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“Tell them they’re nothing compared to my precious treasure,” Hux instructs, scoffing at the notion we would find them more attractive than Violet. “Tell them they’re hags.” “Yeah, I’m not telling them that,” I reply back, hurrying away from the moaning women. “Tell them they're nothing compared to my Violet, and they should just kill themselves now to save me the trouble of doing it later,” Hux continues. See? Psychopath?
“He’s speaking nonsense. I fear he has no more use for my precious treasure,” Hux exclaims in my head. “Should I kill him?” For frick’s sake… “He’s broken,” Hux continues adamantly. Meanwhile, as if to prove my darker half’s point, Mason gets on his knees to serenade Violet who isn’t even present. I’m pretty sure he compares her butt to the “fleshiest moon that ever had babies.”
“Pinkie! Where o’where is thou Pinkie? My heart beats for thee Pinkie.” “Please let me kill him,” Hux deadpans. I shush him.
Girls, you’ll be lying if you say you never had a torture sex dream. Thirsty bitches, the whole lot of you. And yes, I’m calling you out soccer mom Shannon.
Don’t be difficult, she says. I’m going to murder you painfully, she says. Fuck her.
I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out earlier, sister.” Sister. I have a sister.
“You have attributes of a vampire, yes, but you’re not one. Maybe you’re a hybrid. I don’t know. All I know is that Dracula found you abandoned and took you in. Made you his. Even hired a witch to restrain your monster.”
“Don’t…” She coughs, blood cascading down her chin. A normal person would’ve comforted her in her final moments, but I’ve never been normal. I’m a monster. “Don’t trust your men,” she rasps at last.
“Don’t trust them.” Even in death, she’s still a cryptic bitch. “I need more than that.” I try to rein in my impatience. It’s not her fault she’s dying. “Who do you think I got the venom from?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” I hurry to defend. Dimitri smirks. “It looks like there’s a knife in your teacher’s chest, and you’re standing over her with a bruised face and blood on your hands.” “Oh.” I feel my insides twist in half a dozen knots. “Then it’s exactly what it looks like.”
“What are you doing?” I whisper, stunned. He flashes me a brilliant smile, showcasing two rows of perfectly white teeth and noticeable dimples. I hate that my heart stutters to a stop at being on the receiving end of such a smile. “Why, getting rid of fingerprints, of course.” He resumes his task, painstakingly slow.
I remove my bloody trench coat, not bothering to put it in the laundry basket. Knowing Dimitri, he’ll steal it when I’m asleep anyway.
“Why would you do all that for me? What makes me so special?” I ask, heart clenching. And then he says it. Compelled. In my room. “I think you’re my mate.”
Thou shall not think of cocks.
slowly. “Is that a normal thing? Do men of this time name their penises?” I blanch. “Dude, don’t say penises. It’s weird. Say cock or dick or Violet’s favorite word, Pickle Thumper.” Yeah, I’m an ass. Sue me. “Pickle Thumper.” His brows scrunch in confusion. “Jack is mentally shaking his head at me.”
“I’m going to sing,” I warn my companion. “Don’t you fucking dare—” “Pinkie, oh Pinkie! Love me with that Pinkie!”
“Let’s get to our girl.” Our girl. I kind of like the sound of that.
