Her stomach grew taut as her orgasm closed in on her. Kane turned her head to the side and as he felt the beginning of her climax drove his teeth into her throat. Lyra screamed out; a combination of pleasure and a pain that caused the pleasure to blossom.

Kane continued to force himself into her as he fed from her. Overcome with sensation, he released himself fully into her as her blood flowed into his mouth. Lyra’s pulse slowed, and her breathing grew shallow as the blood left her. Her pulse thumped in her brain, drowning out all other sounds; she weakened beneath him. As the pulse all but disappeared, he released and opened the wound in his own wrist, allowing the fluid to fall into her mouth. Lyra swallowed in small gasps until Kane pulled away, sealing the wound with his own saliva. Protectively, he covered her with her duvet and drew her close to him, massaging her spent form until she drifted into sleep. As she did, she whispered the words that she had found so hard to say,
‘Kane, I love you.’

Kane lay awake holding her close. No one had ever loved him, not in that way. He had not only heard but felt her words and knew that there was truth in them. He thought of her lying asleep the first time that he had seen her, how her running from him had proved so arousing, as had her desperate pleas. The sadist in him would have to be satisfied regardless of how he felt for her. He wanted her to beg him and to suffer at his hands. That would not change. He thought of how her scent changed when he had punished her; he now had eternity to watch her suffer, and to watch her enjoying it. His mind plagued him further: what if he seriously hurt her? Could he forgive himself? He knew that the beast inside would not be contained. Then, there was her loyalty; would it extend to his depravities?

Kane stroked Lyra’s hair as she slept. Her baby face looked so innocent, so sweet. He examined the initial that he had carved into her. That would not heal; he had ensured that the branding took place before the change and was cut deep enough to leave a scar in spite of her growing abilities to heal. There were deeper ways to hurt her; she claimed to love him; if she loved him, she would accept him regardless of his proclivities; she had accepted much more. He held her close. No one else would ever hurt her, just him, and just as he chose. She was, after all, his property.

Lyra woke with a start. She was in her own bed in her own cabin. Her duvet was draped across her and she was wearing one of her shifts. Light streamed in through the windows, and she realised that the shutters were open and not as she had left them. Harlon sat on a chair next to her sleepily. Lyra rubbed her eyes and a strange confusion fell on her,
‘Where’s Kane?’ she asked. Harlon gulped nervously.
‘You just rest there, and Old Harlon will make you some stew.’ Lyra ran her hands roughly through her hair,
‘Where’s Kane?’ she asked again.
‘Now look, Missy, you just rest, and Old Harlon be right back from the kitchen, alright?’ Lyra nodded and Harlon hurried to the kitchen to heat up her meal.

Lyra looked about her; the room was tidied and everything in its place. She started to climb out of bed, but a heady dizziness forced her back down.
‘Now, Missy,’ the old man muttered whilst wandering in from the kitchen, ‘Your body, well, it’s goin’ through a lot right now, so you gotta take it easy today and tomorrow. If you feelin’ better, Old Harlon will have you training.’ Lyra raked her hair again, and Harlon sensed her growing agitation; an agitation that he had expected.
‘I want Kane,’ Lyra insisted.
‘You need to eat, keep your strength up.’ Lyra raised her eyes to the ceiling, but the hunger pangs in her stomach forced her to take the meal offered.
‘You met Lilith then?’ Harlon asked. Lyra nodded. ‘You goin’ getting’ used to these changes, don’t you worry.’
‘I want to see Kane,’ Lyra mumbled between mouthfuls, sensing something was amiss.

‘Old Harlon’s gonna teach you to use a knife,’ the old man stated, ignoring her comments. ‘To fight and to fight with a knife and throw a knife.’ Lyra became more agitated as he spoke, slamming the spoon into the bowl with each hungry mouthful. ‘Got to get ya ready for your first now.’ Lyra slammed the spoon down and shoved the bowl at the old man. The dizziness drifted over her again, and she closed her eyes as Harlon wittered away about knives. His voice seemed to get further and further away until she was swimming in blackness again.

Lyra opened her eyes again; the day had disappeared, and the night sky had set in.
‘How ya feelin’ now, Missy?’ Harlon asked, still sitting in the chair beside her. Lyra looked around; she was still in her own cabin and Kane was nowhere to be seen. An emptiness churned Lyra’s stomach. She gripped it to try and ease the pain. ‘Still hungry?’ Harlon asked, ‘Guess you would be, you been out for hours.’ Lyra did not respond, and Harlon served her more food regardless. She ate in a cold, frosty silence, irritated with the old man for ignoring her questions. Once she had finished, she shot the bowl at him and lay back down facing away from him.

After a prolonged and fruitless silence, Lyra spoke again; her tone softer and more subdued,
‘I want Kane, where is he?’ Harlon sighed; he knew that he could not dodge the question forever but hated the thought of seeing the girl that he had developed a sympathy for hurting more than necessary. He sighed deeply,
‘The boy says you’re to stay here and not go near his land.’ Harlon screwed his old face up as he resisted the temptation to feel her pain. He had to follow his instructions exactly so as not to incur Kane’s wrath. The old man swallowed and then continued, ‘He don’t want see you no more, Missy, and that’s how it is.’

Lyra stared vacantly at the wall opposite. Her mind slowly replayed the last few weeks; the move, her hopes, the warnings, the disappearances, the deaths, the imprisonment, the chase, the pain, him, his body, his touch, the strange world in which she found herself, him, his touch. The thoughts swirled and poured onto her cheeks as the tears and sobs flooded from her eyes. She had seen hell, and hell was living without Kane. Nothing else mattered; he had stripped her bare of all morality, all understanding and of her own independence. The pain she had avoided for so long had all been served up in one cruel dish. She had surrendered herself fully, offered her love to him. He had left her broken in the most cruel, sadistic manner; used and broken. Her sobs continued long into the night, until she wore herself out and could cry no more.

Kane 27 – Chapter Twenty-Seven: Seasons

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-27-chapter-twenty-seven-seasons/

‘You don’t aim to hit the target, you aim to hit behind it,’ Harlon instructed, raising a pad. ‘You only hit the target, then you’re just ticklin’ it, ain’t ya? Aim a good foot behind.’ Lyra balled her right hand into a fist. ‘Thumb on the outside,’ the old man corrected, ‘And defend with the other fist; as you strike, pull the defending fist back to your waist and repeat.’ Lyra followed his instructions and started to punch at the pad. ‘Footwork, Missy, wider stance and keep it moving,’ Harlon continued as she moved nimbly in the sand. ‘Now move to a cross punch, change your stance!’

Lyra threw punch after punch at the pad, changing stance and hitting according to Harlon’s positioning.
‘Have you seen him?’ Lyra asked as she attacked the target.
‘The boy can rip a man’s heart out with one punch, straight through the back!’ the old man stated, diverting the conversation.
‘That’s really nice,’ Lyra sniped.
‘Back-fist followed by hook. Keep your wrist turned so you don’t go breakin’ it.’ Lyra twisted her stance to accommodate each punch accordingly.
‘Have you spoken to Kane?’ Lyra insisted.
‘Missy, you be worryin’ ‘bout what you’re doing and not nothin’ else!’ the old man asserted, ‘You promised to obey him, and this is what he says you gotta do, so that’s that.’

Lyra stopped moving and flopped forward, placing her hands on her knees.
‘It hurts, Harlon,’ she whimpered.
‘Guess it does,’ Harlon replied kindly, ‘But you ain’t whole yet, Missy, and that’s what you gotta be worryin’ ‘bout.’
‘What’s the point?’ Lyra snapped painfully.
‘Old Harlon seen a lot, Missy, and one thing Old Harlon knows is no one can depend on no one, so you gotta start fightin’ back.’ Observing the sadness in her face, he added, ‘You can do this, Lyra, I’m here for you.’ Lyra smiled; it was the first time that Harlon had called her by her name.
‘OK, let’s go,’ she puffed, and resumed her reign of angry blows.

‘Lift your knee, bend and then flick.’ Lyra kicked at the lowered pad. Harlon raised the pad to his side, ‘Turn to a ninety-degree stance and flick from the knee for the side kick.’ Lyra followed his instructions perfectly. ‘Now I’m gonna move and change the pad; you use your punches, back-fists and kicks to attack.’ Lyra moved with stealth, throwing the full force of her pain into the practice. Day turned to night, and night turned to day as she continued her regime of fighting and shooting arrows. Harlon replaced the bow with a crossbow, and then a harpoon. Each night he stayed with her, watching over her as instructed by Kane. She ate the stew without hesitation, and adhered to every instruction with an intense vigour, but the nights were lonely. Lyra wept to herself as the loneliness engulfed her; this was not self-imposed isolation, this was a hideous emptiness that she could neither overcome nor change. The days turned into weeks, and Lyra’s skills improved exponentially.

Early one morning, as harvest crept into winter, Harlon woke Lyra early, thudding through her room with a bag,
‘Your clothes, Missy, just ain’t suitable. Damp shoes and thin leggings, no good for out here.’ Lyra clambered out of bed in her shift; her body well-toned from the training. ‘Old Harlon got you some things to try, so first we got a good set of trousers.’ Lyra took the garments and pulled them on. The denim clung to her thighs, accentuating her curves. ‘Boots better than them there sneakers.’ Harlon handed her what appeared to be a strong pair of black riding boots and she slipped them on. ‘And a leather jacket, keep you warm and dry. Hard-wearin’ too.’

‘Old Harlon made you somethin’ special,’ he continued, removing a black, leather scabbard from the bag and strapping it to her leg, ‘Because it’s time to learn the knife, ain’t it?’ He drew a sharpened machete from the bag and handed it to her. ‘Old Harlon looks after your clothes from now on!’ he stated assertively, handing the woman the knife. She looked over the blade and her thoughts turned to Kane. Lyra closed her eyes and imagined him chasing her through the woods, and how he had saved her, driving the knife into the bark. She thought of the monster, her love, running his blade across her naked flesh and inadvertently shuddered. It had been so long since she had seen him, and each day the pain worsened, and the isolation grew as bitter as the coldness outside; the coldness of his wilderness. Knowing that Kane was so close, and yet inaccessible to her, only made the pain worse. She wanted to see him, if only from a distance.

‘Hold the hilt, but not too tightly, and twist the knife in your hand,’ Harlon instructed as they stood under the trees in the icy weather. Lyra twisted and turned the hilt between her fingers. ‘It’s an extension of your fist, nothin’ more,’ Harlon explained as Lyra scanned the forest looking for signs of the creature. ‘You payin’ me any heed at all, Missy?’
‘I’m listening,’ Lyra lied. She had tried many times to communicate with Kane using her mind, but he had closed himself off to her completely. Her senses had attuned well enough to enable her to perceive his presence and movement in the forest. All efforts to communicate, however, had failed.
‘Now, over your head and twist, you need to feel confident with moving it about in your hand!’ Lyra obeyed, but her attention flitted back to his realm of the forest; she would hunt him as he had hunted her. Her temper rose and she flipped the blade furiously. ‘Run and hit the mark!’ Harlon shouted, sensing her growing strength. Lyra ran angrily towards the tree and twisted the blade, belting it into the mark. ‘Again!’ Harlon coaxed, and Lyra retrieved the blade only to hurl it into the tree a second time. ‘Aim through the mark like your punches,’ the old man shouted excitedly.

‘I’ve set up targets through this neck of the woods and lake,’ Harlon explained, loading the quiver onto Lyra’s back. ‘You take out every target at speed, but you can’t be seen.’
‘Seen by who?’ Lyra asked hopefully.
‘By Old Harlon, I got eyes and I can move when I want to.’ Lyra sighed, reminiscing over Kane chasing her through the woods. She wished he could be hunting her again. Lyra placed the machete in the scabbard and waited.
‘Five targets altogether, can be anywhere. I give you half a minute, then I come looking.’ Harlon glared down at his watch and raised an eyebrow at Lyra, indicating that it was time, and closed his wrinkled eyelids.

Lyra ran softly across the sand, placing audio distance between herself and Harlon; she then dashed into the woods and climbed the first tree with an inhuman ability. Using the branches, she leapt silently from one canopy to another, checking her area continually. Her sharp eyes searched the bark for targets, and she shifted repeatedly, away from the old man’s light footsteps. Spying her first target, she looped her leg about a branch and swung upside down, taking the target out with one arrow. Her body dropped at the perimeter of Kane’s land and she spotted a mark free-standing in the treeline. Her agile body darted towards the mark and the machete was drawn and swung with perfect direction.

The machete was quickly replaced. Lyra sensed that there was a mark on the raft. She slunk down to the lake and dropped herself beneath the surface before travelling like a torpedo to the raft. Her open eyes spotted the mark between the wooden planks, and she drove the machete upwards, so that she remained immersed. Swiftly she returned to the shore and waited to hear the old man’s footsteps before rising and heading away from him. Nimbly, she dashed from tree to tree until the fifth target came into view and she destroyed it with one clean shot. Checking her perimeter first, she swung back up into the treetops and travelled back in the direction of her cabin. Harlon had been unable to track her; she hoped that she could evade him long enough to reach Kane and planned on putting it to the test under nightfall. The final target fell under Lyra’s knife at the cabin, and she called for Harlon.

‘Old Harlon thinks you’re ready,’ the old man praised.
‘Ready?’ Lyra asked, her mind still consumed with thoughts of Kane.
‘Ready to makes your first kill.’ Lyra frowned; she still did not know if she had the ability to kill. ‘Trick is to remember you’re ain’t human, and you ain’t gonna do well without it,’ Harlon reassured.
‘Who do I kill?’ Lyra asked, assuming that Kane would beat her to the kill with any intruder.
‘Makes it easy the first time, Nicolas, he gives the kill to me and I let him go here,’ Harlon muttered. Lyra recalled Lilith’s story about Nicolas being Harlon’s Immortalis before Kane. Lyra wondered if all Immortalis left their ghoul, and if Kane would leave too. ‘Now, Missy, Nicolas, he don’t just give Old Harlon anyone, he gives criminals to make it easier for ya.’ Lyra decided against asking how either the criminals or their detailed history was obtained. She had heard enough bizarre tales and seen enough brutality to not want to know. ‘Tomorrow night’s the night, so you go get some rest, Missy, and Old Harlon, he go get some stew for ya,’ the old man stated, wandering off up the trail.

The ease of his exit made Lyra suspicious; perhaps the old man read her thoughts and knew of her plan or perhaps he just trusted her. Lyra furrowed her brow and raced into the treeline to follow the old man’s movements. It soon became clear that he was indeed going back to his own cabin, and Lyra darted through the treeline to the end of the trail and climbed into the trees, moving from branch to branch until she entered Kane’s land. There were no movements in the forest, not movements that could be attributed to Kane anyway; just the sway of trees in the wind and the scurrying of small, nocturnal animals. Lyra dropped from the canopy and moved nimbly to Kane’s cabin. There were lights inside, but she would draw him out.

Kane stared out into the wilderness; as quiet as she was, he could sense her presence. She had defied him, failing his malicious test of obedience. One of the bells rang in the basement; the clever girl was trying to lure him out. Kane waited. Another bell rang, and then all went silent. With a sudden thump the back door banged. Kane raced through the cabin to the back door to find that there was no one there. He strode furiously to the front of the cabin; the front door stood agape. Fury grew; she had defied him and was now taunting him. He drew his machete with an almighty clinkink and raised it, before flicking his own switch to off. The forest sank into a bleak, cold darkness.

Lyra watched from a high branch as Kane strode into the forest with the machete slinging from his hand. She glided from tree to tree, gazing at him intermittently through the branches. One canopy after another, until he failed to manifest. Lyra leaned into the bark and scanned the forest floor. She moved from tree to tree, checking the nook of each trunk, but was unable to find him. Her hand caught hold of a branch and she swung underneath and dropped silently to the ground. Her hand reached into the quiver and pulled a selection of arrows out and shot one after another around the woodland, forming an aggressive arc. In the distance she heard the crack of a branch; she had seen Kane confuse and frighten his victims using the same tactic. Lyra crouched in the shelter of a tree and waited.

Kane 28 – Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Challenge

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-28-chapter-twenty-eight-the-challenge/

Kane listened; Lyra was still and hidden. Her scent so enthralled him and overpowered him that he could sense her direction just from her aroma. He moved from tree to tree until he located a tunnel hatch and dropped into the tunnels that he had meticulously designed. Kane marched hastily in Lyra’s direction and emerged within some well-placed bushes out of her line of sight. Immediately he spotted her curled in the trunk of a tree, lying in wait.

Lyra felt Kane as he moved towards her. She had missed his presence so much that her senses attuned to any sign of him. She felt him drop under the ground and guessed that he was using the tunnels to outsmart her. Lyra unloaded the quiver as he moved underground, pulled off her jacket and hung it from a branch. She replaced the quiver and stood behind the hanging jacket. She checked her perimeter for an escape route and waited. He was watching her; she felt the heaviness of his stare boring into her. Her lip quivered with the memory of his touch.

Kane moved under the shadows of the trees until he was within reach of her. His hand darted towards her throat, and she slipped nimbly out of his vision, leaving his hand grasping at her jacket. Stealthily she flew up the tree and hung in the branches. Kane looked up at her and for the first time in so long their wily eyes locked in the darkness.
Lyra, come to me, Kane ordered, opening his mind to her at last.
‘I don’t think so,’ Lyra called from the branch, then darted into the canopy and disappeared.
Lyra, come to me, Kane commanded a second time. She had so longed to hear him, but this was a trap, and the fury in her wanted to trap him.

Kane, come to me, she communicated from her hiding place. Beneath her the creature strode angrily from tree to tree, kicking furiously at fallen branches. Can’t you see me, Kane? she taunted. Instantly Kane stopped walking and snapped his head up, looking directly at her.
I have been here many years, witch, his mind shouted. Lyra changed direction and leaped from tree to tree rapidly until reaching the beach. She dropped her body into the sand and immersed herself under the water. Her body jettisoned towards the raft; she swam underneath and raised her head slightly, looking up at the raft.

He was there already, standing tall and proud, waiting for her. His gaze focused on her face, and she dropped back under the water, swimming furiously back to shore. Kane waited for her at the water’s edge; Lyra clambered from the lake and backed away from him. Kane stepped towards her; his machete sheathed. Lyra glanced down at it, and instantly drew hers, directing the blade at his heart.
You promised to obey, Kane reminded her callously.
‘There’s nothing to obey,’ Lyra snapped angrily, ‘You’re not there anymore, you’re gone, you’re nothing to me.’
You failed, Kane retorted spitefully, I tested your obedience, and you failed.
‘Obedience to what?’ Lyra shouted as the sky darkened and rain poured from the clouds. ‘To be used and thrown away?’
Obedience, patience, Kane replied.

Lyra ignored his words and twisted the machete whilst advancing on the creature.
Do you really think you can harm me? Kane goaded. I am Immortalis, you are not. Ignoring his words, Lyra pressed the blade into his chest.
‘I may not be able to kill you, but I can hurt you,’ she cried, her words springing from a broken heart. She could not shut Kane out of her mind and sensed that he thrived on her pain. Kane spread his arms,
Strike me down then, bitch, his mind coaxed. You will be punished for your defiance. Lyra narrowed her eyes as her stomach raged. She stepped back and raised the machete above her head.

In an instant Kane stepped into her arms and twisted her wrist, forcing her to drop the weapon. Still in his grip, Lyra tipped her chin up towards him defiantly and grimaced,
‘There’s nothing more you can do to me!’ Kane tilted his head, indicating that she was incorrect. Her scent filled him. His hand spitefully grasping her wrist induced a longing need in her. Kane felt her growing urge and shook her hand free. Mustering all of his willpower, he turned his back to her and started to walk away. Lyra seethed, infuriated by his rejection of her, and drew her bow and arrow; before she could change her mind, she released a shot that hit Kane’s shoulder. The monster’s movements ceased. A thick, gloved hand reached over his shoulder and pulled the dart out. Kane turned slowly to face her; his breathing had deepened with wrath. Lyra reached for her machete and held it up to protect herself. The monster withdrew his own knife and strode towards her, using the blade to slice Lyra’s arm with enough power to force her to drop the weapon again.

Kane peeled off his mask and stared at the woman, his evil eyes twisted with malice. He grabbed her neck and forced her into the sand. Lyra started to rise, but he held her down with one hand whilst the other unbuckled his scabbard and yanked her trousers down, forcing her face into the wet sand. The first belt bit into her skin; Lyra winced, but the familiar feeling of pleasure trickled through her. As the second strike landed, she gasped, and her body relaxed under his cruel hand. Kane breathed in her desire and struck her again and again. He could smell her growing need and found his own body responding vigorously. He turned her on her back and swept the sand from her face.

Grains scratched Lyra’s skin and the graze smarted under the cold breeze. She raised a hand to wipe away any remnants left that clawed into her face. In the distance an owl’s hoot cried out from the darkness. Kane fixed his eyes on Lyra’s as she struggled to pull her trousers back up. Her heart jumped into her throat; it had been a deathly age since he had touched her, his brutal strikes were welcomed by the warmth within her belly. The monster waited until his woman stilled and gripped her tightly by the throat. Lyra did not fight him; her head tilted back, exposing more of her flesh to his cruel hand. In response he exerted a greater force. Lyra did not break their mutual stare but held fast, daring him to continue. Kane’s heavily booted foot exerted pressure in the sand as he raised himself to full height, carrying Lyra with him. The arrow’s mark throbbed, as did her defiance, and the arrogance with which she had attempted to overpower him.

Kane raised the woman higher, so that her legs hung inches above the sand. The pressure on her neck thickened, causing her throat to jerk. She swallowed with difficulty. He delighted in hurting her; it thrilled him and secretly it thrilled her. Yet, there was a determination in her soul, stemming from the hurt he had caused her, to fight back and break her promise. She raised her right knee into a bend and kicked with a ferocious strength, aiming for an invisible mark behind him. The blow sent Kane staggering backwards, but he did not fall nor did he release her. Her throat rocked as he staggered, and the pressure tightened and loosened, jarring her gulps.

Her hands clawed at his in an attempt to remove the talons that dug into her neck. Again, she kicked at him,
‘You’re hurting me, Kane,’ the words came hoarsely from her throat. Lyra thought quickly and added, ‘But you like that, don’t you? You sick bastard.’ ‘Bastard,’ the term was so true, abandoned by one parent, orphaned by the other. The creature soon regained his composure and snapped his neck wild with fury at her words. The woman noted the change in his disposition; it reflected the hurt that he had caused her for so long. ‘And you’re a fool,’ Lyra laughed, ‘To think I had any kind of feeling for you!’ Her airways opened as his fist loosened, ‘You’re nothing but a sick, sadistic bastard!’ Another blow of her tongue lashed Kane’s soul; the anger manifesting as a violent shake that quaked through his body.

‘I knew what you were,’ Lyra lied, shutting him out of her mind, ‘And I wanted the same, nothing more.’ Kane reached for the hilt of his machete, forgetting that he had discarded the scabbard. ‘More threats, Kane?’ she asked, scanning the sand for his discarded weapon. ‘For your own gratification?’ The woman stopped and waited to see if he would respond, but he did not. Her only sense of him was the anger shaking through his entire being. ‘That’s all I am, isn’t it? Prey to some monster? The bloodlust was never enough, was it?’ Lyra squinted in the moonlight, trying to gauge a reaction; she tried to convince herself that she witnessed a momentary flicker of sorrow. ‘And,’ she continued, her heartlessness driven from a plethora of suffering at his hands, ‘When I am whole, I am leaving, forever.’ Kane tilted his head as if he could not believe or comprehend her. ‘Leaving, Kane, I am leaving Maple Lake to rid myself of you.’ Little by little the creature’s grip loosened until Lyra’s feet squelched into the wet sand.

Motionless, he looked through her. ‘Perhaps I will find someone to spend eternity with,’ the woman snapped, stepping up towards Kane’s face. The creature stepped backwards, but she closed the gap between them without hesitation. A numbness caught her fingertips, haunted by her own cruel words, but the pent-up emotion of her struggles and his rejection of her had formed a demon within that would not be suppressed. ‘Lust, that’s all you know; lust of one form or another.’ Kane stepped out of her way and turned his back to her. He strode to his scabbard and machete and lifted them from the sand, brushing them off, but not offering any response. Lyra hurried behind him and her rant continued, ‘And you cannot love, you will never love anything because you’re a heartless, soulless thing.’

Kane replaced his mask, secured the leather strap about his leg and waist and sheathed his weapon, then turned to face the woman. Lyra’s machete lay in the sand at her feet. The monster eyed it, but did not act to take it from her; instead he coldly communicated,
Never leave your weapon discarded, unless you wish it to be used on you! Lyra pursed her lips and snatched the knife from the sand; she took the hilt in between her fingers and thumb and twisted it wildly. The owl hooted again as the rain eased. Lyra’s stomach knotted; she missed him, she loved him, and she hated him all in one cocktail of boiling emotion.
‘Have you nothing else to say?’ Lyra shouted, ‘Nothing at all?’
Your training has been successful, the creature returned coldly. Lyra drew in a frustrated lungful of air and gritted her teeth.
‘Fuck the training,’ she whispered, ‘Fuck all of this.’ She twisted the weapon again and flexed it over her head with a swing that stopped short of Kane’s throat, ‘And fuck you,’ she muttered.

Lyra made a cutting motion across Kane’s neck; the monster remained motionless, unmoved and nonchalant. His empty eyes focused firmly on hers. The woman lowered the weapon and hurled it away from her. The machete spun through the crisp air and landed in the dark waters of the lake, leaving ripples in its wake as it sank to the bottom. ‘I don’t need you or anyone else, never have,’ Lyra cried. ‘I can kill on my own.’ Kane tilted his head; the first kill was the hardest, and she had been horrified by his kills, so her words seemed doubtful and he did not react.
‘I’m leaving,’ Lyra repeated, and when a response was not forthcoming, added, ‘I could not love a creature as ugly on the inside as it is on the outside any…’ Before the last word had left her mouth, Kane swept back his hand and brought it hard across her face, sending her tumbling across the sand as the beast within surfaced, unhindered.

Kane 29 – Chapter Twenty-Nine: No Where to Run

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-29-chapter-twenty-nine-no-where-to-run/

Lyra’s face burned; a combination of crushed pride and the soreness of the blow that she had received. Her eyes blurred as her brain dizzied. She forced herself up on her elbow and rubbed her throbbing cheek, trying to readjust her sight. Her head thrummed, yet she could hear Kane’s heavy, angry footsteps marching across the sand. The woman blinked and stroked her eyelids, blinked again and coughed. Her throat splintered with dryness from both her shouting and from Kane choking her.

Kane stopped at her feet; Lyra steadied herself by placing her free hand in the damp sand. She raised her body and turned to face him. Kane’s chest heaved with fury; the demon within had been fully unleashed and had not been satisfied. The monster caught her roughly by the ankle and began to drag her flailing body through the sand. Lyra thought quickly; she would try to calm him,
‘Kane, please let me go.’ There was no response; he did not even stop. Instead he yanked her roughly and dragged her up the dunes and over the porch of her own cabin. Lyra tried to crook her neck to avoid hitting her head on the wood, but the impact on her back caused her head to drop back down.

The cabin shuddered as the door was thrown open and slammed against the log wall. The monster dragged her to the centre of the floor and slammed the door shut behind her, bolting it. Lyra, still dizzy, crawled along the wooden boards away from the creature. Kane watched her struggle with a morbid satisfaction,
Where are you going to go? he taunted.
‘I told you, I am leaving. I’m leaving this place, this sick life, and I am definitely leaving you.’ Lyra bit back. The immortal blood in her veins expedited the easing of the pain, and the dizziness subsided with equal zest.

Lyra clambered to her feet and sprinted to the trapdoor. Kane waited motionless. Lyra pulled at the handle, nothing. She pulled harder, still the door did not move. With a cry of frustration, she rushed to the back door; the bolts had been secured with large, rusty padlocks. The shutters, she thought, the shutters were open. She dashed into her studio, half tripping over the corner of the table. She steadied herself, but as she did the shutters banged closed from the outside. Assuming it was the wind, Lyra pressed against them until her hands were raw. Finally, she relented and took off towards the bedroom, swinging around the door frame as she did. The shutters again slammed on her. Lyra listened; there was movement outside. A lock clicked.
‘Harlon, you miserable old bastard!’ she screamed, thumping at the wood until splinters spiked into her knuckles.

Lyra hurried out of the bedroom and into the front room; the shutters were already closed and being locked.
‘You can’t keep me here!’ she screamed at Kane. He was unmoved. Lyra’s eyes caught sight of the bolt on the front door; there was no padlock, just the huge deadbolt that Harlon had installed. Lyra took a run at Kane, but he caught her with ease, curving his arm around her waist.
There is nowhere for you to go, he informed her with an icy calm.
‘I’m not staying here, I could go anywhere, anywhere in the world,’ Lyra barked snidely, her lip curled with a painful contempt, ‘Away from you,’ she added. The words stuck in her own throat as she spoke. She had been away from Kane for so long, and suffered the daily emptiness triggered by his absence. That emptiness had mutated into a pain that she had released as an unbound, spite-filled fury.

Kane shoved her, so that she stood in front of him. His fingers exerted pressure on each temple as he read her thoughts; such an exquisite mixture of pain and confusion. His left eye twitched as he engulfed himself fully in the delight of her torment. As to whether she was being honest with regard to her desire to leave, he could not tell, such was the depth and confusion exhibited. None the less, he would not permit her departure. She was not in the world of men anymore and would be vulnerable alone as she was so fresh and new to his world.
You will not be leaving, Kane asserted. Lyra stepped slightly forward, but not as close to his face as she had dared. Even though her new body healed quickly she had no desire to suffer another blow.
‘I will do as I please!’ she exclaimed mechanically with a haughty air, whilst flicking her head so that her blond locks moved away from her eyes.

You lied to me, Kane continued, ignoring her attitude. One betrayal after another. Lyra bit her lip irritably until she drew blood,
‘No,’ she replied at length, ‘No, I did not!’
I forgave you for trying to thwart my kills, but you lied; you lied about obeying me, you lied about your own emotions. Kane paused. Now, I have heard your true feelings. Lyra thought back over her hurtful divulgences on the beach. If you hate me so and despise my face, then you have freely entered your own personal hell.
‘Hell?’ Lyra repeated.
Hell, Kane asserted, placing his hands on her shoulders, looking upon this repugnant face for eternity. As his thoughts filled her, he removed the mask and threw it aside. Eternity, he reiterated.
‘Eternity? You haven’t wanted me near you, and now I have to look at you for eternity.’ Lyra huffed, shaking her head. ‘I can’t cope with anymore!’
I tested you, Kane responded, grasping her shoulders tighter. I tested your obedience, his fingers glided from her shoulders to her neck, but I saw your love.
‘No,’ Lyra barked, ‘You saw someone alone, confused and hurt, that’s what you saw.’ She took a courageous breath and lowered her tone to a whisper, ‘Because you don’t know what love is.’

You lie, again, Kane observed. About a great many things!
‘Such as?’ Lyra muttered defensively.
I don’t think you want to leave, Kane ventured.
‘I’m better off alone, I cope better. I can shut out the world and live in solitude, like I always have. Am I lying?’ she asked, opening her mind to the creature. Kane shook his head, and the hint of sorrow returned to his eyes. ‘And,’ she perked up, ‘I don’t want to live in hell.’ Kane’s hands instantly sprang to his own face. She did not want to live in hell, seeing his hideous form day after day.

Lyra squinted curiously and realised at once that Kane had misinterpreted her meaning. Her hell was being alone, rejected and set aside. It was quite one thing to live in isolation, but quite another to be physically loved and then discarded. Hurt still consumed her, and she decided to let him believe she hated him, for then he might free her, and she could live alone; apart from the danger of rejection. Kane glanced down at the mask on the floor; he thought of Brian’s reaction to his appearance and curled his lip, sneering at the woman; the woman who he thought had been his woman. He moved his head, so that his face was as close to hers as possible without touching,
You’re right, Lyra, so right! A malicious intonation hung in the air, making the woman uncomfortable enough to respond as he had anticipated.

‘Right about what?’ Lyra whispered meekly, after some hesitation.
I am a sadist; the kill is more than survival; it is a hunt and the degradation of watching the prey beg for its life. Lyra tried to back away from the creature, but he dug his sharp talons into her neck, holding her brutally in place. For years I indulged in the hapless begging of young women as they fell by my hand. Punished those who found me abhorrent. Fed on their blood and flesh with great rapture, but my own flesh needed more. Lyra tried to drop her chin and escape his eyeline; his nails bit deeper into her skin. Then, I found you. An ideal victim; alone, dark, hiding away from the world of man. Lyra gulped nervously; he had manipulated her from the start, and she had allowed a monster to manipulate her so cruelly. You serve the needs of my flesh that killing does not, nothing more.
‘Why send me away then?’ Lyra whispered.
There are many ways to watch you suffer, Kane viciously responded, and there will be many more ways, and I have eternity to use you.

She had been correct; he was unable to love. Her blood slowed and thickened as the razor’s edge of his soul sliced into hers.
‘You have lost already, Kane,’ she asserted. The monster tilted his head but did not break eye contact. ‘I don’t love you; you can do whatever you want to do to me, but I will never be your victim.’
You promised yourself to me, that was the price of your immortality. Lyra allowed her body to go limp, so that securing her would prove more difficult.
‘I did, when I thought I loved you, and now I am breaking that promise…’
I don’t believe you! Kane released her throat and Lyra took a step back. I can prove your lies.

‘It doesn’t matter either way,’ Lyra muttered despondently, moving further away from him. ‘If you want me to stay against my will, I shall, but you will always know that I don’t want you.’ Lyra turned her back to him and proceeded to leave the front room, heading into her bedroom to be alone. ‘And that will be your private hell.’ Once in her room, Lyra slammed the door unnecessarily hard as if to make her point. She slumped down on the edge of the bed and unzipped her boots before peeling them off and dropping them to the floor. Her scabbard was loosened, and her trousers dropped in a heap, followed by her shirt. The darkness of the room was heightened by the closed and locked shutters. Lyra crawled under her duvet and sobbed, unsure as to whether it hurt more to be with him, or without him. Either way she truly was alone and unloved; an object of lust for an immortal titan, nothing more.

Lyra’s legs curled up under her, and she brought the corner of the duvet to her mouth as a form of comfort. In the next room she could hear Kane moving about. Her eyes closed. Sleep started to fall over her when the door opened with a thump. Lyra remained curled up; with a crack the door was slammed shut.
I can prove your lies, Kane reiterated. The woman did not answer; her fingers looped about the duvet, and she placed a wisp of fabric in her mouth. The clink of the machete being drawn rang across the room; it flew past her head and burrowed itself into the floorboards on the other side of the bed. Your body will tell me how you feel, and you cannot fight that. Lyra remained still and curled in her ball.

You are wrong, Lyra, I can take so much from you, and make you want more. Her lip swelled, and she bit hard into the duvet, hoping to control her own urges and anxiety. You forget so quickly, you enjoy my punishments as much as I. Lyra’s face burned with shame. You can never shut me out completely, my blood flows through you. Blood you so easily, and pleasurably took. In the darkness Lyra could feel her cheeks reddening, and her legs pressed together in a poor attempt to try and quell the growing ache. She could attack him physically or verbally, she could be as spiteful as she wanted, but her true feelings would always be betrayed by her own body. Shall we find the truth now? the monster taunted; shall we see if this halfling girl can hide herself away from an Immortalis?

Kane 30 – Chapter Thirty: Proof

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-30-chapter-thirty-proof/

Are you ready, Lyra? Kane communicated with a wickedness. The woman did not answer, fearing he would hear her stifled sobs. Ready to prove how you truly feel? His hands ran along her toes, his touch instantly awakening her most primal urges. Lyra brought her thumb to her mouth and bit into it to quell her response. He trailed his fingers up her ankle, under the duvet, as he moved heavily around the bedframe. Shall I show you what a disobedient little liar you are? His talons scratched the surface of her shins, and he drew them up to her knees and caressed the joint, perching himself on the bed next to her. You didn’t want to be my pet, did you? He taunted as his nails clawed at her inner thigh. Lyra bit down again. You don’t want me, am I correct? He teased again, whilst easing the duvet down as his fingers worked their way higher. Lyra stifled a shudder as Kane’s thumb circled her nipple, causing it to harden. I am as ugly inside as I am on the outside, remember? Lyra softly removed her thumb and bit down on her own lip. Her eyelids grew heavy and she desperately tried to hide her deepening breaths. I am in my own hell, well, my sweet, this does not feel like hell to me. Kane stroked from her nipple to her neck and back again, carefully uncurling her body with a little extra force as he did.

I am a sadist, no one could want this, could they? Lyra allowed her eyelids to drop, hoping that she would be able to shut him out. He turned her head away from him and allowed his lips to tenderly glide up and down her exposed skin. You will find another man to spend eternity with, isn’t that so? He echoed as his mouth moved to her cheeks and his hand brushed over her sex. Lyra bit her lip harder, stifling her moans with the taste of blood. Kane nuzzled his mouth across her head and down her other cheek, turning her face back to his. Any other man touches you, and his suffering will be unbearable. He brushed his mouth over hers and licked at the blood trickling from her lips. And so will yours. Lyra loosened her jaw, fighting with her own desire to respond.

His hand stroked over her sex, promising to fulfil her. I am a heartless thing, he continued as his hand encircled her sensitivity. Night after night she had waited for his touch, lonely and frustrated. The waiting hurt, and the hurt had been unbearable. Responding to him after all of the torment and pain would be taken as an act of surrender and defeat. She tried to distract herself with thoughts of her training, but each time her thoughts returned to Kane and how empty her time without him had been. You don’t want me, Kane repeated as his tongue flicked down her neck to her breasts. Lyra’s stomach muscles tightened in response, though the determination to keep still remained. You don’t need me. He took her breast into his mouth and hooked a thumb around her clit. But I need you, Lyra. I need to feed my lust for your flesh, the monster’s prey. He lowered his middle finger so that it just touched the inside of her. Lyra swallowed a moan, hoping that he did not notice.

You can shut me out, can’t you? Kane pushed his finger slightly further inside and rubbed at her opening. Tell me how you don’t want me, tell me now and I will stop. Lyra pursed her lips as the rhythm of his hand increased.
‘I don’t,’ Lyra began, but could not continue without releasing a moan, so quietened herself and clenched her jaw.
I disagree, I think you do. He released her breast but continued to work her sex. The clink of the scabbard buckle rang out, followed by the slither of the leather against his trousers. Kane gently lifted his fingers and tightened the buckle at the top of her thigh. The loose strap of leather was pulled tightly up against her sensitive spot. Kane snapped the leather in his hands and brushed it against her. The leather tightened again, sending waves through her belly. Lyra let out an inadvertent sigh. Her sex pulsated, and she knew that he could feel it.

Releasing the strap, Kane brought his mouth to her clit and encircled it with his tongue. I can taste your lies. He encircled it again and then ran his lips along her belly to her breasts, leaving her sex unattended. A rush of emptiness filled Lyra’s belly. Her lip trembled and she bit down again. Why fight it? Kane coerced, bringing his lips back to her throat and returning his hand to her sex. How many strokes will it take to make your body betray you? His mouth brushed back to Lyra’s lips as she fought the powerful surge growing inside of her. Your body betrays you; your scent, your wetness. His mouth opened against hers, taking her lips with it. His tongue touched hers and licked it gently. Beg me to take you, and I will. His hand deliberately steadied, lightening the aching pressure between her legs. Beg me, Lyra. I will take away all your pain, all your confusion. Lyra opened her eyes and was just about able to make out the contours of his face from the front room light that glowed under the door.

Kane ran sharp talons up her neck and worked her wetness softly, deliberately preventing her orgasm. Beg this heartless, soulless monster to take you, his thoughts commanded. Lyra held herself steady, refusing to speak or respond to his kiss. So disobedient, Kane observed as his rigidity grew and throbbed at her defiance. And yet so eager. He released Lyra’s lips and body. Disobedience must be punished. The creature unbuckled his scabbard from her leg and raised it in the dark, cracking the leather across her thigh. Lyra gasped as the strap etched into her flesh. The leather struck the same spot with a caustic lash. Lyra cried out and her body went rigid in response to the burning sensation.

Kane eased the leather strap over her sex and her body. Perhaps you would like something a little more persuasive, he threatened, dropping the scabbard to the floor and drawing his knife from the boards. The cold steel caressed her belly and breasts. In the darkness, Kane’s astute eyes noted the flutter of her eyelids and the swelling of her lips. Isn’t this how you did it? He taunted, drawing the blade across her throat just close enough to graze it. The blade then slammed furiously into the wall behind the headboard. His mouth fell over hers, and he released himself from his clothing. Furious hands gripped her thighs and wrenched her legs apart. The monster climbed between them, stroking her clit with his hardness. Lyra’s resistance fell, her nonchalance collapsed as he moved himself to her entrance.

Beg me, my beautiful little liar and I will take all of your pain away. Lyra arched her back so that her sex pressed against him. She had longed for this; under all of the pain, she had ached for him. He had brought her so close to peaking already. To deny her responses was futile. Beg this monster, show what you are. He edged slightly inside of her. The pressure pulsated through her body, and Lyra shook with need. Her teeth bit into her lip, then with eyes closed in total defeat she whispered,
‘Please, Kane.’ His hardness filled her before she had finished the words that excited him so desperately. His weight dropped over her body, and his lips smothered hers. Lyra wrapped her legs about him, and he lifted her so that she sat in his lap, her legs clinging about his waist. His hands grabbed her hips and he pulled her against him.

Lyra could no longer quell her moans and cried out as she rode his hardness. The flame that had been burning for so long without being sated grew into a fire that raged through Kane. He had waited for her to prove her love for him, to come to him, and admired her attempts to obey him in spite of her own feelings. Lyra’s muscles tensed ecstatically, and she leaned backwards, allowing him to pull her onto his need. Kane wanted to take her, fill her with his revenge and subdue her fire. The contours of her body writhed in the darkness. He released her hips, allowing her to fall into the mattress. Still inside of her, he lowered himself onto her and pressed his body back into hers.

Her legs still clung to him, and her need beat against her belly. She moaned again as his lips crushed hers, and she responded, holding his head and driving her tongue into his mouth as he drove himself into her. Lyra panted furiously as the pleasure violently escalated and her sex clenched against his throbs. Her jaw clenched with the agony of ecstasy. Kane slowed his pace, forcing the length of his shaft against her clit and then filling her completely. Her fingers grasped his neck.
‘Kane, I’m going to come for you,’ she moaned wantonly beneath him. Kane’s eyes twitched with a frenzied lust. He drove again into her and held himself deeply as she arched and cried out. His own body throbbed and exploded inside hers, and for an instant she swore she heard a deep groan leave his mouth. The shared sensation electrified both as they clung to the moment, allowing the pleasure to reach completion, and then endured the pleasurable waves as they subsided.

Time slowed. Kane remained inside of Lyra, looking down at her and she up at him. Intermittently, their mouths locked with a sensitive passion. He cupped her face in his hands and waited for her to relax, then lay beside her, covering both of them with the duvet.
‘Kane,’ Lyra whispered. Kane tilted his head, acknowledging her. ‘Please don’t leave me alone again.’
‘Never,’ he replied in a deep, guttural voice. Lyra flinched with shock.
‘You can speak!?’ she cried, aghast.
‘Yes,’ Kane replied curtly.
‘But Harlon said you don’t speak. Why haven’t you spoken before?’ Lyra asked, snaking her arms about his burly neck and burying her head into his chest.
‘I don’t need to. I have no reason to speak to humans; you cannot reason with the unreasonable.’ Lyra furrowed her brow.
‘Why didn’t you speak to me?’ Kane kissed her head.
‘How would you have learned to bring your empathy to fruition? If I spoke to you, you would not try alternative methods of communication.’
‘I don’t want to leave you,’ Lyra whispered, burrowing further into his chest. ‘I just don’t understand why you just left me alone.’
‘I told you the truth, Lyra. I was testing your obedience and your love. I wanted to know your feelings, and you needed time to practise living as a hunter.’ Kane squeezed her gently.
‘That’s it?’ she queried, sensing there was more.
‘No. You were correct; I am a sadist.’

Lyra sighed; she was well aware of that fact.
‘Part of me needs to see you in pain. I feed from it,’ Kane confessed as he held her closer. ‘I wanted to hurt you. There is something inside of me that delights in the suffering of others.’ Lyra let out an elated grunt as her eyelids flitted.
‘Then punish me as you wish,’ she whispered into his chest. Kane sucked in a mouthful of air.
‘You must face what I am, Lyra!’
‘I know what you are,’ the woman responded in a puzzled voice.
‘No, you must watch and face it before you can make your first kill,’ Kane explained. ‘Without interference, without trying to protect the humans. You need to watch and accept.’ He tilted her face up to his. ‘Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Kane, I understand,’ she whispered.

Kane 31 – Chapter Thirty-One: Facility Bodies

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-31-chapter-thirty-one-facility-bodies/

‘There are two young people camping beyond my land,’ Kane began.

‘How do you know?’ Lyra interrupted with an air of confusion.

‘I arranged through Harlon to have them put there by Nicolas,’ Kane explained. ‘Nicolas operates a very specific facility should we ever run out of food or require supplies for any reason.’

‘What do you mean, facility?’ Lyra queried.

‘You will meet Nicolas in due course and then you will understand more.’ Lyra tipped her head back.

‘I really don’t understand. Do you mean like a human farm?’ Kane noted the disgust in her tone.

‘You must forget that you were ever human. To do otherwise would be detrimental to your very existence.’

‘But that’s what you mean, isn’t it?’ Lyra snorted.

‘These are not good human beings, Lyra. I promise that once you have made your first kill, all will become clear.’ Kane tilted his head to take in the shape of her face and ordered, ‘You will obey me in this, Lyra.’ The creature sat up. ‘Get dressed, it’s time.’

Both dressed in the darkness, and Kane attached his knife and replaced his mask.

‘How do you make these people come here if they are in a facility?’ Lyra badgered as she zipped her boots up.

‘I told you to just obey for now,’ Kane replied curtly. Lyra tutted under her breath, causing Kane to stop dressing and stare at her through the mask.

I told you, all will be explained later, his mind snapped. Lyra yanked her top over her head. Some are just tourists who trespass on my land. They are warned with all fairness. Others are offered time away from the facility, but they are not good people, Kane summarised.

‘Death camp for the wicked,’ Lyra replied sarcastically. Kane nodded humourlessly.

You can collect your jacket on your way, he added, examining his woman standing in just a shirt.

‘My knife?’ Lyra asked meekly as she recalled throwing it into the lake.

Harlon will fetch that tomorrow before your kill. I suggest you don’t leave your belongings lying around again, Kane subtly ordered. All you have to do is watch.

Susan sat close to the crackling fire, her highlighted brown hair tied back in a bun and her body bunched up in a dark green sleeping bag. The glow of the fire illuminated the orange hue of the small tent and warmed Susan’s hands as they perched over her bag.

‘Do you think this means we will be getting out soon?’ she asked her twin brother. A lad with the same round face and sky-blue eyes snored on the ground next to her. Susan gave him a playful kick. ‘Dan?’ she snapped, causing the boy to snort himself awake.

‘What?’ he groaned.

‘Do you think this means we will be let out soon?’ Dan shrugged.

‘I don’t know. Guess we are on good behaviour though.’ Susan smiled.

‘I heard that when Dr Farrell lets people go on excursions, they don’t come back; they go home right after.’

‘Never really thought about it!’ Dan replied, stretching as a breeze of wind blew his fringe from his face. ‘People come and go so often I don’t really take notice.’

Susan wiggled closer to the fire as the cool wind scraped her face.

‘Well, I do, and people sent on these survival trips are given early release,’ she giggled excitedly.

‘Whatever you think,’ Dan replied, poking the fire with a stick, ‘but I don’t think we’re getting out two years early.’

‘Why not?’ she snorted. ‘Ed and Emily got out early!’

‘Because we’re not Ed and Emily,’ Dan snapped. ‘They were in for a lot less.’

‘I heard they moved to Michigan!’ Susan replied.

‘Probably did, probably growing a whole farm of weed right now!’ Dan dropped the stick in the fire and lay back down.

‘Well, good luck to them,’ Susan snapped playfully, throwing a handful of sand at her brother.

Lyra pulled her jacket from the branch and put it on.

Don’t speak, hunters don’t speak! Kane instructed. Lyra tutted. They don’t make any noise at all. Kane pulled up the zip on her jacket, and his eyes locked on hers. He raised the mask and bent down, placing his mouth over hers. Lyra allowed him to explore her mouth. He pushed her against the branch, allowing her to feel his rising hardness as his tongue meshed with hers. Then, with perfect self-control, he pulled away and stood tall, lowering his mask. Each kill must be planned meticulously, each trap prepared if needed. If you intend to drive your prey, then know the route. Lyra composed herself, still reeling from his lips.

You enjoy this, don’t you? she asked, fearing that she may not have the same taste for blood.

I already told you that I have an insatiable bloodlust, but everything must be planned. Lyra scratched her head thoughtfully.

Did you ever plan to kill me?

Hurt you, yes. Kill you? I don’t believe so, the creature reassured, stroking his woman’s cheek. It’s always easier if you separate the humans. It allows you to frighten and confuse them. Lyra half-smiled, unsure of her own ability to manage what was expected of her. Lyra, you are only to watch. Do not intervene in any way. Do you understand? Lyra nodded slightly and reminded herself that she was now a separate species.

‘Where will we go if they release us?’ Susan asked her brother. Dan shrugged.

‘Away from here, new start and all that.’

‘It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?’ Susan asked, staring at the lake’s edge and following the beach up to the woods. ‘So peaceful?’

‘Yeah! It’s great; cold, bats, bugs! What more could you ask for?’ Dan sniped.

‘Well, I think it’s beautiful. Makes a change from looking at four walls!’ she quipped.

‘I’ll give you that, it’s better than looking at four walls and a load of crazies all day!’ Dan sat up and moved closer to the fire, leaning in to warm himself.

‘They’re not crazies. They are no different from you or me,’ Susan corrected.

‘Like I said, crazies!’

Kane watched from the treeline, and Lyra watched Kane from a high branch of a patchy white-barked beech tree. He looked magnificent; tall, sturdy and a true predator. Kane snapped a branch in his gloved hands and stepped behind the wide trunk of an oak.

‘Did you hear that?’ Susan’s voice echoed up from the beach.

‘Yeah, so?’ her brother snorted.

‘So? There’s someone out there!’ Dan shook his head.

‘Just some animal or another.’ He turned his hands to warm the other side. Kane sidestepped from the oak and marched with heavy feet to the birch looming beside it.

‘There’s someone out there, Dan, I’m telling you! Go look,’ Susan whimpered.

‘You and your overactive imagination,’ Dan laughed. ‘If it makes you happy, I’ll go and see what mysterious creature is so terrifying.’ Kane trod heavily back to the birch.

Dan climbed to his feet and marched to the treeline. He scanned the forest but was unable to see in the darkness. He hurried back to the tent.

‘Gonna need a torch to hunt this badger,’ he quipped, leaning into the tent. He pulled out a small, black torch and flicked it on and off a few times. Kane snapped another branch.

‘That’s not a badger,’ Susan muttered.

‘Well, whatever it is, it’s gonna get its ass kicked!’ Dan shouted as he strutted towards the forest.

‘Be careful,’ Susan called after him, hunching further down into her sleeping bag.

Dan entered the forest, climbing up a small slope and veering between the ivory pillars of two birch trees. He shone the torch about and ventured further into the woods, waving the torch around him as he moved. Kane moved silently about the oak, allowing Dan to pass him by. He then waited patiently as the lad marched further into the trees. Lyra glanced back at Susan, who was nervously staring at the treeline. Kane waited until he was beyond the range of the torch’s light and moved stealthily in the shadow of the trees. Lyra followed, climbing from branch to branch. Once he had strutted some distance, Dan stopped, shrugged his shoulders and spun around with the intention of going back to the beach to mock his sister’s paranoia.

He had barely time to advance before he was stopped in his tracks. A giant masked monster of a man stood in his way.

‘Hey, pal, you scared the…’ Kane drew his machete from the scabbard and raised it so that the blade glinted in the torchlight. The lad’s eyes widened. ‘Fuck that shit!’ he yelled and ran back in the direction that Kane had been driving him. Lyra dropped silently from the trees and followed the monster. Once satisfied that the lad was headed in the correct direction, Kane opened a trapdoor cloaked under a barrage of leaves and dropped down into the tunnels. He waited briefly for Lyra to reach him, and then strode through the passageways with his woman following.

Lights shone through the forest and Dan rushed towards them, his feet skidding in the mud as he ran.

‘Help! Someone!’ he yelled, panic-stricken. He jumped onto the porch and banged loudly on the door. ‘Help me, please,’ he called urgently. ‘There’s a madman out here!’ No one responded. Dan pushed the door open. The front room was messy and unkempt, but a small light glowed in the corner. ‘Hello!’ he called. No one answered. The front door blew in the wind and thudded several times before forcefully shutting behind him. His heart jumped, and he ran into the rear corridor. A trapdoor sat wide open, revealing a dark basement. ‘I don’t think so,’ he muttered, edging away from the drop. As he turned, an arm locked about his neck. The lad’s back arched and he let out a horrific, agonised scream as the machete blade burst through his chest. Blood poured from the lad’s mouth and he shook before flopping forward. Kane snatched the knife from his back and pushed him down the hole, flipping the trapdoor shut. Lyra stepped from the shadows behind him. His hand touched her forehead.

Is it so bad? Lyra remained motionless, unsure as to how she felt, until the bloodied blade was lifted to her lips and she sampled the life fluid.

Susan climbed from her sleeping bag, her fear replaced with concern for her brother.

‘Dan?’ she called, heading towards the woodland. ‘Dan?’ Nothing moved, and the torchlight had long since vanished into the thick of the trees. Susan listened for Dan’s footsteps, but could hear nothing but the breeze and the soft patter of rain that hit the lake. ‘Dan? Please answer me,’ she shouted desperately. Feeling a chill, Susan hurried back to the beach and climbed inside the tent, zipping it up. The rain’s beat increased, and she shivered, having left her sleeping bag outside.

A movement flittered past the canvas. Then another, followed by a rustling. Susan crawled backwards, rearing up against the flap. In the glow of the fire, a giant shadow emerged; the form of a man holding a sword or something similar. Kane raised the machete and sliced through the canvas. His hand took a clump of the woman’s hair and dragged her kicking and screaming from the illusion of safety. He dragged her down the beach and placed one foot on her chest so that she could not escape.

Lyra, come here, he willed.

You told me not to interfere, Lyra responded obediently.

And you won’t, Kane confirmed masterfully.

Lyra stepped from behind the tent and walked slowly past the flames that were dying out in the growing storm. Susan caught sight of the woman and reached out a hand.

‘Help me?’ she cried. Lyra remained still, watching. ‘Please, help me,’ Susan begged fruitlessly. Lyra looked up at Kane. Her expressionless face gave a hint of a smile, and Susan realised that her cries were worthless. Kane released his foot and allowed Susan enough space to crawl and back away from him. Once there was a sufficient distance between them, he swung the blade over his head and ran stealthily, burying the knife in her skull. He raised his boot and forced her body to the ground, pulling his machete out as he did.

Kane signalled to Lyra and she stepped forward obediently, dropping to her knees in front of him. He stroked her forehead tenderly and ran the blade along her tongue, allowing her to swallow every drop of fresh blood until it was cleaned. He then sheathed the weapon and commanded Lyra to wait for him in the growing storm. The body was lifted over his shoulder and carried off into the trees for disposal in the tunnels. Lyra waited, knowing that Harlon would provide a good feed from the night’s hunt. Kane soon returned from the forest to find Lyra still on her knees. He bent down to her, lifting her into his arms, and carried her to his cabin, eager to sate another need.

Kane 32 – Chapter Thirty-Two: Healing

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-32-chapter-thirty-two-healing/

Lyra awoke to the whistle of thrushes outside of Kane’s window. The rain had stopped, but a breeze blew through the open window, causing the torn curtains to flap. She looked up at her man sleeping; he was different, his face was distorted, but to her it was beautiful. She ran her fingertips along his twisted mouth and rugged cheek and wished that she had gone to him sooner. Perhaps, she reasoned, he needed to have confidence in her obedience and faith in her ability. Kane breathed heavily in the depths of sleep. He had worn himself out feeding his lust over and over throughout the night. A soreness emanated from between her legs and served as a reminder of his prowess.

He had changed her so substantially or allowed her to realize her own potential and find the darkness within. As a predator, he was magnificent, ruthless and cruel, but this only served to excite Lyra’s lust and his own. The events of the previous night ran through Lyra’s mind; she had acted so brazenly and spoken so harshly to him. Her hurt had peaked, as had her desire. His roughness with her, the pain he caused her, all contributed to the pleasure that he had given her so abundantly. Harlon had conveniently left early and not returned until Kane needed him. She wondered if Kane had planned every move, hunting her for his own desire, and she wondered if he loved her as she loved him. He had never indicated any feeling, but when he touched her, she felt such a strong and powerful connection with him.

Lyra ran her hand along the crook of his lip and up his cheek to his drooped eye socket, stroking around the brow. Her lips brushed against his cheek and she kissed his lips.

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you,’ she whispered with genuine sentiment. Kane shifted without opening his eyes and wrapped his arms about her, holding her close. ‘I never really cared about anything or anyone before,’ Lyra continued quietly, whilst stroking his face. ‘I understood pain, spite, jealousy, and you were right, I can empathize, but I don’t care. I just wanted to leave that world behind.’ She slid her hand down his neck. ‘I thought I would always be alone, hiding from the darkness, but now I want to lie in the darkness with you forever.’ Her eyes stung with tears; he had taken her pain from her as promised and replaced it, between lovemaking, with the lash of his belt on her behind. The remnants of the previous night’s welts, though healing rapidly, still ached so enticingly. ‘I wish you understood,’ she ventured. ‘I wish you knew what love was.’ Her eyes closed and she fell back into a deep sleep, resting in his grip.

‘Missy, you wake up now,’ Harlon coaxed, wiping her brow. ‘Today’s your day, and the boy wants you to do it right.’ Lyra rubbed her eyes and sat up.

‘What time is it?’ she asked, noting the dusky hue setting in outside of the window.

‘Gone five in the evening, you been a sleepin’ all day, so Old Harlon guesses you and the boy had some catchin’ up to do. Now you gots to eat something. Old Harlon made you stew fresh, not frozen,’ Harlon chuckled, handing her the container and spoon. ‘And this is something for ya,’ he said, handing her a flask.

‘I don’t need whiskey,’ Lyra explained, pushing the silver flask away. Harlon laughed again.

‘Ain’t whiskey, Missy, it’s from the boy.’ Lyra unscrewed the cap and smelled the elixir; without a doubt, it was his aroma. She swallowed several mouthfuls and ate the stew before finishing Kane’s sweet blood.

‘You know how this works, Missy?’ Harlon asked without expecting an answer. ‘Your kill gets loosed in the wilderness and you hunt and end it, then feed from it.’

‘It?’ Lyra asked quizzically.

‘Best to think of it that way. That’s what Old Harlon does when he’s cutting them up and packin’ them in the freezers.’ Lyra grimaced at the thought of the old man dragging bodies along the tunnels between his and Kane’s cabin and cutting them up in his basement.

‘The boy told ya to plan, did he?’ Lyra nodded. ‘So, that’s what ya do. Use what ya can do best, maybe your arrows.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Lyra responded thoughtfully.

‘Missy, your aim is dead-on. It’ll be easy for ya.’

‘That’s the problem, I don’t think it should be easy.’

Harlon smiled.

‘Old Harlon thought you say that!’

‘Arrows distance me from the kill, so I won’t know if I can do it face to face.’ Harlon nodded wisely.

‘That’s why Old Harlon asked Nicolas to get you a special one.’

‘What do you mean, special?’ Lyra asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

‘Now, before I tell you, Missy, promise Old Harlon you won’t panic. The boy will be there watchin’ if anythin’ goes awry.’ Harlon scanned the woman’s face, but sensed no fear and continued, ‘This one’s an ex-destroyer. Trained, but left after a year or so. Went his own way.’

‘So, he can fight?’ Lyra asked.

‘He can fight, and he knows what he’s up against,’ Harlon replied, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘Strong one too, Nicolas got him special for Old Harlon.’

‘How long since he was active?’ Lyra queried, trying to gauge her chances against him.

‘Two years, but don’t you let that fool ya. He trained most of his life for this.’

‘And Kane will be watching?’ Harlon nodded.

‘You won’t see him unless something goes bad, but the boy will be there!’ Lyra pursed her lips.

‘Is there a late store over in town?’ she asked. Harlon furrowed his brow.

‘Bit late to go shopping, ain’t it?’

‘What time will it begin?’ Lyra queried, fiddling with her blond locks.

‘Gets fully dark about eight tonight, but there’s a full moon for ya,’ Harlon noted. ‘Why?’

‘I want you to help me with something beforehand. Can you do that?’ she asked. Harlon turned his head slightly out of curiosity. ‘I want to make him proud!’

‘Guess this old bastard can help,’ Harlon smirked.

The dusk thickened and the moon rose as the sun dropped. A grey and pink hue fell across the lake. Harlon waited at the foot of his trail as a jeep rumbled towards him. A dark figure emerged, fully clad in black, his face covered with a balaclava. The figure nodded to Harlon and, without a word, opened the boot of the jeep and yanked out a wriggling sack bound with rope. Pulling a butcher’s knife from his belt, the figure sliced through the ropes and dragged the sack over to the old man. Kane stepped from the shadows and the figure threw a set of keys at him before climbing back into his jeep and reversing up the trail.

Kane dragged the sack across the beach and, with Harlon’s assistance, pulled a tall, well-built man from within. His head was shaved, and he bore a tattoo of the rune letter ‘M’ crossed across the arches on the back of his neck. His hands and feet were held in chains. Kane unlocked the chains on his feet using the key thrown to him by the dark deliverer. He then signalled to Harlon to leave before striking the back of the man’s head and unlocking his wrists.

‘M’ for man. That is what the ex-destroyer was; a representation of the evils of men. Kane had intentionally disorientated Man, but not rendered him unconscious. Man quickly recovered as Kane disappeared into his wilderness to watch Lyra’s first kill. Man stood. He knew exactly what the Immortalis were; he had been trained and prepared. Nicolas had made it clear to him that he was to be sacrificed to a youngling, and Man had scoffed at the notion.

Man looked around, expecting his nemesis to come directly for him there and then. He waited, but no one came. Man checked his area. Footsteps crunched from the forest; this youngling would easily be destroyed. The ability to use stealth was absent, and he presumed that all other training and skills would be defective. Man smiled to himself with a grunt and headed for the sound. The moon offered enough light to see, and Man checked his corners as he moved, avoiding the trunks of the trees for fear that an Immortalis would be hiding in the shadows.

Branches rustled, and another sound like cracking drew Man further in. Kane watched from the shadows, waiting patiently for his Lyra. He expected her to use her arrows and end the matter hastily. The sound ceased, and Man stopped in his tracks. His eyes scanned the forest, but there was no movement. Another rustle caught his attention; this one was much closer. Man tilted his neck to get a better view. The air shifted as an invisible breeze passed through the trees, and from the canopies above she fell.

A toned, yet curvy woman dropped down in front of him. Her blond hair was now jet-black and tied into a tight bun, her trousers replaced by a tight camouflage body suit covered with black straps that secured a crossbow to her back. A black scabbard held a machete by her left leg and her lips glowed a deep damson even in the dark. Her eyes sharpened and glinted like those of a cat and were accentuated by a deep black liner. Her body dropped, landing on a bent knee shrouded in black boots, her head bowed.

Man ran towards her. She sprang to her feet and turned twice, raising her leg high and kicking his head. Man stumbled but came back with a punch to her stomach. Lyra stepped back, avoiding the full impact, and threw a back fist to his head, then raised a knee to his stomach whilst clasping his neck to pull him onto the force. Man punched his adversary with a hook, and she fell backwards, quickly rising, clasped onto a rope hanging subtly under the canopies, and swept the machete across another rope tied to the bark. Clinging to the rope, she flew upwards and disappeared into the trees.

Man shook himself and studied the branches before climbing nimbly from one to the next. Lyra climbed from branch to branch and sheltered in the trunk of a taller oak. Man heard movement from the oak’s nooks and climbed across a thick branch. As he neared the end, a figure somersaulted over his head and landed where the branch connected to its mother tree. With one vicious hack, Lyra sliced the branch from the tree and watched as Man fell to the forest floor. She loosened the rope from her waist and dropped down several branches, then slid over to the oak.

Man thudded to the floor, and Lyra pulled the crossbow from her back, loaded it with speed and shot at his thigh. The arrow drove into the muscle. Lyra replaced the bow and swung underneath her branch, released and landed in front of him. Man pulled the dart from his leg and cried out with both the exertion and the pain. He stood and raised his fists. Lyra dodged the first hook, but Man quickly fired a cross punch which caught her cheek with full force. Lyra stumbled sideways, but regained her composure and, recalling her work with Harlon, rained a series of straight blows to Man’s face, the impact of which caused him to stagger backwards. Man finally ducked her punches and hooked her waist, blowing the air from her lungs. Lyra gulped against the lack of breath and Man took the advantage by back-fisting her face, knocking her to the floor.

Harlon stood at Kane’s side in the shadows. Kane took a step to advance on Man, but Harlon grabbed his arm and shook his head.

Lyra crawled backwards away from Man along the ground. Man hobbled forward, holding his injured leg.

‘You fucking bitch,’ he screamed as she edged away from him. ‘I’m gonna tear your throat out.’ Lyra bent a knee so that her foot grounded, and she rose up. ‘Did they tell you they can’t intervene?’ he asked snidely. ‘Bet they didn’t!’ Lyra stepped further back without showing any response. Man stepped forward again, and she sidestepped away from the trees. Man moved into her path and continued to drive her back. ‘I’m gonna break your neck and hold your fucking head under water so long you will wish you were dead.’ Lyra took another step back.

Kane snapped his head at Harlon angrily. The old man tightened the grip on his arm.

Let me go to her, Kane commanded. Harlon shook his head.

Lyra sidestepped again and turned as if attempting to run into the trees. Man rushed forwards with his arms out, ready to grab her. Instantly, Lyra drew her machete and chopped at the tree beside her. No rope fell or rose. The rope attached to the tree swished to the floor and a second rope tightened around Man’s ankle and hoisted him so that his head hung four feet from the forest floor.

Calmly, Lyra walked over to him, just out of arm’s length, dropped her crossbow and quiver, and lay down, shifting herself underneath Man as he flailed and shouted. She bent her right leg and tilted her head back, arching from the neck. With one swift twist and strike of the blade, she severed Man’s throat. The wound opened instantly due to his position, and Lyra opened her mouth, allowing the blood to pour in. She swallowed the life fluid urgently as he burbled his final, choked breaths. As the blood flow slowed, she reached for her bow and shot at the rope, shifting out of the body’s path. The body hit the floor. Lyra pulled her head back and plunged her teeth deep into the wound, taking every drop of fluid possible into her mouth with an inhuman greed.

Kane 33 – Chapter Thirty-Three: The Hospital

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-33-chapter-thirty-three-the-hospital/

Harlon emerged from the shadows as Lyra completed her feed. Blood soaked her face and splats lay strewn across her skin and clothing. She collected her crossbow and secured it to her back.
‘We got ourselves a predator in you, Missy,’ Harlon praised with a wink. ‘Let Old Harlon get you back to your cabin and run you a bath.’
‘Where’s Kane?’ Lyra asked, fearing that he would abandon her again.
‘The boy’s goin’ clearin’ that up,’ Harlon muttered, waving a hand at the corpse. ‘Come.’

Lyra walked next to Harlon through the woods. The sound of bats flapping filled her ears. She could sense badgers shifting in their dens and foxes scurrying in the distant undergrowth. The moon appeared clearer and closer than ever, and the music of the lake’s tide played as if speaking to her.
‘It’s so peaceful here,’ Lyra observed.
‘Yep,’ Harlon agreed, ‘it is that.’
‘What happens now?’
‘Missy, you need a bath, then tomorrow Old Harlon’s taking you on a day trip.’ The old man took her hand. ‘Don’t be worrying, Missy, he ain’t goin’ leavin’ you.’ Lyra’s lip curled as if trying to force a smile.
‘He did though, and his mood changes.’
‘What do you expect? You’re the first person he’s ever loved.’ Lyra stopped dead, but Harlon continued talking. ‘He just don’t know how to deal with it is all.’ The old man looked over his shoulder. ‘What’s the hold-up for?’

‘You said he loves me,’ Lyra replied, her stomach knotting as she spoke.
‘Well, course he loves ya, he ain’t hidden it none,’ Harlon stated nonchalantly. Then he noted the perplexed look on Lyra’s face. ‘Why would you think he don’t?’
‘He has never said he loves me, he is fickle, he pushed me away.’ Harlon sauntered over to Lyra and gripped her wrist.
‘He loves ya, Missy,’ he confirmed, giving her arm a tug so that she started walking again. ‘He told ya why he did what he did. He never thought no one would love him back.’
‘When did he decide he loved me then?’ Lyra asked.
‘First night you moved in, he told me he sat with you whilst you slept.’ Harlon sighed. ‘But the boy got called away, he wanted to spend all night with ya.’ Lyra imagined the shock that she would have got had she woken up to see Kane sitting next to her.

At length, they reached Lyra’s cabin, and the old man ran her a bath. Lyra stripped off in the bathroom and passed her bloodied clothes through the door to Harlon before stepping into the warm water. Every drop created a different sensation as it clung around her body. She sank her head under the surface, lying there for some time before rising and washing thoroughly with herbal rinse Harlon had made her from witch hazel and aloe vera. Once cleansed, Lyra dried herself and combed her newly coloured hair. She gazed in the mirror; this was who she was destined to be.

Lyra wrapped a towel around her and switched off the light before opening the door. The cabin was in darkness.
‘Harlon,’ she called. ‘Are you in here?’ No one answered. She padded through the front room. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and a surreal night vision emerged. The front door was shut, but the shutters had been opened for her, letting in the light of the moon. On the table sat a glass filled to the brim with a thick red fluid. Lyra wandered over to it and sniffed at it. Kane’s scent wafted from the liquid, and she drank it without hesitation.

‘Harlon, are you still here?’ Lyra repeated. Again, no one answered. She suspected that he had gone to his basement to store their food and sauntered to her bedroom. The door stood ajar. Lyra pushed it listlessly, worn from her exertions and the final stage of her change. At least, she reasoned, this stage is not as painful as the first. She stretched and dropped the towel to the floor, turning to her bed. A smile crept across her lips as she saw Kane lying under the duvet waiting for her, his clothes left in a heap on the floor.

‘Kane,’ Lyra whispered, still fearing that he would abandon her. Without a word, Kane pulled back the duvet so that she could climb in next to him. Lyra lay beside her Immortalis as instructed. Kane covered her and drew her body into his chest. ‘I was worried, I thought I had disappointed you somehow,’ she whispered. Kane did not respond. ‘I thought that…’ His finger covered her mouth and he eased her onto her back. He moved delicately between her legs and kissed her lips as he gently eased himself inside of her. Lyra winced, still sore from the previous night’s exertions. Kane moved against her with a tenderness that she had not experienced. His body lay easily against hers, and each kiss was more affectionate than the last. Her desire grew gradually as he stroked her curves. Her knees raised and parted for him, and he trailed her entrance and clit with an uncharacteristic passion.

Kane’s lips brushed against her cheek and grazed her neck, then returned to her mouth. With little force and only the suggestion of the pressure of her hand, Lyra rolled him onto his back and straddled him. She stretched her legs down over his and moved on him with equal sensitivity. She could feel him aching inside of her and increased the pressure, taking him deeper until both reached a gentle but powerful climax.

Lyra slid off Kane and rested her head on his chest.
‘Did I disappoint you, Kane?’ she whispered.
Never, he reassured her. I saw a mortal become a goddess tonight. Lyra smiled as his breast heaved under her, not with his usual rage, but with something else.
‘Is something wrong, Kane?’ Lyra muttered. The creature shook his head and rested a hand in her hair.
Everything is as it should be, he communicated cryptically. Lyra sighed; something was different. His usual aggression, the aggression that aroused her so, had abated. Before Lyra had time to probe further, Kane took her in his arms and held her with an impassioned strength. Lyra curled her hands about his neck. I do know what love is, Lyra, he confessed. You were right. I didn’t know what love was, but I do now. Lyra sucked in a breath, her eyelashes lowered over her eyes and she trembled.
‘I know what love is because I love you and have loved you since I first saw you.’ His words hung in the air.
‘I love you, Kane, but you know that. You heard every word that I said to you this morning.’ She took a breath. ‘That’s why I was terrified that I would never see you again.’
‘I’ll never let you go, never,’ Kane promised.
‘Do you still want to make me hurt?’ she asked precociously.
‘The beast in me will always want to feed on your suffering. I can’t change that,’ the monster assured her. ‘But I will never let you go again.’ Lyra sighed with delight and allowed herself to sleep in his protective arms.

Kane was showing Lyra the best methods for chopping wood when Harlon arrived the following morning.
‘It’s time,’ the old man called over the sound of the axe. Lyra smashed the axe into a log and brushed herself down.
‘Are you coming with us, Kane?’ The masked creature shook his head.
‘The boy don’t go round other people now, does he, Missy?’ Harlon stated more than asked. ‘Don’t you worry, you won’t be gone long. It’s just out of town, then you be back.’ Lyra took Kane’s gloved hands in her own and something unspoken passed between them. She then climbed into Harlon’s jeep that had been ticking over. She wondered how many vehicles he had collected over the years, as the rear of his cabin was like an old scrapyard.

Harlon turned on the beach, and though he made small talk on the journey, he said nothing about their destination. They travelled to Forest Green and out the back end into a hilly wilderness saturated in forestry. Eventually, the old man turned onto a rugged trail that caused the jeep to bounce through the forest. At the latter end of the trail, the path widened into a misty clearing. Two massive iron gates stood proud in the middle of a high cobbled wall. Harlon stopped the vehicle and climbed out. He pressed a button on an old intercom and simply said his name before returning to the jeep. The gates creaked open and he drove through.

The drive led to a hideously overstated building; a mansion Gothic in style, with turrets towering over the three floors and attic windows. Harlon stopped the vehicle at the bottom of the stone steps that led up to the entrance; two giant oak doors that formed an arch. Harlon grasped one of the black gargoyles that served as knockers and pounded once, then waited.

Eventually, a young plain woman with red, wavy hair, dressed in a dated nurse’s uniform, answered.
‘Dr Farrell, please,’ Harlon stated simply. The woman glared at Lyra. ‘She’s here with me,’ Harlon stated simply. The woman nodded, and Lyra and Harlon followed her up a sprawling staircase and veered left in the crimson-painted and carpeted corridor at the top. Lamps hung on the walls between closed doors, lighting the dim passage. The nurse knocked on the third door to the right.

A bespectacled, stout young man with black hair and a tightly trimmed beard poked his head out, and the nurse hurried away.
‘I’ve come to see…’ Harlon began.
‘Nicolas,’ interrupted the doctor nervously as he squeezed through the confines of the gap he had made in the door. ‘Of course.’ He closed the door behind him. ‘Come!’ he gestured. Lyra and Harlon followed him back past the staircase and to the door at the very end of the corridor. The doctor knocked twice and used his keys to unlock the door, which Lyra found a little odd. ‘Let yourself out when you have finished,’ he added, making the whole scenario even more bizarre, as he clearly had no urgency to lock the door on their departure. The doctor returned to his office at great speed without looking back.

Harlon waited until Farrell was out of sight before opening the door. The room was simply laid out; white walls, a bed dressed in white sheets and a white cupboard with a white door beside it, which Lyra presumed led to the bathroom. On the bed sat a distinguished-looking man with short, black hair exhibiting a few silver flecks and emerald eyes that seemed to glow. His body was clad in white and seemed to blend in with the room.

The man rose as Harlon spoke.
‘This is Lyra. Lyra, this is Nicolas.’ Nicolas bowed his head and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it. Nicolas waved his hands at two white kitchen chairs that sat out of place by the window. Harlon sat, and Lyra followed his example.
‘You did well, Lyra,’ Nicolas began. ‘Kane must be very proud of you. I trust the specimen was challenging enough?’
‘He was.’ Lyra looked around her at Nicolas’s cage. Nicolas watched her gaze and, as if reading her thoughts, replied.
‘Surely you know by now that all is not as it appears.’ He rested his hands elegantly on his knees as he spoke. ‘Very little of what we experience as mortals represents the truth.’ He tilted his head and awaited a reply.

After an awkward pause, Lyra asked,
‘Is this a sanatorium? Are you a patient?’ Nicolas laughed wholeheartedly.
‘The words of a mortal, but yes, I suppose this is a sanatorium of sorts. We house the criminally insane and the evils of the mortal world. People who can simply disappear and no one looks too hard for them. But,’ Nicolas stated, leaning forward, ‘I am not a patient, for if I was, I would not have been able to deliver that fine specimen yesterday, now would I?’ Lyra sighed.
‘Why the pretence, why pretend to be a prisoner?’
‘Firstly, we must be invisible to the world. To run an institute like this, I wear the cloak of invisibility by hiring a professional staff. Some of whom are aware of the true situation, and others are not so enlightened.’ Nicolas’s face stretched into a cruel smile. ‘And secondly, I have my own personal needs and desires to sate, just as Kane has his. A partiality, you might call it, for haunting my victims prior to the kill. This gloomy castle makes that perfectly feasible and largely undetectable.’ His lip curled into a snarl, the same look that she had seen in Kane at the height of his bloodlust.

Kane 34 – Chapter Thirty-Four: Finale

Link: https://immortalisverse.com/kane-34-chapter-thirty-four-finale/

‘Immortalis are not chosen randomly, they are recognised by other Immortalis. We see the darkness in others, and we test them,’ Nicolas explained, still sitting rigidly on his bed. ‘Kane saw something in you, but you were selected long before and sent to him.’
‘No, I just wanted a change of scenery and found the cabin,’ Lyra stammered.
‘Who found the cabin? I believe your agent found the cabin, didn’t she?’ Nicolas corrected. Lyra thought back to her time in New York. Her agent had spoken to her about living in the country and had proposed the cabin.
‘She didn’t just propose it, my love,’ Nicolas chimed in, reading her thoughts. ‘She arranged the entire purchase from the proceeds of your art sales.’

Lyra thought over the entire transaction and realized that she had very little input in the matter.
‘Why?’ Lyra asked. ‘My agent is not immortal, at least I am pretty sure she isn’t.’
‘No, and she is none the wiser,’ Nicolas stated, ‘but money can buy a lot, and when one of the oldest Immortalis saw your work, something about it told her that you were born to darkness. She chose you for Kane, and she has the sort of wealth accumulated over millennia that can buy anything. Including both your work and the generosity and compliance of your agent.’
‘Did Kane know?’ Lyra asked.
‘Only in retrospect, the decision had to be his and his alone.’ Lyra’s eyes widened.
‘So, Lilith could have been sending me to my death!’ Nicolas laughed, but remained rigid in a manner that reminded Lyra of Kane’s motionless stances.

‘Lilith has greater wisdom than you give her credit for, Lyra. She has an instinct, a higher understanding, and she knew that Kane would want you. I can’t explain how. I am neither old nor wise in Immortalis terms.’ Lyra leaned forward.
‘But you see the darkness in others.’
‘I see cruelty in some, plain human cruelty, and then I see the darkness, which is something deeper. It is a recognition of not belonging to that world that you have left behind, and yet recognising thought and emotion in others.’ Nicolas rubbed his hands down his legs. ‘Those with the darkness are able to accept this world, just as you have.’

Lyra turned her head and stared through the bars covering the small window into the misty gardens.
‘It’s beautiful and isolated here too,’ she observed.
‘We like to be within nature, not within populations. Here I have everything I need and am provided for by my ghoul, though he is still adjusting.’
‘Dr Farrell?’ Lyra noted.
‘Yes, Dr Farrell. As experienced as Old Harlon is, I needed a different environment. The lake is Kane’s environment, whereas I like both the confines and freedoms of this dingy old castle and its constant supply of food and other needs, shall we say.’ Nicolas waited until Lyra turned back to face him before continuing. ‘Take that pretty red-haired nurse, she is providing me with much amusement, and I intend to amuse her in due course.’ Nicolas turned his head towards Lyra and smirked. ‘Just as Kane is providing you with great amusement, I assume?’ Lyra flushed, and an awkward silence ensued.

After overcoming her brief embarrassment, Lyra felt it would be prudent to change the subject.
‘How did Harlon become your ghoul?’ Nicolas looked at the old man with a fondness and then looked through the wall behind. This too reminded Lyra of Kane’s constant staring into the distance.
‘Lilith found him during the Civil War. He was a soldier from the North with an excellent skillset and training. She watched him for some time, and on his deathbed on the battlefield, she gave him a choice. An eternity of servitude or a quick death. He chose servitude. The war made him old, but Lilith gave him life. He doesn’t always cope with his lot, but this life is not one a mortal can adjust to easily, of course.’ Nicolas flicked his gaze to Lyra. ‘He has coped better since knowing you, Lyra. He is drinking less, I believe, and he has a fatherly affection for you.’ Lyra took Harlon’s hand and squeezed it.
‘I know that,’ she mumbled, looking at the old man.
‘He will be good to you. Anything he has said or done has been to help you, Lyra,’ Nicolas insisted.
‘I’m an old bastard,’ Harlon smiled, reminding Lyra playfully of her rant at him when he bolted her shutters, leaving her alone with Kane. In return, Lyra blushed wistfully at the thought of their resulting passion.

Nicolas noted her blush and redirected the conversation.
‘Lilith was the first, a soul tossed from the grace of whatever supreme being you believe in. Later Immortalis, those recognised by the darkness, are believed by some to be old souls who have reincarnated many times. Others believe they share a bloodline with those turned by Lilith.’ Nicolas waited for Lyra to respond and continued when she gave a slight nod. ‘I choose to believe that there is some shared unconscious between us, perhaps some light passed somehow along either incarnations or bloodlines, maybe both.’ Nicolas cast his eyes back through the wall. ‘It is not important what you believe, Lyra. It is, however, important that you retain the knowledge that you are not human and, in some ways, have never been part of their world.’

‘I never had a place in the world until I met Kane,’ Lyra explained. ‘I never really lived or loved.’
‘Do you accept that your past was nothing but a waking nightmare?’ Nicolas asked.
‘It’s behind me now.’
‘Then close that past and move into your new life, whatever the cost.’ Lyra nodded, fully understanding what was being asked of her.
‘True submission comes from giving yourself wholly to your master,’ Nicolas continued. ‘Close your past life and offer your complete surrender.’ Lyra turned to Harlon.
‘Will you help me?’
‘Old Harlon will always be here for you, no matter what.’ The old man smiled and gave a gentle squeeze to her hand.
‘Then we are done here,’ Nicolas explained, standing. He took Lyra’s hand and kissed it. ‘I am sure we shall meet again.’

Lyra flicked on the light to her studio and Harlon followed her in.
‘Unpeg all of the paintings and stack them.’ Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the painting that she had made for Kane. ‘Leave that one, but stack all of the others, please.’ Harlon began following her instructions, and Lyra nipped out of the room and returned with the boxes from her move. ‘Put all the brushes and paints in the box, we can burn them.’ Lyra rummaged through the drawers and pulled out a cylindrical tube. She found a pen in her equipment and scribbled a letter out, placing it next to the pile of paintings. She then wrote a name on the tube. Once the last of the paintings had been stacked, she placed the letter on top, rolled the papers up and slid them into the tube. Harlon then helped as she threw all equipment into the boxes. Once all surfaces and drawers were clear, she left the cabin, returning to the old studio with the axe that had been used for chopping logs.

Lyra said one farewell to her old life and drove the axe into the table; chop after chop, until the table fell. Harlon watched, admiring her loyalty to Kane; the completion of her self-sacrifice. As Lyra cleared the remains of the room, Harlon carried the boxes and pieces of table outside to the beach and stacked them carefully so that boxes and wood slats were interspersed, making them conducive to ignition. He then hurried up the trail to his own cabin to collect the fuel. Lyra had arrived with very few belongings; her art equipment, clothes and a few toiletries. Harlon had been bringing her clothes and leaving them in Kane’s cabin. She rummaged in the kitchen cupboards for the sacks that she had brought her clothes in and balled every garment up, piling them in the bags. Lyra carried the bags out to the growing fire and scattered them over the pyre.

Harlon scurried back down the trail carrying two canisters of kerosene. He poured the fluid liberally over the stack and struck a match. The small flame burned wildly in the breeze. Lyra took the old man’s free hand and nodded. The match was dropped, and the flames raced about the kerosene and rapidly spread, billowing grey curls of smog into the sky. Lyra gulped as she watched her old life disappear before her eyes. Once the blaze began to abate, Lyra led Harlon back to the cabin and into her studio.
‘Please go into the town and post this for me,’ Lyra asked kindly, releasing the old man’s hand and placing her tube in it instead.
‘What is it for?’ he queried, knowing that he was accountable for her actions in the early days.
‘It’s my paintings, I want them sent to their new owner!’ Lyra exclaimed with a smile.
‘Who?’ Harlon questioned.
‘Read the label, I don’t know the address, but I am quite sure that you do.’ Harlon read the label.
‘This will please Lilith very much. She is a great admirer of art, as you know.’ Harlon’s eyes moved to the still-hanging painting. ‘And this one?’ he asked.
‘This one is not from my old life. It’s the painting I made for Kane. I want you to have it framed and give it to him for me.’
‘Surely you should give it to him,’ Harlon asserted.
‘No, I would feel more comfortable if you did.’ She blushed. Harlon nodded. He understood; she was still in awe of Kane.
‘Of course, I will,’ he replied, squeezing her hand.

Lyra led him back outside and for a few minutes they watched as the blaze of the fire lowered. Lyra then gazed across the lake.
‘Kane was reborn,’ she muttered primarily to herself.
‘What do ya mean, Missy?’ Harlon asked as his eyes fixed on the flame.
‘You told me once that you pulled him from the lake, and his new life started after you saved him.’ Lyra watched the water glistening in the setting sun. Harlon strolled to his jeep and dropped the tube and the painting in the passenger seat and then returned to Lyra’s side.
‘What are you thinkin’ of doin’ now, Missy?’ he said with an air of concern.
‘I’m thinking that I don’t feel whole, that there is one last thing I must do.’ Lyra looked at the old man’s bemused face. ‘To feel whole.’

Cold air breezed about the beach, blowing the remains of the fire into embers. Lyra stared down at the glow.
‘Old Harlon will clear up, Missy.’ Harlon placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘Now, what ya thinkin’ of doin’?’ Lyra ignored the question.
‘Where’s Kane?’ she asked instead.
‘Well, can’t say for sure, but he’s about. He’s always about.’ Lyra smiled, bent down and removed her boots, trousers and scabbard. ‘I think ya best to be leavin’ your clothes on,’ Harlon stammered, perplexed. Lyra had closed her mind to him to enable her to carry out her final sacrifice.

Leaving the clothes in a pile, she walked entranced to the shoreline. Harlon nodded. He understood. Lyra stepped into the cool waters; the coldness no longer concerned her. For a second, she hesitated but did not look back. She walked further in until the water caressed her waist and, with a splendid elegance, rose up and dove beneath the surface.

Harlon waited and waited. The sun dropped low, and still he waited. The fire quelled into a pool of ash and rubble.

At length, ripples formed on the surface of the water. Harlon squinted and rubbed his eyes. The ripples spread outwards and rounded, forming a small eddy. As quickly as Harlon blinked, Kane emerged from the depths, fully equipped, fully masked and carrying Lyra in his arms. Her hands were clasped together behind his neck, and her face rested against his shoulder, but her eyes were wide open and glinted in the dusky atmosphere. Kane strode out of the lake and onto the beach.
‘Are you alright, Missy?’ Harlon cried anxiously.
Lyra snapped her neck in his direction.
‘Call me Allyra,’ her deep, wistful voice commanded. With that, Kane turned and carried her into the depths of his wilderness.