Marrow

by Trisha Wolfe

I am the sun whose light reflects on his cold, remote mask. And I am the celestial fire that will destroy him.

What could’ve happened to a girl like Kyrie to turn her into a killer? Women serial killers are a rare breed, rarer even than duos.

“If I wanted to seduce you, I’d have you on your knees right now in the cold room with that treacherous little mouth of yours wrapped around my cock, begging me for more,” he whispers.

“You’re not a girl,” I say, my tone bordering on lethal. “You’re an irritating inconvenience that is begging to have her ass reddened.” Her pupils dilate. “And don’t you just hate how much that excites you.”

This entire time, she wasn’t dead. She’s not the dead one at all. She’s been what’s sustained me here. She’s the marrow. She’s my marrow. Kyrie didn’t start as a killer—she was made.

And I helped make her.

But the decisive difference is that I wouldn’t just kill for Kyrie—I would give my life. Hell, I’d even let her take it.

“But look around you, lille mejer. You are not unwanted. You are not alone. You are unique.” Jack bends his head until his eyes are level with mine and I have no choice but to meet their sharpened determination. “You are a bright and blinding light in the dark. Luminous. And I’m sorry I made you feel like anything less than that.”

“Jeg vil være alt for dig, elskede,” he says, and then presses his lips to mine.

Creatures designed like us were not meant to bask in the light for long. Where we lurk, the darkness always finds us. This is the design. Yet, with Kyrie, there are exceptions to the rule. She is my exception. She is my light.

And I will forever protect her light against the darkness.