How They Met - part 1

He was perfect.

I could see it in his eyes as he moved so fluidly on the dance floor. His body seemed to be connected directly to the music; he never missed a beat, slowed a move, or lost that serious, focused look on his face.

He and the music were one. There could not be one without the other.

Nor could there be me without him.

His eyes finally focused on mine, and that telltale smile spread across his gorgeous features. That smile was for me, and me alone, and I knew it. I loved it.

Every tooth was pearly white, his smile reaching his eyes. Hell, he smiled with all of his features, a true sign of how genuine his feeling was. He didn't smile for show. He smiled to express joy, and god dammit, he would mean it.

His hips rolled once, twice, then he offered his hand to me, beckoning me in. He knew I couldn't dance, but he didn't care. He wanted me out there with him, at the attention of everyone in the club. And yet, even though I knew I would be embarrassed, I didn't care.

He wanted me, so I would go to him.

His hand was warm and dry in mine as he pulled me close, pulling our hips tight together, rolling them to match the music. His forehead pressed to mine, those bright blue eyes locked on my features as he guided me to dance.

Even now, after so long, I found myself flushing at the intensity of his stare. Those blue eyes were so intense, so beautiful it took my breath away. His heavy eye makeup only added to their beauty, and he knew it too.

Hell, he knew how absolutely gorgeous he was.

He knew his body was sculpted to a perfection that God would be jealous of. He knew that his eyes were more intense than the sun's rays, capable of stopping anyone in their tracks. He knew his movements called to the body more lusts than ever thought possible.

He knew it and he used it.

The only thing that he excelled at more than his beauty was his intelligence. He was the smartest damn man I knew. Hell, he was even smarter than me. He was witty and sarcastic, but intelligent beyond all else.

He was a perfect man, with a shaved head, beautifully sculpted lips and everything else that made a man ideal.

Except for the whole serial killer part.

His fingers were rough as they tucked a strand of my short hair behind my ear, as he pulled me close to kiss me with those glorious lips. I gave in to the kiss completely, letting him have me at his will.

"You belong to me," he mumbled against my lips, "And I belong to you."

"Yes," I murmured back. "Yes."

It that moment, I remembered how we first met. Officially, face to face.

He had held a gun, but it had never been pointed in my direction.

"I love you. I always have. Be with me forever." That was what he had said to me, such a pleading, frightened look in his eyes.

A beautiful, absolutely stunning man was asking me, of all people, to be with him. For a moment, my stupid mind ignored the gun and I was flattered, blushing. But then I remembered my job and my current situation.

It was my job to catch a man that had killed over 40 people in the last two months, and here he was, standing before me, pledging his love. He had killed to get closer to me, the psychiatrist assigned to psychoanalyze the murderer i.e. him.

I had refused him them, saying I'd rather die than be with a man that had killed so many. But he was determined. He captured me, kept me like a pet. He fed me and bathed me and made sure I had every luxury possible; even fresh air and sunlight. But I had hated him for it. I begged him to kill me. I asked him why he hadn't raped me yet.

"I'm a psycho killer, not a psycho rapist," he had said with a laugh.

I wanted him to get rid of me. I couldn't stand the idea that i had been outsmarted by a killer. So I tried to make myself less attractive to him.

I had had long, flowing black hair, wild and free and beautiful. While he had me captured, I hacked it off raggedly, short in some places, long in others. Yes, I was certain that he would hate it, hate me, and get rid of me by an means possible. Even death seemed better than being trapped like a rat.

Unfortunately…

He'd loved it.

"It's so short!" He whispered, petting it softly, like one would pet a favorite pet. "It looks lovely on you."

I had nearly screamed with rage. I had loved my hair, but I sacrificed it in an attempt to rid me from him. It didn't work, so my hair had been taken from me for no reason. Damn it all.

"Come back, Radsuinda. Come back to me."

I giggled, pressing my palms to his chest. "Sorry. I was daydreaming."

He smiled right back, nuzzling my temple. "About what?"

"How we met."

"Ah yes. I remember then. It was so long ago."

"Very long." I kissed his lips softly, lingering against their wonderful softness. "But who cares to remember? All we should care about is the present."

"Indeed. And I do. But I wonder about the future too."

"I'm yours, Drex. Always and forever."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "And I'm yours, Radsuinda Maaier."

"Radsuinda Zanik, you mean."

"Yes. My mistake."


I was in love with a psychopath that had killed to get close to me, then kidnapped me. He held me prisoner for 4 months before I gave in to Stockholm's Syndrome and fallen in love with him. It has been a year since that moment. So, in total, counting the months I worked on his case, I have known Drex Zanik for a year and a half.

He has known me for 15 years. I am 20 years old.

I had been in the newspaper when I was younger, in a report about child geniuses. He is 29 now, so he had been 14 when he first heard of me, when he fell in love with me. He just said that we were meant to be, end of story. And I believed him now.

Drex Zanik is a dancer, a lover, a singer, a guitar player, a flirt, a murderer, an arsonist, a sadist, a genius, an artist.

And he was mine.

Radsuinda Maaier is a psychiatrist, a lover, a listener, a talker, a recluse, a savior, a genius, an artist.

We were made for each other. My job was meant to catch those who commit crimes, and his job was meant to make crimes. Inexplicably, we had found each other, and we weren't about to let go.

I am in love with a serial killer.

And I couldn't be happier.