Page 23 of Last Breath

Jumping up so fast, Salem slams me against the wall before I can blink, his eyes deadly. “She was an evil woman, Joy, you know it. You just don’t want to admit it. I did you a favor. Now you’re free.”

Slamming my hands against his chest, pounding with all my might, I’m screaming as tears stream down. “I didn’t ask to be freed! I didn’t ask to be released! Did I say that to you? Did I tell you that I wanted you in my house, eating my food and killing my family?”

Gripping my arms, holding them at my sides, his face is the perfection of calm. “Joy, you don’t belong here. This isn’t where you belong. I know that.”

“You know nothing. Nothing at all, Salem!”

“Oh, I see you, Joy.” He laughs. “You hide in the role of caregiver all because you’re afraid to leave. You’re afraid to take what you want, even when you know it’s needed.” Stroking a finger down my cheek, dragging a bloody line from my eye to my chin, he continues. "You’re not a fairy tale. Your sweet heart and kindness isn’t true, Joy. I see it. You want the dark, the danger, and mysterious edge we offer.”

Struggling against his iron hold, I rail against the truth he tells. And once I’m free of his grip, I’m shoving this knife deep in his chest. I’ll watch the blood leak out of him.

I’ll smile at his death.

“You know what, Salem? I don’t think you see anything other than death. Can you see past the red that clouds your sight? The blood that taints your soul? I see you too. I see the darkness. Death hangs from your soul like a shroud, so it has me wondering…does it feel good? Is it a welcome friend?”

“Yes, it is. It’s been there even when I didn’t want it. Death is inevitable and necessary. Without it, we’re just plodding along like nothing ends. Life has to have an end.” Quietly, he says, “Her life was your death. Her death means your life.”

His voice is still and without inflection, calm and unwavering. It deflates my fight slightly because he’s right. His assessment is so perfect that I’m afraid of what else he sees. Does he see I’m needy, that I’m aching for human contact? God, I hope not.

Raising my arm that holds the knife, Salem puts it directly in front of my face. “Do you see it? Do you smell it? Can you taste it? Your freedom was on the hilt of that knife. You just had to grab it. Now it’s yours, Joy. Embrace it.” Setting the knife on the counter behind me, he releases my other hand.

Cupping my face with his blood-soaked palms, Salem smooths the liquid across my cheek. Smearing it down my chin and across my lips, he moves it away to kiss me. His lips are soft, and even though it may seem sick to some that I’m kissing the killer of my grandmother, I melt into his touch. His hands search out my body, pulling at the nape of my neck, engaging me in a way I would never have expected.

“Ahem. Excuse me, you two, but it’s time we hit the road. Is there anything you’d like to bring, Joy?”

Stepping back slightly, realizing I’ve been caught kissing Salem in a blood-soaked room, I venture a gaze at Malachi. He’s smiling as he leans on the screen door.

“I’m not coming with you. I can’t.”

“Why not? Give us a good reason why?” Malachi asks, crossing his arms and smirking devilishly. “Oh! Are those your famous scrambled eggs, Sal?” Stepping inside the room, traipsing right through the blood, Malachi lifts forkful after forkful of the soft yellow goo to his mouth.

Thinking up the best excuse I can, I say, “I have to wait for the police to tell them what happened. I need to bury my grandmother. I need to clean this up.”

Malachi shakes his head. “Nope. None of those are good ideas. All those thoughts lead to jail.”

“Why me? I didn’t kill her.”

“Your prints are on the knife, Joy. You pulled it from her chest, remember?” Salem deadpans, stealing the toast before Malachi can grab it up.

“But I didn’t kill her. They’ll believe me.”

“Sorry, but they won’t. It’s airtight. It’s your prints and you have the motive. You’ve been her caregiver for years. You had a driving need to end your imprisonment. Open and shut case I’m afraid.”

I try to switch tactics. “Why would you want me around anyway? I heard you two last night. I’m not your type.”

Pushing away from the table, spilling all the contents into the disaster on the floor, including my grandmother’s body, Malachi’s in front of me in seconds. Pressing his lips to mine, pushing his tongue inside, he groans into my mouth with the sound of a man hungry for more. And I accept it. I relish it, actually. I’m hungry for it too. I shouldn’t want it. I shouldn’t allow it, but I do.

With his hands roaming as Salem’s did—along my shirt, down my hips and holding my head at the nape—I attempt to drag him closer. Gripping his head, I’m pushing him to give me more. I’m enjoying his commanding presence, and in no way is he forcing himself against me. In a small way, I wish he was.

A madness must be taking me over. I shouldn’t want this at all, I should be fighting, but if I’m going to hell for wanting what they offer, then I’m going to bloody enjoy the trip beforehand. If I’m going to hell and jail, I might as well take a great memory with me for the trip.

Grasping at the button on his jeans, I pull it free. I’m fully expecting him to back away and say this was all a trick. I know that he and Salem were engaged last night, and in a way it turns me on more knowing he’s here, kissing me.

Reaching for the zipper, I pull it down and reach inside, searching out what lies behind the jeans. I should have engaged in my own needs last night, rubbing out the release I needed, then maybe I wouldn’t be here dry humping and grasping at Malachi’s cock. But I want it.

Feeling it, embracing the sound Malachi makes as I grip it tightly, his hands search out the band of my pants. Popping the button, he delves inside. Breaking the kiss, Malachi’s free hand reaches around to unlatch my bra.

Lifting the bloodstained shirt, he searches out my nipples and dips his mouth to each, moaning as he licks and bites them. I pant and groan like the whore my grandmother always thought that my mother was, like she thoughtIwas. And yet here I am, proving her point as the two men use me.

---