Page 20 of Last Breath

He lifts his e-cig. “Care to join me?”

Taken aback by the request, I say, “Yeah…sure.”

Walking out the back, the fireflies dance in my garden, and the crickets chirp so loud, their song outplays Gran’s record. Closing the door quietly, I’m enamored by the outline of Salem in the moonlight. Both men are at least six feet tall, making my five nine comfortable. I’m not thin by any means, and you’d think with the rationed food that I could be. Looking at him, though, his svelte frame, angular chest and trimmed arms, I find his body near perfect. He’s beautiful. They’re beautiful.

“Do you like Mal, Joy?”

“He’s nice.”

Taking a drag off his e-cig, the light in it illuminates his eyes. “I heard his request of you. Did you consider it?”

I don’t want to admit it aloud, but yes, I did.

“I’m gonna be straight, Joy. When we came here covered in blood, you let us in…” Pausing, he takes another drag off his machine and steps closer. “You didn’t call the police.” Reaching out, he gently touches my cheek. “You’ve walked around with dried blood on your face. Your Gran shot me.” Peeling his sleeve up, he shows me the stained bandage. “And you had a chance, Joy. Why didn’t you tell us to leave at gunpoint?”

Moving in closer, Salem steps up the stairs where I’ve been leaning against the back wall. Even in the dim light, I see the madness in his eyes. It calls to me. “I think youmorethan considered what Mal asked you.” Pocketing his e-cig, Salem taunts me like Malachi did. “Will you leave the door open?” Coming closer, he leans in to brush his lips against my cheek. “Or will you lock it?”

Chapter 11

Joy

Less than twelve hours ago, I would’ve looked for any excuse to change my life, my incarceration—my monotony.

Now? Shit.

Walking away from me, starting back inside the house, Salem leaves me alone with the lingering question. Considering the options set ahead of me, I’m coming up short for what should be an easy answer.

No, it should be a definitive no. Though I address the pros and cons.

The house does get cold. The drafts are strong and the windsdohowl. Company would be great.

But they’re strangers.

I condemn myself for even thinking it. “Why am I even considering this? Why am I considering sleeping with two strangers?Twostrangers that broke into my house not three hours ago.”

I should be saying no. There should be no question in my mind what the right answer is. The trouble is, there’s a nagging part of me that wants andneedsto say yes to their request.

Salem with his dark hair, brilliant eyes and silent perfection creates a dangerous predator. His exterior exudes beauty, but his insides are darker than thick oil. He comes across as highly intellectual. I think his brilliance is a part of his madness.

Like an author sees the story build, or a mathematician sees the whole sum of a problem, I think he sees beauty in death. Something about him tells me that he needs and requires the darkness of it.

When he’d burst through the door behind Malachi covered in gore and blood, surprisingly, I didn’t find myself afraid, I was intrigued. Strangely, I wasn’t afraid of Malachi either. Mostly I was taken aback by their audacity to assume they were allowed to waltz right in.

My original assumptions about the two men were off. Even though Malachi may seem rough on the exterior, he is definitely saner than Salem. He’s more in control of his tendencies.

I think?

When Gran shot Salem, I anticipated and expected death.

Ours.

Malachi had subdued Salem somehow. There was still a fire to cause mayhem, but it was settled. In a wicked and malicious way, I want see the beast let loose, to see the damage it could cause. It would only take a single match strike to set that fire ablaze. Horrifically, happily, I want to see it. I want to see the real Salem. I want to stroke the beast and let it off the chain.

Why am I so happy to let it loose?

For years I’ve been trapped, chained to Gran, to my mother, and all of her sick ‘boyfriends’ that graced our house over the years. I’ve been a slave to those that decided my fate. Maybe what I’m really looking for is what they offer me—freedom. They offer me my own soulful release.

I want let off the chain. I want destruction.

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