Page 3 of The Black Lotus
“Serena, I fuck you because that is what I want to do. Not as some distraction, you are far from that. You are the one person who consumes me completely. Do you know how hard I have to fight the urge to destroy you when we’re training?” He lifts my chin, heated eyes meeting my own. “It kills me every time we are near one another and I’m not inside you. But your safety is my number one priority even over fucking you. That’s where your final surprise comes in.” He extends his hand out silently asking for mine.
Eyeing him suspiciously, I take his hand. If there is anything I’ve learned, it is that there is always more than meets the eye with Aster.
“Do I have to close my eyes for this?” I ask, dragging myself from my new favorite place.
He shakes his head and walks me over to a shelf I hadn’t noticed, filled with my Stephen King books and other horror novels I haven’t had the pleasure of reading. I may be a girl who loves her dark and twisted romances, but I was a lover of horror way before that. Stephen King was my introduction into adult novels.
In the middle there is a huge rebound version of Stephen King'sIt. It’s black with red foiling on the side and the words ‘You’ll Float Too’, under the title name. I reach for the book, entranced by the red letters, desperate to trace my fingers over them. Pulling the book from the top, I try to ease it off the shelf to get a better look, but it stops halfway.
Then I hear a little click.
Whirling to look at Aster, hand still on the book that won’t budge, I tilt my head. He smiles, a smugness curving his lips “What’s your favorite horror novel besidesIt?”
Glancing back at the shelf, I findSalem’s Lot. This one isn’t bound, but it is a hardcover copy. WithItstill hanging halfway off the shelf, I pull the spine, frustrated this one also does not come off, but another whisper of a click sounds.
How did he know that was another one of my favorites?
Frustrated, I stick my bottom lip out in a pout. Aster brushes the delicate flesh with his finger. “One more to go, then that frown will be turned upside down.”
I turn back to scan the shelf for my third favorite novel written by King, but try as I might, I can’t locate it. “It’s not here,” I grumble, running my finger along each book to make sure I didn’t miss it.
“It’s there.”
“Itisn’t. Also how do you know which books of his are my favorite? I never told you.” I murmur, my pursuit to find the book never stopping.
His arms wrap around my waist, head resting on my shoulder. “If I told you, then I’d have to kill you,” he teases.
“Ha, ha; very funny. We both know you had your chance and chose to keep me instead.” I turn my head, our breaths mingling with one another.
He looks at my lips and whispers, “You’re right. And not killing you was the best decision I’ve ever made.” I look down at his lips, a moment away from planting mine on his, when I feel him reach over my head and hear a door open.
I whip my head back and see the third book,Miseryhanging halfway off the shelf.I swear that wasn’t there before.The bookshelf swings open, and Aster reaches above my head to pull the door on silent hinges. My breath catches. Laying behind is a surprise even better than my own personal library.
TWO
SERENA
My hands cover my mouth, tears threatening to fall once again and stealing the breath from my lungs, as I gaze upon the room before me. Behind the bookshelf door is my very own kill space. The walls are painted a deep red, with splashes of blues, greens, oranges, and yellow splattered around random spots. The artist in me is in awe of the abstract design, while the killer in me is excited to explore the rest of the room. In the corner, bolted to the ceiling, are hooks similar to the ones I used on Bradley.
Walking over, I reach up to touch the tip of the pointed metal, hissing at the bite of steel. Before I can place my finger in my mouth to stop the bleeding, Aster's hand wraps around mine, his tongue lapping at the bead of blood before his lips curl around my wound. The action alone makes me moan, my panties becoming damp.
He takes my finger out of his mouth with a popping noise, his eyes locked on mine, he says, “Your blood still tastes as addicting as I remember, but I prefer it mixed with your essence instead.”
A blush rises up my neck, and before he has the chance to entice me further, I spin around and go explore. As much as Iwould love to have him taste me, my curiosity is stronger. I want to continue looking around my new space, my domain.
Playtime can come later.
Gliding my fingers across the metal table sitting in the middle of the room, feeling the cool surface, I head towards the drawers on the far wall of the building not far from his.I wonder if the structures are connected or how far my space is from his?Opening them one by one, I find an array of weapons of every kind.
Aster must be more concerned about his mom putting a hit on me than he has been letting on. With all the lessons, and now my very own kill room, he says we have nothing to worry about, that he will protect me. Yet, when push comes to shove his actions are speaking louder than his words, like they always do. I glide my hand over the handle of the blade, noting how they’re stacked shortest to longest. He can say he’s not scared, that he is ready for whatever is thrown our way, but this level of preparation in such a short amount of time shows me otherwise. He feels the same way I do, he is afraid, but he is more rational than me, and when the time comes I know he will have my back. I know he would eliminate everyone in his path to keep me safe. That thought alone has a stray tear falling from my eye.
I wipe it away, and slowly shut the drawer, my hands shaking. I am met with green eyes of remorse, a feeling I know he’s never felt before. Tears threaten to fall once more and I look away. Not ready to face the feelings we share, to face the truth of the situation. I want to live in denial a little longer.
Being a serial killer, he usually doesn't have those emotions. I’ve learned myself that I don’t feel any regret for the lives I take.
Giving into my need to touch him, feel him, I cup my hand to his cheek, his eyes shuttering closed as he nuzzles into my palm. “Everything is going to be okay, Aster.” The lie rolls off my tongue as easily as the truth does. Part of me believes we willmake it out of this, the other part fears we both will meet our maker, and part ways forever.
His eyes slowly open. “We don’t know what my mother is capable of.”
