Page 52 of Grave Intentions

“No, I haven’t heard anything since he went out Friday night,” she says, pacing by her window. “I thought he was just staying at Mark’s place, but when he didn’t come home yesterday...” Her voice catches. “I’m really getting worried.”

I slip deeper into the shadows as a police cruiser approaches her building. Two officers step out, notepads ready. Lena meets them at the door, wringing her hands—another nice touch.

Through my scope, I watch her invite them inside. She sits primly on the edge of the couch, eyes wide and innocent, as she recounts the story we crafted. David went out drinking with friends. He never came home. There were no calls or texts after his brief text to Lena. It is so unlike him to disappear without a word.

The cops take notes and ask routine questions. When was the last time she saw him? Did they have any fights recently? Has he ever disappeared before? Lena answers each one perfectly,revealing enough anxiety to be believable while maintaining composure.

I have to stay away now. Let the investigation run its course. But watching her perform for them, I know I chose well. She’s mine in every way that matters. The darkness in her matches my own.

One of the officers places a comforting hand on her shoulder. My fingers twitch, wanting to break each digit for daring to touch her, but I remain still and patient. This is all part of the plan.

The police leave after taking her statement. Lena closes the door behind them and sinks against it, shoulders slumping. Even from here, I can see this performance’s toll on her. But she’ll endure it. She’s stronger than she knows.

I’ll keep my distance, watching over her from the shadows while she plays her part. The grieving fiancée is worried sick about her missing husband-to-be. If only they knew the truth—that she’s always belonged to me. And that sad son of bitch took his last breath while he tried to rape my precious girl and bled out on the floor of the apartment.

I text her burner phone, my fingers tapping out a quick message: “Cemetery. Midnight. Come alone.”

Her response is immediate: “Why there?”

“It’s a surprise. Trust me.”

I can picture her biting her lip, weighing the risks. But I know she’ll come. The darkness in her calls to mine.

“Ok. Midnight,” she replies.

I smile, tucking the phone away. My revenge on that piece of shit David isn’t complete yet. Killing him was just the start. He needs to understand, even in death, that Lena was never his. She will never be his.

I want to claim her over his grave, mark her as mine where his rotting corpse lies eight feet below. Let his spirit watch as Itake what he thought belonged to him. The thought makes my cock throb with anticipation.

The hours crawl by until midnight approaches. I pace between the headstones, the moonlight casting long shadows across the grass. This spot where he’s buried is perfect—secluded enough that no one will interrupt us.

Footsteps crunch on gravel. Lena appears through the darkness, wearing a black dress that makes her look like a gothic angel. My angel of death.

“You came.” I reach for her hand, pulling her close.

“Of course I did.” She swallows hard. “Now tell me why we’re here.”

I lead her to David’s fresh grave, unmarked still since his body won’t be found. “Because our revenge isn’t complete yet, precious girl. Not until I fuck you right here, over his worthless corpse.”

I trace my finger along Lena’s jawline as she stares at me, shock evident in her widened eyes. Her pulse races beneath my touch, a mix of fear and desire.

“You think I’m crazy.” I press my lips to her neck, breathing in her scent. “But deep down, you feel it, too. That darkness inside you, begging to be set free.”

“This is insane,” she whispers, but her body betrays her, leaning into my touch. “We can’t—not here.”

“We can. We will.” My hands slide down her sides, gripping her hips. “Stop fighting what you are, precious girl. I’ve seen the shadows in your eyes when you thought no one was looking.”

Her breath catches as I nip at her throat. “Talon...”

“Remember how good it felt when he died? When his blood spilled across the floor?” I press against her, letting her feel how hard I am. “You weren’t disgusted. You were relieved. Excited even.”

“That’s not—” She starts to protest, but I silence her with a kiss, rough and demanding.

“Don’t lie to me.” I break away, staring into her eyes. “Don’t lie to yourself. The darkness has always been there, waiting. Just like I’ve been waiting.”

My hand tangles in her hair, tugging her head back. Her resistance wavers, and her body softens against mine. I can feel her walls crumbling, that carefully maintained facade of normalcy starting to crack.

“Let go,” I whisper against her skin. “Let me show you how beautiful the darkness can be.”

---