Page 43 of Shadows in Bloom

When he steps back, I do a quick scan of him, checking for blood.

“I’m safe, love, I’m okay,” he says, his tone reassuring, but he’s not oblivious to my true concern. “The fishing and camping store on Laurimar Road burned down earlier,” he says with a shake of his head. “Five people died.” He watches me closely, gauging my reaction.

Deep down, I know he orchestrated the fire and revelled in their screams as they burned alive. And while my heart aches with what I already know, there’s nothing I can do except feign a calm façade and pretend I’m not screaming on the inside for Jordan’s family’s business. I don’t know how Salem found out about him. We were so careful. I warned him about trusting strangers, or letting anyone know we were together.

Averting my gaze, I ask, “Five people?” It’s a foolish question. Salem would have known exactly how many people were inside, and who they were. He would have set that fire and watched them burn. And just as the firefighters arrived, he would have run into that burning building, grabbed the closest person, and dragged them to what they believed was safety.

They’ll be dead by sunset tomorrow.

Salem Frost is insane. He’s not just an arsonist, he’s a pyromaniac with a sadistic streak a mile long. And no one can stop him.

I should know because I’ve tried.

And I have the scars to prove it.

As images of burning bodies consume my mind, Salem slams me into the wall. With one hand around my throat, he pulls his knife from its sheath and presses the tip to my jaw.

“Enough about burning buildings and dead bodies,” he says with cool indifference. “I picked up some dinner on my way home, but you were gone.” He presses a kiss to the side of my mouth. “I was worried about you, my love. I know it’s been days since you had a decent meal.” My body trembles as the sharp sting of his knife cuts into my cheek. He traces the wound with his tongue before stepping back with a smirk. “Let me feed you.”

I nod as Salem tucks his knife into the sheath on his belt then takes my hand. He kisses the back of my hand before he leads me into the kitchen and pulls a chair out for me, gesturing for me to sit.

Knees shaking, I take a seat at the beautiful, antique dining table, cursing my stomach for rumbling at the scent of the food that will be forced down my throat if I don’t eat it willingly.

Dread pools in my gut as Salem uses an ornate, silver serving fork to place three thin slivers of rare meat on my plate, followed by a few pieces of potato and some carrots.

He reaches over and pours a glass of red wine for me, and I inhale, holding my breath and counting to ten in my head before I finally exhale and close my eyes. All I need to do is get through this meal without gagging, vomiting, or showing any hint of disgust.

“Eat, my love,” Salem says, as he brings his own fork to his mouth and chews on the tender, sliced meat.

I poke my fork into a carrot and chew it slowly, savouring the taste of the vegetable while Salem stares at me intently. “You don’t like your meat?” he asks, head tilted, brows narrowed in feigned confusion.

I swallow the carrot, move my fork towards the meat, and slowly stab the thin sliver before I bring it to my lips. Bile rises in my throat, but I ignore it, my eyes only on Salem as I place the meat on my tongue, chew, then swallow.

A wide smile stretches across Salem’s face, his eyes alight with sick, depraved pleasure. “Isn’t it lovely?” he asks.

“Who is it?” the words spill from my mouth before I can stop them, because I know—I know with one hundred percent certainty, I’m eating someone from the camping store I’d been working at for the past six months.

Salem doesn’t falter. He pops another piece into his mouth, and chewing crudely, he says around a mouthful, “Jordan.”

My stomach lurches.

I don’t get to stand before the contents of my stomach are forced from my mouth onto the hardwood floor.

Salem’s chuckle is all I hear as my stomach continues to spasm. Tears flow freely from my eyes. Pain lances my chest as every moment I shared with Jordan flickers through my mind. I should have known better. I should have stayed away from his kind smile and those bright, blue eyes.

I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth and stand slowly, blinking back my tears. When I turn to face Salem, he’s still smiling as he licks spicy mustard from his fingertips.

Blinded by rage, I lunge, screaming and clawing at his face as I punch him over and over and over. It’s not until I’m straddling his chest that I finally take a breath and look down at his face. A serene expression is all I see staring back at me. He doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t make an attempt to push me off of him.

He just smiles like the fucking psychopath he is. Reaching down, I feel around his side for his knife, grab the handle, and draw it from its sheath.

Still nothing.

No reaction.

Just that sadistic smile and those cold, dark eyes that stare up at me as though he knows I won’t end his life.

“I hate you,” I grit out, but the words are bitter on my tongue. Lies I tell myself every time I fall deeper into Salem’s world. “I hate you,” I say again, softer this time.

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