Page 19 of Grave Love
One day, I’ll coat her in blood. Just like that.
My little corpse continues her steady breathing, so drunk that she doesn’t even know I’ve come right underneath her. I sigh and reach around me, searching for something to clean up. I find an old sweater. I wipe my fingers on the fabric. She rolls over on the mattress again, the coils squeaking with her weight. I look at my hands.
A drop lingers on my forefinger. Like a dot of honeysuckle, waiting to be licked up.
Carefully, I slide across the ground before getting on my knees. Reaching over, I put a soft finger on Ren’s lips, coating those dry slivers of her skin with my come. It reminds me of a fish, and I briefly think about the salmon skin salad my mother’s boyfriend once brought over from a Japanese restaurant. The idea of skinning Ren alive like that intrigues me.
In a way, I’m doing it now. Eating her alive.
Ren licks her lips, her nose wrinkling at the salty taste of my come. Then her face loosens, falling back into deep sleep. My dick twitches, my balls tightening against my groin all over again.
I don’t give in.
I want to kill her. I want to see that pleasurable ecstasy in her eyes right before she dies. And in order to make it themostsatisfying kill, I need that connection. I need to see if she’s truly like my first, like my instincts tell me she is.
And that takes time.
Once I’m home, I swing the door open. Moonlight floods in from behind me, illuminating the hardwood floors. I bring my fingers to my nose, inhaling the scent. On the head of it, you can smell my come. Then there’s something else, somethingdivinebeneath it all.Ren’s pussy. Sour. A hint of sweetness. Smoke. The flakes of the dead lingering on her skin, enveloping her every breath, heavy with lust. A hint of the bitter taste of her adrenaline. Knowing that she wanted exactly what I gave her.
Leaving the lights off, I walk through the dark house like Ren walks through the mortuary at night. I find my way to the spare bedroom, then unlock the old chest and stare down at the locks of hair. Yellow. Creamy white. Strawberry gold. All different shades of blond. A simple way that Ren is different from them.
I open the small compartment inside the trunk’s lid, revealing Ren’s black hair. It’s separated from the rest now, and will continue to be that way until she joins them.
With one hand, I clutch the blond strands in my palm. With the other hand, I pinch her black hair, rolling it between my fingers, relishing in the thick strands. I close my eyes and cast my head toward the ceiling. The strands ripple between my fingers, the tension ripe. The need to fuck and kill her conquering me.
Just like I’ll destroy her.
Ren will be my fourth kill. She’ll be the marker of a new era, one where I find exactly the violent high I’m looking for, a time where I practice my craft until I’m an expert at murder and disposal. A phase where I find my eager little victim, and we plan her body disposaltogether,where we use this opportunity to perfect my system.
Ren is perfect.
I drop the blond hairs into the trunk, then carefully tuck Ren’s black hairs into the hidden compartment in the lid.
Heat boils inside of me as I realize what I just did.
I was gentle with her hair.
Hair is nothing more than dead pieces of skin, and yet, I’m still cautious with her.
It’s aggravating.
Ren is still alive. And now, she knows about my habits. That’s a problem. A liability. I confessed to her that I like torturing women. Fucking them. Killing them. That I’m curious about doing that with someone like her, someone who is already attracted to the violent side of depravity. Someone as unrestrained as me.
I could’ve killed her tonight in her own bed. Instead, I wiped my come on her lips.
I’m setting myself up for a trap.
I shove those thoughts out of my mind. As long as my secrets die with her, it doesn’t matter.
In the master bedroom, I take out a small container from the nightstand drawer, marveling at the little white pills. Her precious benzodiazepines.
I lick my lips, keeping myself in check. Thiswillwork. It has to. Ren will come around, and she’ll see that we can work together. That we both want something from each other.
We’re all animals, and Ren, as interesting as she is, is simply another woman to torture, fuck, and kill. She might not be awillingvictim—at least, not at first—but her cuntwillbe wet for me.
I don’t care if she’s still alive or if she still has a brain. She’s just a body. And if she doesn’t comply, I’ll kill her anyway.
I pull a heavy-duty dog’s choke chain from the bottom drawer of the nightstand, placing it on my bed. Next, I take out a metal leash, displaying them next to each other. I bought them for her the other day on instinct. With the others, I had specific ways I wanted to torture them, and I followed those instincts to the last, intimate detail.
