Page 35 of Marked for Desecration

I rolled Jordan’s body off the bed and kept him there. He was a little too big to roll beneath the frame. When I went out for fresh air and came back was when I saw the gift.

It was Jordan’s head, decapitated, with a bloody red bow tied around it right in the middle of my bed. The body was gone.

I had a sneaky suspicion I knew who my admirer was. Who else needed a body?

The blood farm was completed, and the humans resided behind the barbed wire fence. I stared at them through the upper-level window and continued to ponder why the Cromwell estate was such a pivotal spot for the Letos army. Spectres patrolled the area with one of them always making sure to touch a human every so often.

As a matter of fact, why was Ian always stationed at this damn house to watch over it? What was it about this place?

A breeze picked up and my hair stood on end. “I know you’re there.”

A hand touched my arm and disappeared.

I immediately turned to find nothing but the other wall of the hallway with stupid oil paintings of William. I leaned back against the windowsill on my arms, focusing on everything around me, seeing if I could catch this Infiltrator.

“Why do you hide your face?”

A soft grunt was the only thing I heard before one of the Spectres inside the home walked by and gave me a quizzical expression.

“What? You’ve never talked to yourself aloud before? Don’t be a fucking liar.”

He scowled and continued his patrol. I flipped him off and left my spot, heading down the stairs and toward the lower levels. It’s time I came face to face with the one teasing me while I’m left to rot in this forsaken estate.

It was probably Mother’s plan all along. To leave me here to die from constant childbirth.

If she wanted to fuck her way up, she could give them fucking children.

The coldness of the dungeons made me pause. There’s been no activity here, not for a while. Who's been feeding the humans?

“Where are you?”

Silence.

“I’m here alone.”

I walked forward into the darkness, past one room and into the next. A torch sat on the wall, flickering and casting dancing shadows.

“I thank you for the gifts. They’re just what every woman needs.”

A grunt echoed and my nipples peaked. I knew he was lurking.

“Why be shy with me now when we’ve shared so much already?”

Memories of Jordan fucking me down here while he watched made me scissor my legs. Seemed it was a christening of my marriage between me and the butcher rather than Jordan himself.

I bit my lip, mulling the idea over. It wouldn’t be so bad to have an executioner at my beck and call.

“Butcher, show yourself. I command you as the lady of the house.”

He appeared from the farthest corner, his shirt was off, displaying a grotesque, contorted body that was all wrong. Muscles in places they shouldn’t be. His face was still covered, and my curiosity itched at me like a rash.

I slowly approached him as if he was a skittish animal, because in all essence, he was.

He didn’t move. He didn’t disappear. He stared at me through the cut slits of the mask until I was toe to toe with him.

His breathing increased, his chest rising and falling faster, glistening under the torch’s flame.

There was blood splattered on his abs, the muscles there also twisted and gnarled.

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