Page 109 of Carnival Mayhem

Nash runs his hands through his hair, his breath slowly returning to normal. “That was definitely one for the record books.”

I chuckle, pressing a final kiss to the curve of Flora’s neck. “You can say that again.”

She shifts in our arms, turning her head to meet my eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, and her hair is sweaty, but she’s never looked more beautiful. I brush a strand of hair behind her ear, unable to resist the pull I feel toward her.

“You okay, angel?” I ask softly.

“I’m definitely more than okay,” she says, touching my cheek. Nash steps up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist. Their blood-spattered bodies lean against each other, and for a moment, it’s just us three, lost in the bubble of our shared passion.

But then reality creeps back in. I survey the room, taking in the mangled body of our victim. We’ve all been here before—the adrenaline, the blood, the sex. Cleaning up and disposing of the body is routine, but that doesn’t make it any less necessary.

With a soft sigh, Flora extricates herself from Nash’s embrace and begins gathering her clothes. I hear the soft sounds of fabric rustling and zippers being pulled as she and Nash put their clothes back on.

“You’re beautiful,” Nash says softly, his voice laced with affection. Flora pauses, and I can almost feel the warmth of his words from across the room.

“Thanks,” she replies, her voice sounding small. “I must be a sight, all covered in blood.”

I turn back to see her reaching up to touch her cheek, her eyes reflecting the turmoil I feel inside. I’ve learned that conflict intimately—the desire and disgust that bubbles up after a kill. It’s a mark of our shared darkness, a strange shame that sits uncomfortably alongside the thrill of taking a life.

I cross the room to stand behind her, touching her shoulders. Together, we look in the mirror at our reflection—three killers covered in the blood of our victim.

“We’re fucked up,” Flora says softly, her eyes meeting mine in the reflection.

“Yeah, we are,” I reply, stepping closer so our bodies are pressed together. Her warmth seeps into me, chasing away the chill that always follows a kill. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She turns in my arms, her eyes searching mine. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Nash steps up beside us, his eyes raking over us with heated intent. “You know we’re just getting started, right?”

Flora’s eyes widen, and she bites her lip, but the spark of desire I see there tells me everything I need to know.

We’re fucked up, all right. Maybe even beyond saving. But in that moment, standing in a grimy warehouse, covered in blood and sweat, I wouldn’t change a thing. Not as long as I have Nash and Flora by my side.

I lean down, capturing Flora’s lips in a searing kiss. Nash joins us, his hands tangling in her hair as he pulls her closer. Our shared obsession consumes us once again, the memory of our kill only adding fuel to the fire.

The violence we just inflicted, the blood we wear like war paint, only serves to heighten our desire. We’re monsters, through and through, and we crave this darkness together.

And in that warehouse, bathed in the afterglow of violence and passion, I know we’re exactly where we’re meant to be.

---