Page 28 of Of Desire And Deception

“There is no mercy for traitors, Elio.” I turned on the ventilation system, and the whirring of the industrial fans cut the silence. I didn’t like that sound, so I turned on Bach and swayed to the music. “Do you like fireworks displays?”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Fireworks,” I repeated.

The man looked at me like I was insane. “Yeah, sure. I guess?”

“Good.” I gathered the bundle of things and crouched behind Elio, using duct tape to secure the fireworks to his right hand. “You’re going to put on a little private show for me since you’re so fond of explosives.”

“The fuck are you doing?” Elio’s attempt to pull his hand away from me was futile, since he was still cuffed.

“I want to extend this display, so we’re going to use a bomb blanket.” I affixed the wire to the end of the firework and covered his hand with the suppression fabric. Then I unwound the line and took my place a safe distance away, where Elio could watch me. I whistled “Pop! Goes The Weasel.”

“Cosimo, stop, please!”

“Shh, you’re distracting me,” I said, brushing my thumb over the electronic detonator. “I want to time this perfectly.”

I resumed whistling, pressing my thumb down in time with the lyrics and hearing the muffled explosion as I broke into song. “Pop! Goes the weasel.”

Elio’s screams drowned out my words, but I was still satisfied with the outcome. His bloodied arm waved free, the handcuffs no longer holding him in place without a hand below his wrist. Face beet red as he saw his mangled flesh, partially cauterized by the blast, my guest screamed until he was hoarse. He was a little hysterical, really.

“I wonder what it felt like for the men in that building,” I mocked as I used a tourniquet kit to staunch the flow of blood. Elio wasn’t fully conscious, wavering on the edge of passing out. “Do you think it was this painful for them, or were they killed instantly?”

Picking up the suppression blanket, I shook out the remnants of flesh and bone. I still had one more hand left, so I repeated the preparation and selected the “1812 Overture” finale on my playlist. The irony made me laugh. My sobbing guest didn’t share my sense of humor.

Poised with the detonator, I hummed along.

“Boom,” I whispered as I pressed the button, and the fireworks detonated as the cannons reverberated through the speakers. This time, Elio passed out cold, unable to withstand the pain. His arm fell limply at his side, and I affixed the tourniquet before he woke with glazed eyes. I’d pushed him past his breaking point, beyond what his fragile mind could handle.

It was somewhat disappointing that he would only be vaguely aware of his end. I preferred to watch as their pulse slowed and the light in their eyes extinguished. Retrieving a wicked-looking blade used for breaking down sides of beef, I pulled Elio’s head back, exposing his neck and making a clean cut across, blood pouring out and ending his life in a matter of seconds.

Death and I were perfect dance partners. I led, and death followed. There was something so serene about the moment just after a life had been tamped out—a hovering silence when they breathed their last and before I took my next breath.

I inhaled, the metallic tang of blood filling my nostrils as my hand was coated in liquid warmth. I was covered in a traitor’s blood. Sighing, I got to work preparing the body for transportation to a crematorium the family used. It was an easy way to get rid of most of the body, leaving only ashes to dissolve in a strong base.

Two hours later, everything had been neatly packed up, and the entire dungeon was efficiently cleaned. I’d showered twice and put on new clothing I kept on hand. My bills for clothes and shoes rivaled any fashionista's, but I didn’t own a packed closet. All my attire was disposable. Sometimes single-use, depending on the day.

After one more pass with a UV light, I was satisfied no bodily fluids remained. I would move the body after the club closed to avoid accidental witnesses. It was going to be a long night.

Ensuring the digital lock to the dungeon engaged when the door closed, I turned and climbed the stairs to the main level, ready for a drink and a snack. When I pushed through the basement entrance, I found Wynn in the hall, coming out of the storeroom.

“Oh!” she startled when she saw me, clutching a bottle of alcohol to her chest. Curiosity quickly replaced that surprise. “I didn’t realize you were here tonight. What’s down there?”

I needed a distraction. Curiosity could quite literally be the death of her if she got it in her head to explore again and managed to find out the secrets locked away below. The thought of snuffing out the light in Wynn’s eyes didn’t sit right with me.

Deciding to go on the offensive, I stalked down the hall toward her. She spun, her light golden hair fanning out, clearly intending to run back to the bar, but I caught her by the arm and pinned her against the wall. The sound of glass shattering barely registered as my vision tunneled on Wynn’s face.

“Have you been following me, goldilocks?” I growled, letting her glimpse the danger that lurked below the surface.

“N-no,” she stammered, her clear blue eyes wide and fearful. “I came to get more vodka.”

Wynn looked down the hall where the bottle lay in shards on the tile floor where she’d been standing before I captured her. I ignored the mess, focusing on the woman who was mere inches from me, her breaths coming in desperate puffs that practically screamed how alive she was. How different from the time I’d just spent with a corpse.

It awakened something dark inside me—a predator. And I liked that Wynn was my prey. Now I’d caught her, and my heart hammered with excitement, the adrenaline a heady drug. I leaned down, inhaling her scent—sunshine, citrus—and fear.

“Fuck,” I whispered against her ear, taking another whiff. I ran my nose up the shell of her ear, then dipped lower, dragging my tongue up her neck. My eyes rolled back with pleasure, my cock hard in my jeans. “I can taste your trepidation. So sweet. I could fucking devour you, goldilocks.”

“Cosimo,” she whimpered, her desire twining with something just shy of terror. I took another taste, nipping at her flesh. Her voice wavered. “Please.”

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