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“Black is suitable for every occasion.”
We were like two thorns of the same rose, an easy connection between us.
Phoebe radiated elegance and hospitality. My own aura had always been a bit unapproachable, maybe a bit macabre. It was not an issue personally, as I preferred some distance between myself and strangers. I already brought too much attention to myself by existing most days. When I thought about it, seeing what kind of characters dared to approach was amusing.
Explaining myself was exhausting. I would instead dumb it down to keep my peace.
le sigh, relateable
I preferred not to call them victims. They were anything but.
Someday maybe I would be as notorious as Giulia Tofana, but for now, it was between myself and the women who needed it most. Personal pleasures were like drying flowers, best kept away from the light to preserve their vibrance.
I wish I could say that I made that man suffer—that I put his hands in jars and severed the tongue from his mouth. Instead, I did something far worse. I did nothing.
There was no need to change out of funeral attire, as men die every day—a cause for celebration.
Black would always be fashionable, mourning or not. Plus, black tended to keep my interactions with people to a minimum, an added gratuity.
Removing the top, she revealed a generous amount of white snakeroot.
The elusive creature’s beauty was like a witch must have carved her out from an ancient forest, haunted by spirits of old and harboring centuries of secrets. Not to mention her…unique coloring. It was like someone had spilled refined sugar across ground charcoal. Accidental and one of a kind, too much of a shame to waste.
My father said unmarked hands were a sign of a man who had not worked for his achievements. He was most likely referring to a future husband, but I decided that it was a standard I wished to hold myself to as well.
A smoky scent surrounded me. The type of smoke that existed in aged whiskey barrels, exotic cigars, and men who ruin reputations.
The hairs on the back of my neck did not just stand, but wanted to rip themselves out of their cuticles and run for the hills.
At first, I was confused about why Alina would arm herself with just a mere needle. It was rather anticlimactic. It was only after the first few days that I realized she had attempted to poison me. Believe me when I say this woman gave me butterflies in my stomach. Though that might just be internal bleeding. Either way, she had charmed me.
Alina’s deadly nature allowed me some creative freedom now that I knew that my toy would not easily break.
While Alina was surely bright, she had the worst case of fixation I had ever seen. The minute she opened a book, it was like she disappeared—only a shell of a person. I nearly bumped into her several times. When passing her at the market, I even let her run into my shoulder. She said sorry and did not stop walking.
The peaceful expression on her face made it almost hard to believe she was capable of being a menace.
Humans were so obnoxiously delicate.
I had never been so intimate with death in my lifetime, and I did not intend on that kind of proximity again.
I was almost jealous of the clothing clinging to his body, though I was most jealous of that scarf around his neck—which I would love to replace with my hands.
How arrogant, the way he was so comfortable in a place he did not belong. Typical of a man.
“Sounds like a date.” “What?” “You heard me perfectly fine.” He winked, sliding me a calling card. “I try to kill you, and you take it as flirtation?”
“What in God’s name are you doing?” A look of genuine shock cut through his charade. “Don’t bring him into this. Show me where you hide your teeth.
I wanted to control whatever might move her. Every inflection, tension, or release. Every push and pull. Every drop of blood or tears. No exceptions. It would all belong to me. But for tonight, she earned some peace.
If I found that even a hair had been plucked from her head, I would be removing his heart and keeping it in a jar on my desk. It would make for a perfect paperweight.
“You are a fiend,” I hissed, yanking the cab door closed. “Only for you.” He shrugged.
The Poisoner Who Poisoned Herself. I could see it on the headstone now.
That glimmer of curiosity was always brighter than her facade, possibly the only honest thing about her.
He had never left me with an entire body before. Burying it whole would be cumbersome. The appendages would find a home fertilizing my hydrangeas.
The blade smacked into the wood of the wall next to his head as I turned the corner. His eyes were wide. I might have actually caught the elusive Creature off guard. He glanced at the axe and then back at my face. Genuine surprise. “Marry me,” he breathed.
“Blood is blood.” He smirked. “I will take anything you give me—
She would make the most beautiful apparition, already haunting every corner of my mind.
My urge to rip her apart faded every day I pursued her, but I was sure her urge to dissect me and jar my insides grew in tandem.
I would bother her, but she was so bewitching like this—absorbed in herself, confident enough not to flee, but intelligent enough to have several weapons hidden on her person no doubt.
I wanted to hear you dedicate your cruel words only to me. I didn’t care if you were yelling at me, screaming at me, telling me no…as long as it was for me. Soon, I didn’t want you to leave. When I was away, you danced around my mind like a man’s deepest regret, ferocious and intoxicating. You want to know what I want? I want you, Alina. All of you. Every hair on your head, every tear, laugh, and scream that rips from your delicate vocal cords will all become mine
“I want to taste every venomous word performed by your lips until you have to invent new ones just for me.”
“How often do I get to see you? Under this proposed deal, of course.” He stood from the desk. I retreated farther. “Once a week.” “Seven days a week.” He advanced. “Twice a week.” Another step back. “Four.” “Three. I can’t bear to see you more than that.” My back hit the wall. “I can work with three.”
“Cyanide? Really?” He tsked as if I should know better. “You have to at least admire my persistence.” I shrugged.
Maybe I would have felt threatened if this were weeks ago, but his presence now was different. Like a crackling bonfire. Dangerous—but oh so warm
How ironic that the only man who could comfort an aching soul like me would be the worst one I knew.
“I will not forgive you if you die without my permission,”
It was not natural to feel this for the person capable of killing you.
and yet...
She was like a comet that appeared only every hundred years, fierce, bright, and devastating to anything in its way.
“I have never seen someone look at something as wretched as me only to be left in awe,” he whispered as he rested his forehead against mine. “For that reason, your eyes will always be precious to me, in any form. I want nothing more than to climb inside your skull and see the world as you do.”
I looked at the world with endless awe and romanticism, but I had never considered that someone could look at me the same way—to be someone’s unknown, begging to be explored. That someone could take delight in piecing together my very being.
“You don’t think it would be bad for your reputation?” “You’re intelligent, a uniquely skilled killer, and beautiful beyond my wildest imagination. I think you would be good for my bloodline.”
He pulled me out the door and ventured down to the pond, away from prying eyes. “Now I understand what it is to become obsessed, devoted to possessing someone. Enough to fight the urge to lock you away so no one can set wandering eyes on you again.”
“I want all of you, not just blood. I want every piece of flesh that clings to your bones and more. I want to own every expression that crosses that pretty face. Every hair on your head belongs to me, no part of it untouched by my hands.”
“You get that light in your eyes whenever you look at something you’re curious about. I wanted to see more of it.” He shrugged. “You belong here, not in a stuffy house surrounded by people who don’t understand you.”
