The Romanov

Hi old Friends and new one's I've yet to encounter, I'm back from a very long hiatus. This is yet again my novel that I can't give up on, the one that I treasure above all of the other half written one's. This is 'The Romanov' reborn I'd like to say since I have hopefully improved if only slightly since our last meeting. Please as always critique but don't be harsh, prove your points, ask your questions, and help me because I'll return the favour two-fold.

Thanks,

Addawen 

Chapter One

Jensen

The blood lust in her eyes was hunger, it was hate, carnage even but . . . above all it was desire. Desire shown through those deep blue eyes, desire for want of her trigger finger to pull back and let the thirsty shell escape from its metal cage and plow deeply into my torso.

I could envision myself falling backwards with a bullet in my chest, courtesy of the devil before me. I blinked once, twice and the image of me lying flat on my back dead danced before me, leaving me wondering if she really would lay me down to sleep and never wake. I focused on the crazed beauty before me her eyes were so vibrant with life, with the hunger of the hunt so close at hand. While mine own eyes were dead to the world, forever closed and unseeing.

 Her silky red, brown hair billowed in the wind behind her, showing off her curvy little body and her eyes; my God I will never forget such eyes. When she finally takes me from this world, I know I will be haunted by such eyes. I had forgotten how much emotion could be shown through eyes; deep, dark pools of hate and triumph.

Was this to be my end? I wondered. Would I not even attempt to defend myself from this blue eyed demon? Allowing myself to be struck down by this siren? And I a man of war was I to be snuffed out like this, after all that I have seen and lived through? I have seen many men die and many go crazy with hate and the desire for carnage, but mostly men have turned cowardly, worse than the crazed blood lust.

Her petal shaped lips twitched in that one of a kind smile; it was an all knowing smile much like the Wicked Witch of the West and her “I’ll get you my pretty and your little dog too.”  I could feel it deep within my bones that I wasn’t going to see another morning, not with this savage little creature before me, holding my life in the palm of her petite hand.

“Out of my way Jensen!” she snarls her voice sweeter then I imagined. “It is not you that I want.”

“Jensen?” I ask bewildered. “You know my name? Who are you?” panic seemed to take flight at that little leeway of information that she probably hadn’t realized slipped past her guarded mouth. She exhaled slowly her eyes softening, her shoulders sagged and the shotgun in her hands dropped a little.

The Siren stepped towards me placing a small hand on my chest, she looked up at me with longing and I am too enthralled to do or say anything.

“Jensen,” she whispered her voice like honey. “Jensen, it’s all for you.”

Before I could utter another word, like a viper the butt of her gun struck out, slamming into my skull and just like so many others before me I, Jensen Kolbeck have fallen victim to The Romanov . . .

 “And then I woke up.” I answered, pinching the bridge of my nose as I fought back the memory of the nightmares that have been haunting me the past four weeks.

My therapist, psychiatrist, shrink, whatever the hell these punks are called nowadays looked me right in the eye about to ask a question and I swear if he asks me ‘how does that make you feel.’ He’s going to end up flat on his ass.

“Why do you believe you are having these dreams?” he asked instead much to my relief, his pen poised ready to write down my every word and judge me mentally unstable, just like everyone else.

I hated, with a fiery passion, psychiatrists. They really don’t have a single idea when it comes to the human psyche, there’s only One being that does and let’s just say the only instruction manual He’s handing out is in gibberish. So really there is no point for these “counselors” if all they can really do is spout out big words and show you flash cards smeared with ink, a worthless profession.

I again pinched the bridge of my nose, this time fighting off the migraine this twenty-something so-called “doctor” was giving me. I don’t even understand why I’m even here, I mean I get it I’m having nightmares, but doesn’t everyone in the whole wide world have nightmares, common what are the statistics on this bullshit.

“Why do you believe I am having these nightmares?” I countered, putting emphasis on the nightmare part since I was having a woman in my dreams trying to kill me and all. I believe that is considered a nightmare, there’s nothing happy-go-lucky about death, trust me. I’ve seen death first hand, there’s definitely nothing magical about death. Our lives are like candles, one quick breeze and we’re snuffed out forever. That’s the cold hard truth, something that I learned at a very young age, no one lives forever. 

The young therapist leaned forward pushing his glasses —that he probably thought made him look smarter and older, though they really didn’t— back up his long, lean nose. His pale, blue eyes pensive as he stared at me there was no doubt he was trying to make me feel uncomfortable and back down first.

The little shit should know that my being a Major in the United States Special Forces could never be intimidated by someone like him; it would be like the flame afraid of the moth; impossibly ridiculous.

The kid sat back in his oversized red leather reclining chair and began scrawling in his notebook. He paused every once in a while casting a glance at me, what should have taken him mere moments to write down was actually taking close to an hour. Though to me it didn’t matter how long he took, I was used to waiting. So I sat back against the couch, resting my elbow on the arm rest, crossing my ankle over my knee, trying not to bounce that knee in aggravation. It would only cause him to write down more in that damned notebook.

I could wait for the rest of our session for his questions if need be. It didn’t bother me at all to wait—well I wasn’t going to let him know that it drove me beyond crazy to wait for something as ludicrous as this.

Minutes pass by and my knee does start to bounce, though not loudly, yet. I’m positive that Dr. Vallowe wouldn’t even hear an atomic bomb go off, he’s so fixated on that damn notebook. He most likely wasn’t even writing anything of importance down unless you count the doodles of tits that were doubtless strewn across the pages. Something he knew nothing about since he was—oh around fourteen and liked the idea of playing doctor a phase children his age should have long grown out of.

Christ, I’m getting mental help from a kid who hasn’t been out of diapers — what less than a month? Fuck me.

“Actually I’m twenty-seven and have been out of diapers just as long as you have, maybe even longer since it seems my mentality is higher than yours. By the way of my mother taught me that if I didn’t have anything nice to say that I shouldn’t say anything at all.” The kid answered swiftly, flashing a smirk as he sat down his notebook.

“Touché,” I growled, finding it hard to swallow such a fat pill. “I hadn’t realized I said that out loud I—“

“No apologies Major, you don’t want to be here and find my profession to be a joke, I get it.” The doctor intervened. “It’s quite understandable considering the circumstances and all. I would be the exact same way if our places were switched.”

“If our places had been switched I would have knocked my ass out already.” I laughed, actually trying to get more comfortable in the leather couch.

“Touché,” the kid offered with a smile as he ran his hand through his scruffy blond beard. “Now it seems that we are even, shall we start anew?” he held out his hand an eager look in his cool blue eyes.

I sat up taking his hand, what could it hurt? We had fifteen minutes left, last I knew it took much longer than fifteen minutes for an intervention to work and I didn’t plan on coming back after this one visit.

His handshake was surprisingly different from when we had been first introduced by my commanding officer then it had been flimsy, weak. Now it was firm, solid and he wouldn’t let go.

I fought the unbelievable urge to struggle and pull back against his hold, he must have noted that in my posture but made no comment, he continued to hold true and steadfast.

“Major, why do you believe that you are here?” Dr. Vallowe asked finally letting go of my hand and clasping his long piano fingers around his knee. “As far as I am concerned you seem to be mentally stable for a man of your profession.”

I snorted. Why did therapist have to ask questions to which they already know? Was it just to further humiliate men who come to them for help?

“Well,” I started clearly done with this whole go to therapy thing; there was nothing here that this child could teach me that I didn’t already know. Dream or no dream. “To my knowledge waking up in the middle of the night screaming is not something they label as healthy and/or appropriate for a soldier in the armed forces, whether he is a cadet or someone who commands thousands.”

Never have I had such vivid and hellish nightmares before; never have any of my kills while serving my country bothered me, except now. I’ve never even killed a woman at that and now one is haunting me through my dreams trying to take her revenge out on me, and every time she keeps getting closer and closer.

The young doctor smiled and made another note. “Why a woman?” he asks.

My Lord and Savior hallowed be thy name, I wanted to groan. Again with the questions that he clearly knows I have no idea in hell as to what the answer may be.

Why a woman? He asks as if I really know the reason behind these nightmares and I’m just coming to hear his outstanding and intellectual advice just for the hell of it. Why the hell not? I sure as hell don’t dream about men that’s for sure.

“Maybe I find women to be intimidating. Maybe I have this crazy fantasy with a woman playing naughty little dominatrix sex games with me.”  I replied and he continued to scribble, though I doubted he believed a single word I just said.

“Did you recognize her?”

“No.” I answered curtly glancing at the clock, seven minutes exactly and then I’m free from “Dr.” Vallowe and his irrelevant questions that I’m sure took him hours to formulate in his pee sized brain.

“Did you find her attractive?” another smirk yet another reason why I wanted to knock his teeth out. I bet if the Doc ever dreamed about this woman he wouldn’t be laughing he would most likely be pissing his neatly pressed pants.

I paused, running her image through my head, though I should know her looks now by heart: long, wavy brownish red hair, raging blue eyes almost a deep purple in the light, the color of the richest sapphire. Small petite body, curvy in all the right places yet she had muscle in all the right places as well. A round childlike face, small pert nose, rosebud shaped lips the color of a carnation. She was angry, always very angry.

“Yes, I suppose I did find her somewhat appealing.” I lied, because I found her to be terribly sexy and a woman I would love to meet when she was feeling all hot and bothered, now that would be a story to tell all the boys back at base.

Dr. Vallowe scribbled once more and the shut the notebook, he set it on the mahogany coffee table in front of us and stood.

“Well I am sorry to say that our time is up, but I will recommend that you do come back every week to discuss if your dreams have changed whatsoever, until then I suggest that you try and get some much desired sleep one that won’t be haunted with dreams of ferocious women wanting to kill you, though I have no idea why a woman would want to do that.” He flashed me a smile leading me towards the door.

I paused in the doorway. “Besides getting sleep do you have any other recommendations doctor?”

He smiled again, his blue eyes mischievous, “Yes, I suggest that when you’re thinking you learn to do so in your head and not out loud, that sort of thing could land you in trouble.” With that he shut the door in my face.

“Therapists.” I scoffed, heading towards the elevators and out of the hell hole.