Page 32 of Blood & Lace
"It's actually time for you to go home," he added. "I'm tired now."
My mouth snapped shut, and I clicked my tongue. "Well, you're definitely my brother."
Adam looked just like me. He was a year older, but we shared the same eyes, same pink lips, same sharp angles in our faces. The only difference was that he was taller, and had once been pretty athletic. That had only lasted for as long as he was forced to let it, and now? He was skinny. Too skinny.
"You sure you don't want food? I can order," I persisted, frowning.
"No. The person you send to drop off food does it. Just haven't been hungry."
"Youhaveto eat," I pressed. "All those meds with no food…"
"I know!" he snapped before he shut his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Louis."
Louis.It was an identity I shed out of necessity, but hearing my brother say it always filled me with warmth.
I saw tears lining his eyes, and I knew it was really time to go. The only thing I was doing was overwhelming him, and that wasn't what he needed. I wrapped my arms around him, and hugged him tightly for what felt like ages but was only seconds, before I pulled back and quickly wiped my own eyes.
"Get some rest. I love you."
"I love you too," he whispered.
I gathered my things, gave him one final wave, then headed out. As soon as I was walking down the street, that old urge grew. My stomach tightened, my body reacted, and it took everything not to smash my fist into the brick facade of the building. But Icouldn't bruise my pretty hands. No, I needed something much, much more.
10
ONYX
"Crazy bitch!"
I stalked after the man as he turned a corner and ran further into the maze of the warehouse. He didn't know the layout of his own place, but I did. The art gallery was massive, but behind it, in the storehouse, were things people had to pay extra for. Stolen art, pilfered artifacts, and if you paid alot, people. Didn't matter the age, it didn't matter who they were. All you had to do was fill out a sheet and they would find what you needed. After that, it was shipped and delivered gift wrapped to your trunk, back door, or meetup in the middle of the woods. The truly wealthy, like dear Max, had no limits. Organs, sex, necrophilic fantasies; they were all on the menu.
And for someone like me, they were my food. What I craved more than I needed to breathe.
"Max, come back here," I whispered. "I got a little ahead of myself, baby," I crooned. "See, I wasn't supposed to punch you in the face, but I have all this pent-up energy. The knife wound to the achilles? Well, that was just foreplay." I grinned. "You like foreplay? I do. I like it a lot."
Something thumped and then crashed to the ground. I spun on my heels, glad I didn't break my neck on the sky-high Louboutins he had insisted on, and raced toward the sound. When I arrived, he was on the ground, bleeding and dragging his body across the concrete floor. Blue eyes flickered up to meet my gaze, and true fear lingered in those depths as they widened and his breathing picked up. He tried to slide away, and I followed him slowly, teasingly.
"S-stop," he gasped, holding his hand up as if that would fend me off. "I can pay you. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."
I moved closer and he whimpered. Laughing, I crouched down and bounced on my heels. I tilted my head at him.
"I'm already rich, Max. What more could you offer me?" I mused. "The only reason I do this is to kill you sick fucks that think you can do whatever you want without any consequences."
"But... but you usually marry them first, right?" he asked, lip trembling. "You're the Black Widow of New York."
My grin cracked wide. "Guilty," I mused. "And marrying people is… complicated right now." I sighed. "My husband is seriously cutting into my margins by refusing to get a divorce. It's really pissing me off. How am I supposed to give back to the less fortunate, when I can't steal all your cash after I kill you? Useless."
"I—I have cash,"the man said, not listening to a word I said.Typical man."And I can give you a name. I know someone, a real sick fuck. Likes extreme shit, you know?"
I barked out a laugh. "More extreme than you?"
"Yes," he gritted out. "Even I'm not that sick. He loves killing exotic animals, has whole parties around it. Tortures them. I went once and got sick."
I stared down at him like he was stupid. Really? He got sick, but not over other human lives, over children. No, they were just livestock to him. And the animals? Those touched his dead fucking heart.
"You're a real sick fuck, you know that?" I said slowly. "I love animals as much as the next, but the fact that you think thatwomen and childrenare less valuable than them? It's fucking disgusting."
I stood and kicked him in the ribs. Something cracked. He screamed and I moaned.
