Page 17 of Taming Seraphine

She nods.

My stomach churns. “Why?”

“They need to know I’m not afraid.”

“The voices in your head?” I whisper, my pulse quickening.

What the fuck did I bring to my home? Why the hell did I think the situation with Seraphine would be anything like with Miko? When I met the boy, he was bruised but fully clothed and unshackled.

Sure, there was a gleam in his eye when I strangled his stepfather, but that was satisfaction wrought from years of being powerless against a bully. I brought him into my spare room, but the worst thing he did was leave trash on the floor.

Did I bring home a serial killer or did she go too far with her self-defense?

As Seraphine continues to slice Billy Blue’s penis into wafer-thin pieces, my patience cracks. I can handle a room full of dead poker players, or even a castrated creep, but I can’t stand by and watch a girl make a sandwich out of a cock.

“Stop that.” I snatch the knife out of her hands and toss it across the counter.

Without skipping a beat, she reaches for the sliced meat.

I yank the chopping board off the counter and throw it and the severed penis across the room.

Seraphine whirls around, her nostrils flaring.

“You will not eat that sandwich,” I snarl.

“There’s nothing worthwhile in the fridge,” she spits back.

I clench my fists. “There’s wings and pizza left over. Oh wait, you drenched that in blood.”

Her lips tighten into a thin, and she glares up at me like a feral kitten, looking ready to make me her new target. I bare my teeth, daring her to pounce.

We stand so close that I can feel the rapid thrum of her heart. She wants to fight, I can tell, and I’m ready for her next move. Before I can think of what to say next, her shoulders sag.

“I’m sorry for ruining your leftovers,” she says, sounding genuinely contrite.

My face drops.

What?

“Anythingelseyou’d like to apologize for?” I ask, my arm sweeping toward the trail of blood leading out toward the murdered men.

“If this is about the mess, I can clean it up,” she says.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Really.”

It’s not even a question. There’s no way a five-foot nothing girl with a face like an angel can move eight male bodies out of the building and dispose of them without breaking her back or getting caught.

She gives me a sharp nod, her features hard with determination. “Really.”

Deluded as well as dangerous.

I should put a bullet through her pretty head before she causes any more mayhem, but I won’t.

“Alright then, Little Miss Murderer, get to work.”

With my eyes still fixed on Seraphine’s, I step backward to where I left my phone by the sink. I’ll be damned if I leave the cleaning up to this pretty little psycho.

It’s time to call my own men and teach her a lesson about not biting off more than she can chew.

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