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She finished her food quickly, before the episode had finished airing. She practically skipped to the sink, the scent emanating from her making Malachi’s mouth water.
“Day two,” she said when she was done cleaning the dishes, that manic grin stretching her lips, bringing all of Malachi’s senses alive. “I hope you’re ready, demon boy.”
His lips twitched. “Whenever you are, little tiger.”
Her face did something complicated, like she didn’t know if she liked the nickname or not. Her scent didn’t lie, though. She liked it a lot.
Malachi had to stand, filled with restless, excited energy. Why had doing Desmond’s bidding never felt like this? Was it because it had never felt so … hands on? Desmond was a Native Doctor; folks mostly came to him for magical trinkets for good luck or bad luck alike, all of the items powered by Malachi’s magic, since Desmond couldn’t manipulate the aether himself. It was rare that Malachi ever got to do something truly dastardly.
Like last night, Joy took her clothes and changed in the bathroom. Malachi’s breath hitched when she exited, even though it was the same outfit as before.
But it wasn’t the outfit, was it? It was her aura; it was as though, when she put on the outfit, she put on a persona. What had she called it last night?
Femme fatale.
Joy sat at the bottom of her bed to put on her strappy heels, then went to the floor length mirror resting on the wall beside her front door to do her face.
She turned around when she was ready. Fuck, Malachi was beginning to become obsessed with wanting to get all that red on her lips stained on his own.
“Today, we’re doing something different.”
Joy couldn’t count how many nights her rapist had stolen from her. Not only the night of the incident, but after, when she’d lost sleep, happiness—her sexuality and her own sense of safety. He’d made her feel like an interloper in her own skin, her own home.
So, Joy was going to return the favour.
He had another night shift. He usually did, back when Joy used to work here. That soul-crushing realisation came back; for him, nothing at all had changed. He kept the same job, the same hours, the same friends. He could fuck up the trajectory of her life irreparably, while still going on to live his. She wasn’t even a blip on his radar.
Joy clenched the hilt of the dagger hard. Her jaw ached with how hard she was grinding her teeth.
Patience. Good things come to those who wait.
He finally exited the supermarket. It seemed he’d written off last night as a fluke, because he didn’t even look across the street as he headed for his car. He got into the driver’s seat, slipping his key into the ignition.
She spoke his name from where she and Malachi were seated.
His head whipped around quickly, his breath catching. Malachi was doing the work, keeping her invisible. The bond lent to them by their contract meant she didn’t need to communicate what she neededfromhim. Which was extra fucking delicious.
Slowly, after a moment, her victim turned around and started the car. He looked up, into the rear-view mirror, right into Joy’s bright eyes.
He sucked in a sharp breath, twisting around again, but Joy was gone. Fuck, she wished she could hear his heartbeat right now. Was it pounding with fear and adrenaline, the way he’d madeherheart pound? Was his breath catching in his throat—his lungs struggling to take in air?
She delighted in his heaving chest, his shaking hands as he once again reached for his keys. He hesitated, but didn’t look in the rear-view mirror this time.
Joy’s lips stretched wide, her blood rushing with ecstasy.
Malachi gently held her elbow. When she blinked, they were standing on the pavement.
Malachi waited until the car was about to turn down the corner, then he let go. At the same time, likehecouldn’t resist, he looked in his rear-view mirror.
Joy grinned again. She lifted the hand that held the dagger, and waved. He stared at her, eyes wide and stricken, as he turned and disappeared around the corner.
“Day two,” Joy whispered.
“You said you feed on emotions,” Joy began the moment they were back in her tiny little accommodation. She spun around to face Malachi, her eyesgleaming. Her excitement was infectious, making Malachi’s own blood rush just as fast. “Did you taste his? Was he afraid?”
“Petrified,” Malachi replied honestly, his voice husky.
“Good,” Joy growled, pacing, like she couldn’t keep still. “Oh, so fucking good. I can’t wait to fuck him up. I can’t wait to absolutely destroy him.”
