Page 17 of Beast

I chuckled at the idea of it. Prison would be like a two-star hotel to my family. Their fear wasn’t prison but dying. At times, I wondered if they worried about that. I crossed my arms, thinking that everything that had happened to date could be a trick. He didn’t know shit about my family.

Tomas blinked.

“We’re here, and as I said, I’m not here to hurt you as long as your dad plays the game right.”

My gut clenched and I swallowed. “And if he doesn’t?”

No more did I feel like eating, as I knew the answer to his question.

He shot up from his seat and ignored me. “Seeing as you’ve eaten everything, I hope you have room for dessert.”

“In America, serial killers on death row always have their favorite meal as their last supper. Will this be mine?”

It was a cheap shot. I didn’t like fish, so it wasn’t exactly my favorite meal. But then he opened the oven, and there it was in front of me as he pulled out the tray. The delicious treat was unmistakable.

“Chocolate brownies,” I purred.

“Not just that, but vanilla ice cream too, and not just any vanilla ice cream.”

I finished his thought for him, and for a split second, I remembered the conversation in which he discovered my fetish for not only ice cream but brownies too.

“Haagen-Dazs. The most expensive ice cream ever and worth every bite.”

He grinned as he laid the oven tray with the brownies on the workspace and then nodded. A woman could find it romantic. A passing conversation online, and he remembered it enough to go to the trouble of baking it.

“This I made especially for you.”

“How come I didn’t hear you or even smell it?”

“You sleep a lot.”

“Do you think that you could butter me up with brownies and ice cream?”

He avoided my stare as I thought about this week. I’d been in my room, yes, but not sleeping. I’d been listening and trying to figure out his movements. Yet, at times I couldn’t hear him at all. It was as though he had feathers on the bottom of his feet. I would open my door and he would be there.

He took a bowl and scooped the ice cream into it. Then he cut the brownie and put it on a plate. It was fancy, especially when he took the chocolate syrup from the fridge and put it on top of the ice cream, not the brownie. Something else I’d commented on. I knew the brownie would taste as good as it looked, but I couldn’t help but feel that all this would come at a price. One that was worth it, as I didn’t even wait until we got to the table to devour the chocolate dessert.

“I’ll get the next plate ready,” he smiled.

I nodded, thinking if this was my last meal, then I would enjoy every last second of it. It was like he was taunting me, by reminding me how I got on this island in the first place. By joining the serial killers chat group and our discussion one time about serial killers and their last meal. I didn’t know if he was doing this as an act of kindness or proving a point. I didn’t want to think too much about it, because being here with nothing to do, but think at times just gave me a headache.

7

BEAST

After one large helping of the brownie and ice cream, I sat back watching Natalia eat every last crumb from the pan and polish off half the ice cream. I admired a woman who wasn’t afraid to eat what she liked. Savor her favorite dessert.

“This so good,” she mumbled, swirling her spoon through the last dregs of vanilla in her bowl. She was beautiful and sensual.

I pushed aside thoughts of her licking ice cream and chocolate off me.

“See something you like?” Natalia smiled as she worked her spoon into the bowl.

I gulped hard. I was a pervert, but I didn’t care. “And here I thought you were a prude.”

A flash of an emotion I didn’t catch had her mouth pinching at the corners and she stood, carrying her bowl and spoon to the sink. “I’ve had enough.”

Her shoulders were tense as she washed the dishes. I let her get over whatever she was mad about on the dishes, only adding mine when her frantic scrubbing of the brownie pan subsided.

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