Page 4 of The Black Lotus
“No, we don’t, but she’s behind bars. Her reach can only go so far.”
He takes my hand off his cheek, and grips my fingers with his, looking at me with eyes that tell me to shut up and listen, without ever saying those words.
“She may be behind bars, but we don’t know who her connections are. Or how many serial killers she sent after you. We know Zephira is keeping tabs on us, but we don’t know if she is going to try to kill you. I don’t want to kill my sister I just found out about. But I will. To protect you.”
Zephira is ten years younger than Aster, but you’d never guess she was so young because of how she holds herself. After we found out who she was, we researched Salem’s Man Eater. Salem may be where she got her start, but she hasn’t locked herself to one city. She has killed all over Massachusetts, and her number is high despite being so young. She has mutilated fifteen men and counting. Although she’s never killed a woman, I wouldn’t put it past her. To gain more love from a mother she never knew, she wouldn’t hesitate to gut me where I stand.
Aster’s hands squeeze mine. “My own flesh and blood could never stop me from loving you, or being with you.” His thumb brushes over my skin, sending a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “I would kill them all, to know you were safe.”
Squeezing his hands back, I look up at him with softened eyes. “I know you would, Aster, but I’m not scared of anyone coming after me. Your mother’s never getting out; she's in a high security prison, like the one Hannibal Lecter was in.”
He brings my hands to his lips, breathing onto them as he whispers, “I know, but I just got you. I won’t lose you. For thefirst time in my life, I am scared. I love you, my little vixen.” He kisses my knuckles, closing his eyes and leaving his lips planted.
“I love you too, my fox,” I whisper back. His eyes open at my words, a feral look darkening his face as he walks me over to an incinerator in the far corner of the room, one I didn’t notice before.
“I know how much you love fire, so I thought, when it is necessary, you can watch your victims burn.”
Releasing his hand, I bend down to caress the machine. “I do love watching flames lick away at bubbling flesh.”
“For the ones dumb enough to attack in the open, I thought we could come up with a calling card. Something to let everyone know, we are ready, and they are next.”
Standing back up, a grin plasters my face.I already know what I want my calling card to be.I wanted a flower, like Aster, but I needed it to embody my story. My truth. My strength. Something that showed the beauty of darkness, rebirth, and transformation.
“Black lotus. That is what I want as my calling card,” I say, leaving no room for argument.
A smile twists his features, a look of approval passing over his face. “My little vixen, we really are one in the same. I was hoping you would choose that flower. It describes you perfectly.”
“Oh, yeah? Why is that?” I say teasingly, jabbing a finger into his chest. Instead of answering, he grabs me and drags me out of the kill room. He picks me up and throws me back on the comfy chaise and walks away.
“What are you doing?” I ask, wanting to get up but knowing if I try, he will push me back down.
He walks over to my killer bookshelf and grabs a box hidden on top.Even if I wanted to, I’m too short to even reach up there.I didn’t even think to look on top of the shelf.What’s in the box?I sit up on my knees, peering up at what I can only assume to beanother surprise, but before I can get a good look at it, he hides it behind his back, I fall back into the position he left me in as he kneels right in front of me.Oh god, I hope he isn’t going to propose.I back further into the chaise, away from the crazy man on his knees. Before I have a chance to escape, he stops me, his calloused hand digging into my knee. I look down, my breath caught in my lungs. Unable to move, unable to speak, I’m stuck, suspended in time with Aster.
“Serena-”
He takes a big breath preparing himself for his proposal.He only says my name when it’s serious, butthis isn’t a romcom, for fucks sake.We are both killers; ones who are just starting to get to know one another. It is too soon. I haven’t even thought about marriage. Sure, I’d risk my life for him, kill for him, even die for him, butmarriage? I am not ready for that.
“-I need to ask you a serious question, one I don’t know if you’re going to say yes to.” He rakes his fingers through his hair.Fuck, he’s nervous.“You are the most important woman in my life, and I can’t see myself doing this with anyone else. I will go to war for you,withyou. I would give my last breath to save yours.”
I lift my hand to silence him, my heart pounding so hard I swear he can hear it.I don’t want to hear those four words. I’m not ready.He grabs my hand and places the box in my palm. I pinch my eyes closed. “Aster, I’m not-”
All I hear is his deep laugh. I slowly peek one eye open. This mother fucker is full on belly laughingon the floor. Shock spirals through me, my fingers shaking around the box I debate throwing across the room.I didn’t know marrying me would be so funny.Before I can get mad at him for something I didn’t even want to begin with, I look down and realize the box is way too big to be holding a ring. This box is long and sleek; a ring would be too small to fit in a box this big. I wouldn’t put it pasthim to put the ring in a box, inside another one, like one of those Russian dolls.
I glare at him, opening the box with a stilted yank. My body freezes. Inside is a shiny, serrated hunting knife with a blue handle. I chuck the box at his head, and he dodges it, like I knew he would.Fucker is always in my head, knowing what I’m going to do before I do it.
“I thought-”
“You thought I was going to propose?”
I look at him wide eyed, nodding in shock.
He sits back on his heels. “Of course I knew.”
“Why did you let me think you were doing something so crazy?” I wave the knife between us, and he captures my wrist.
“First, let's not swing that around. Second, messing with you is the highlight of my day. The way your nose crinkles, panic swirling in those blue eyes of yours.” He sniffs the air by my face. “I can smell the fear radiating from your pores, vixen. I’ve never smelled a more intoxicating ambrosia.”
Pushing him away, I point the tip of the blade a mere centimeter from his nose. “One day I’m going to be the one making you sweat.”
