Page 16 of Scent of Desire
I turned at the small portion of the destruction I had inflicted. The crushed flowers on my floor glared at me in their misery. I leaned over their drooping petals and bleeding stems.
Nobody’s ever given me a gift.
People came to me for favors like I was fucking Santa, but no one had ever given me anything without expecting something in return. She had. And I tore that apart knowing far too well what flowers represented to her. She expressed herself through them and their scents.
I picked up the dying bouquet in my palm, the flowers’ heads leaning in the direction of their graves. Out of something beautiful, I’d created something ugly. Out of a living thing, I’d created death. Everything I touched withered away.
I stepped out of my office, finding Cerba behind the doorstep. Our gazes locked, and she had the decency to bark at me.
“Move.” I snapped my fingers, gesturing for her to descend down the stairs.
She barked again, wagging her tail. I creased my forehead, but her smile widened. She was the only living thing that stuck with me, and I had not the slightest idea why.
I stepped ahead of her. “I wonder sometimes if you’re not a fucking ghost too.”
Being haunted by the ghost of a dog with a tragic fate would make more sense. It was at this moment, Cerba decided to sprint down the stairs with all her living self, passing in front of me. I followed after her, on my way to the living room to search for Mrs. Walton.
Delight wasn’t the expression on my face when I found her. Spasms of irritation crossed my features as I studied with a critical squint Mrs. Walton sewing some sort of old sock onmyleather couch. It was ugly. Not useful. And I was paying her for doing that useless shit.
That old shrew turned gray and immediately rose up at the sound of my thundering footsteps on the ground. She hid her tools on the sofa as if I hadn’t witnessed the horrible piece of wool or whatever she was sewing.
“I’ll have dinner with Lily tonight,” I stated. “Eight sharp.”
She nodded, her gaze bulging from her sockets with too many questions at the bouquet I was holding. I dropped it onto the sofa instinctively, clearing my throat.
“I’m not paying you to stand here. Go.” I sharpened my eyes murderously, and hers stared at me in a catatonic stupor.
She picked up her sock—unless it was a faceless creepy doll—in a hurry and then went to pick up the dead flowers.
“Don’t.”
She jolted, her gaze shifting between me and the flowers.
I turned my back to her. “Leave them.”
“I’m not sure I should go.” I twirled the dinner invitation between my fingers. “Men are so stupid sometimes. Am I right?”
I lifted my head, my gaze searching through the Devil’s Corpse crimson petals for an answer. She had bloomed, to the point that she masked several panes of the roof, soaring toward the sky. Her thorns, like sharp teeth, bristled on her flytraps. Her stems, like tentacles, seemed to have a heartbeat, keeping her alert to everything that was happening around her.
“Radcliff and I, it’s…” I drew a shaky breath, thinking of the right words. “Uncanny.”
My eyebrow raised. “Twisted.”
My gaze dropped to Cerba, crouching at my feet. Her eyes glistened at me, her tail jumping from one side to another. “Magical.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “Unlikely.”
I rose up, removing dirt from my dress. I passed my fingers through the dry tears inked on my cheek and inhaled the powerful scent of folklore tales and dark velvet dreams.
“Wish me luck,” I said with determination.
I felt the vines of the Devil’s Corpse brushing on my arm, their caress encouraging me to face Radcliff.
“Thank you.” I shot a last glance at my flower with the deepest smile and ambled toward the exit of the greenhouse. “Let’s go, Cerba.”
She ran wildly in the direction of the manor, and I followed after her in the midst of the night. Shivers spread on my skin hearing the howling cries of the owls and the haunting shrieks of the ravens. My heart galloped in my chest, my footsteps hastening on the grass, for fear a midnight monster would catch up to me.
Behind the gothic stained glass windows, a golden light shimmered into the dining room area, contrasting with the surrounding darkness. I passed through the entrance door and arrived face-to-face with Mrs. Walton, her hands crossed in front of her belly. She tapped her watch twice on her wrist with her finger, letting me know I was late, if her severe and hostile stare wasn’t warning enough.
