Page 17 of Half the Summer's Night
Abikissedit.
The thought floods me with a hot, dangerous lust. I jog down to the water, kicking the sand around to try and hide my footprints. I stop at the place where the waves crash frigid water over my bare feet. The night feels endless; the moon is tiny tonight, little more than a fingernail, and the sky and the water bleed together.
I reach down and rub my cock, listlessly.
There’s so much to process. But all I can think about is Abi. The sound of her footsteps and then the sight of her in the cold, sterile hallway, practically naked in her nightgown. The shocking warmth of her body against mine. The quiet, fearful noises she made against my glove.
Her lips against my lips.
Her pussy against my thigh.
The throb of lust that I’mcertainI felt from her.
I slip my hand into the waistband of my pants and pull my cock out, thrusting furiously into my hand. I know it’s stupid, doing this out here. I know the cops have probably descended on her house already, that they’re fanning out through the cemetery and surrounding streets.
But all I can think about is her scent, and her heat, and her mouth.
I kissed her. Finally, after all these years.
Cum erupts from between my fingers, disappearing into the pale surge of sea foam. I drop my hand to my side, breathing heavily, wondering what might have happened if I stayed. Where that cum might have ended up.
The sea wind gusts around me, bringing the scent of the oceanfront. People scents. Sunscreen, sweat, food, blood. None of it is as sweet as Abi, and all of it dulled down. Faded. The cops haven’t come looking on the beach.
I tuck my cock away, feeling deflated after that paltry excuse for an orgasm. I conjure up Abi’s face again, although this time, I imagine her in my office at the hotel, smiling and shy. I know she wasn’t smiling at the real me, but I can sort of pretend.
There’s nothing else for me to do but go home. I’m not going to sleep tonight, that much is certain, but I can plan my next kill. It’s an auspicious one, because the victim will get a K somewhere on their skin. I like that. K for Kill. I already know the location: Neptune’s Adventure, the mini golf course that looks out over the beach. A good place for a death. Lots of moving mechanical parts that can trap clothes or hair and murder someone in a way that doesn’t look like murder.
Which has always been my speciality, even when I was killing for Uncle Nash.
I amble along the beach, walking where the water meets the sand. The night creatures are out. Ghost crabs, mostly, little pale streaks that slide into their sandy tunnels as soon as they feel the thunder of my feet. Prey hiding from a predator, although I’m not a predator they have to worry about.
The wind shifts, shoving my hair into my face. When it does, the scents change, too. The dull underscore of humanity is still there, the way it always is. But I smell something different.
Darker. Muskier.Dangerous.
I stop, the waves splashing around my ankles. I rarely experience fear, but a trickle of it rises in my throat now.
The cops? Did they track me here?
I turn around, my footsteps already disappearing into the wet sand. But I don’t think this is the cops. Whatever this is, it doesn’t seem…
Human.
The thought startles me. It’s not an animal. Animals have their own presence, a wildness in their scent like gamey venison. This is closer to a human than that.
But it doesn’t feel like the presence of the humans on the beachfront. It doesn’t feel like Abi, either.
“Hello?” My voice is immediately swallowed by the wind, and the only answer I get is the rhythmic crashing of the waves. I tilt my head, listening.
I think I hear a heartbeat. Or maybe I’m just hearing my own, since my heart is currently pounding against my ribcage like it’s trying to warn me of danger.
But there’s nothing out here.
It’s just me. The only monster in Rosado.
7
ABI
