Page 32 of When Night Falls

I grabbed him by the back of his neck and reared his head back, violently bouncing it off the tiled wall before shoving his bloody head under the water in the bathtub. I’m sure he was dead with the impact of his head being beaten against the wall, really. But the drowning made it look more accidental.

Deep maroon mixed with the crystal blue of the water, almost creating a vibrant purple in the waves that still clashed against the tub from the impact of me shoving him under. The painting before me was rather masterful if I had to say so myself.

Before leaving, I took a hard glance at my reflection in the mirror. I noticed the color change in my eyes and recognized that the smell of blood filled up my nostrils in intense waves as my cravings grew. So, I reached down and swiped at the wound on his head with my thumb and pulled it to my lips, reveling in the taste of satisfaction and death before disappearing off into the night. But I don’t say any ofthatpart to Lucynda.

As I look down at her, I see relief, fascination, and slight terror swirl in her glass-like eyes. Her breathing is labored, either from a rise in adrenaline or from the fear of being so close to a killer. But killing a potential rapist shouldn’t scare her. Her life here with me should.

“Talk to me,” I say to her but without command. I am putting on quite the show for her. Or maybe I'm putting on a show for myself. I normally wouldn't have found myself needing or wanting to entertain more than a swift compulsion of obedience leading to the start and end of my plans.

But I crave her attention and feel bound to my obsession with her even if it’s not something I had planned to indulge in.

I’ve still got her caged in against the wall. Her chest is rising hard with her hyper fixated breaths and the chills that presentthemselves along the curve of her breasts fill me with a thirst I need to quench soon. I can’t control myself around her and it’s getting harder to fight. When she's sweet and calm, I feel guilt and a weakness that dares to break free if only to be soft with her for just a moment. When she fights back and shows her anger, it turns me on and makes me impetrate wicked things. Either way, I know I can't slip up no matter what side she shows me. I have to remain composed.

“I-” She doesn’t know what to say. I could take her thoughts from her, but I chose not to as she’s been such a good girl trying her best to keep herself obedient for me while I explain to her my need for her.

I can’t help it when I feel desire and lust radiate from her, confirming that she isn’t horrified or frightened that I am a murderer after all, at least of the monster who dare attempt to ruin her.

My heart starts to pick up the pace of its beating as I hear the pound of hers in her chest. Lucynda is way too fucking pretty to be left alone with a darkness like mine. I could ravage her right now seeing how vulnerable she is.

“You,” she starts to speak up, our bodies breathing closely together. “You killed my father . . . for me?” Her voice quakes in an unguarded tone, showing just how liable she is to be corrupted if only to understand how one would do something of any magnitude to benefit her.

I brush the hair out of her face with the back of my fingertips, careful not to touch too much of her for my own sake. The light in her eyes sparkles even in the shadows I have us confined too. I move my finger to her scar again, and her breath hitches, a shudder falling over her body as I skim the marking that was born in blood, hatred etched in its edges but power bound in its beauty.

I lean down to her, allowing my lips to get as close to hers as possible before I start to feel her push away. The pulse of need shatters inside of me, the bloodlust raging inside as I dare to tempt the line I know I shouldn’t cross.

“I killed your father for you, Lucynda. And I’d do it again. Over and over again until all of the rivers on this Earth ran red with the blood of your enemies, only for you.” My promise flits off my tongue, unaware at first of how vulnerable I have just made myself, and to a girl who might not even accept my offer of marriage let alone return my passionate need.

But do I truly care if my desires are reciprocated by her? Wouldn’t it be easiest if she felt numb to this whole agreement. Or am I simply a fool for considering the fact that I might actually be able to deny her in all of this. I can’t help but feel the strength of her call to me, my call to her. And she will have my respect no matter the outcome of our arrangement; I’ll make sure no one else is privileged enough to cause her any harm. But my intentions start to blur as I let the scent of her rosy venom take over my senses, her eyes roaming over every inch of my body.

For a second, I let my mind slip into hers and without volition, I get a glimpse of a thought running loose in that pretty head of hers, a vision of us kissing flashes in her eyes and I fear I can’t control the act.

But before I have time to decide if it's right or wrong, Lucynda reaches up on her toes and wraps her hands around the back of my neck. She pulls me down to her and though I know I should fight off her attempt, Iphysicallycan't and it's too late.

Lucynda's lips crash against mine in a kiss so powerful, it makes my heart stop. Her body tenses and I can’t make out if it’s from surprise, enjoyment, fear or all of the above. But that in itself is what ignites a flame that can’t be put out.

Her kiss seeps its way into my soul like a poison ivy, wrapping its tendrils around the chambers of my heart, caging it in when it begs to burst. When I am able to gain control, I force myself to pull away. I open my eyes to observe her reaction, but she keeps her body still, her breathing shallow, and her eyes closed.

I let myself lean back just a little and that’s when all hell breaks loose.

"You shouldn't have fucking done that," I warn her with a fierce, guttural tone. My fingertips brush against my lips as I feel my eyes darken and something visceral flashes through me.

“I'm sorry.” She shakes her head of the connection she'd made and pushes me back with her palms flat on my chest. I allow the contact to do it’s intended job, falling back out of line as I watch her storm off.

"Fuck,"I say under my breath.

I made a fucking mistake. I allowed myself to feel the tether in its entirety and I found a moment of reprieve when I infiltrated her thoughts. I allowed the lust to take over and accepted her gesture. I could lose everything I’ve been working toward if I continue to let some injudicious lore-induced infatuation infiltrate my head like that.

I allow Lucynda the idea that she’s escaping before I materialize right in front of her. She made it halfway down the driveway, and before she can comprehend what is happening, I snatch her up by the shoulders and push her up against the nearest tree trunk. The sun has now made it up into the lower parts of the sky.

“Stop!” She swats her hands at me as she works hard for air. “Get away from me!” I don’t think she realizes that the fighter in her makes me ravenous.

I grab her wrists and hold them up above her head, exposing myself to the kicks she’s attempting to land.

“Lucynda,” I whisper, knowing that she’ll hear me and listen if I resort to a familiar coping mechanism she’s grown to need, something that won’t have much of an effect after the binding of marriage.

It's not a full compulsion, but rather a feather of control that I plant in her skull, and it only works if she wants it to. And I know that she wants it to, because she's allowed it this entire time; her broken and damaged pieces cling to the idea of having something tangible to grasp onto.

Her body seems to visibly relax, reacting to my voice.