Autopsy of a Fairytale (Autopsy of a Fairytale, #1)

by Nicole Scarano

At six foot one with curly brown hair and hazelnut eyes, thirty-five-year-old Garrett was storybook handsome, strong and soft and sweet around the edges,

“The killer knew how tall, how heavy and wide Lumen was. They also encased him in some of the most beautiful furniture I have ever seen, a piece Brett Lumen himself would strive to produce. A furniture designer entombed in the works he loved most.”

“It’s a rosebush,” Bel said, and Garrett looked at her with raised eyebrows. “The statue is a rosebush, and that’s not his heart. Those are rose petals.”

Death was a cruel and intoxicating master, enslaving not only its victims but also the living caught in its wake.

She was all darkness, and he was her light. She dwelled among the demons, but his smile was a gift from the angels.

“I didn’t know you could cook?” “I’m an excellent chef.” He puffed out his chest with exaggerated pride and stepped closer, grabbing her other hand. “Both of my parents worked, so I spent a lot of time with my grandmother, who believed life wasn’t worth living without good food. She taught me so that one day I could trick some girl into putting up with me.” He raised his eyebrows in a teasing expression.

Brett Lumen had been carved into a chandelier, turned into the furniture he cherished. Emily had been shaped into a spoon to stir the life-sized mug of coffee, becoming one with the liquid she claimed flowed through her veins instead of blood.

“Detective Emerson?” She should ignore him. She shouldn’t respond, but his orbit was impossible to escape, to resist, and Bel turned to face his hell black eyes. “Be careful.” He smirked, showing off those beautifully sharp teeth. “You never know what kind of predators are out here.”

“But I can assure you, Detective, I may be evil, but I am not the evil you’re hunting.”

“I may be evil, but I am not the evil you’re hunting.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Detective.” Bel froze as Eamon’s powerful voice echoed through the house, booming off the walls and slicing into her nerves. “You can’t hide from me, Detective. I can smell you.”

“I could arrest you for stalking a police officer.” “But you won’t, my little Detective. You like my eyes on you.”

“You’re a part of me now, and I will always be able to sense you. I can no more leave you than I could stop the sun from rising. No matter how far you flee, I will feel you. I cannot abandon you to suffer this life’s dangers. You are mine to protect.”