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He studies me, probably curious about what and how I know the details of his life before Leland and me. Likely thinking I am bluffing, he says, “I was the perfect gentleman until the pair of you came along.”
“Is that why we found you half gutted in some back alley behind a brothel?” He blanches. I remember the way he tried to stuff his intestines back inside his body. Someone had very much wanted him dead, and I do not doubt he deserved it.
Pretty stories of heroism spoke to our naivety then. That’s why Leland agreed to turn him at my request. I saw myself in him. A man dying undeservedly, with only the blood of the immortals able to save him. I thought he was like us. I thought he was good deep down and the unfortunate victim of an evil out in the world. I thought he could join our family.
I thought wrong.
I didn’t know until after Roanoke, but Emerson had been the disinherited son of a nobleman. He lost his titles, money, and legacy when it was discovered that he was raping and mutilating the servants in his home. He’d killed a few, able to cover it up at first, but apparently, his father walked in on him in the middle of the act and refused to overlook it, so he removed him from his will and told him to leave their home. His father’s love and influence only went so far as to not have Emerson arrested immediately.
I close my eyes momentarily, trying to force the image out of my brain. The journals I found told me Emerson had become exceptionally good at skinning his victims and keeping them alive while he forced himself on them. He would even consume their innards from time to time.
Fucking cannibal.
Rumors of his next atrocities are all I have to go on after he was rejected from his home. Fortunately, his father included the rumors in his journals as well. If they were accurate, Emerson spent his time carving up prostitutes, attacking women at night, and a few break-ins where he’d assault the servants and noblewomen alike. Less mutilation, probably pressed for time. He is disgusting.
“Your family found out you were a monster and abandoned you. You got off on hurting women and girls, and one night, you messed with the wrong one. Was it her brother, father, or husband who got revenge on you? Do you even know which woman was able to identify you? Do you know how they found you? Do you still feel their blade as it ripped into your stomach?” He trains the gun on me.
Finally.
“Shut the fuck up, Oz.” He screams at me. I’ve broken through his mask, his cover. He loves doing the deed, but he hates being judged for it. “You don’t know shit. All of them deserved it. All of them as they wriggled and writhed. They were using their bodies to control men and I made them feel like the nothings they were. I was doing a service.”
“A service?” I step to the side ever so slightly, which makes him almost turn his back to Wren. She is reaching behind her. Does my lovely have a weapon he doesn’t know about? “You take your sick and twisted pleasures in any way you can because you feel entitled. When faced with the reality that you aren’t, you break down like the worthless and pathetic piece of shit you are.”
He shakes with anger.
“That’s why you ran at Roanoke. You weren’t afraid Leland would kill you. You were afraid of his judgment.”
He puts his finger on the trigger.
In a flash of movement, Wren leans forward and presses a pistol to Emerson’s knee. As she fires I jerk forward, gripping his hands and angling the gun away as a spray of bullets releases and he screams in pain. Overpowering him with my strength isn’t too difficult, but Wren wants to have all of the fun.
She latches onto his neck. Her snarls echoing in the stairwell, harmonious with the sound of her teeth clacking together and his flesh ripping apart. There is blood everywhere and I yank the gun away from him. He tries to shove her off, but it’s useless.
His hands swipe at her hair, her face, gripping and pulling but not doing a damn thing to deter her. Emerson’s scream is incredibly satisfying.
“Stop, you crazy bitch,” he yells, his eyes finally looking scared as Wren spits some of his flesh on the floor and resumes tearing into his neck.
Every single muscle in her body is focused on feeding right now. To get her to stop, I’d have to kill her and I obviously have no intention of doing that. They slide together down the wall. Whatever blood isn’t pouring out of his gaping wounds is in her mouth. I crouch beside them and watch his eyes begin to lose focus. I run my fingers through Wren’s hair, soothing her as she takes her fill.
“Please…” his voice is getting quiet now, begging.
My mate moans in pleasure at the sound, letting him go for just a second. “I told you that you would beg me.” Amusement colors her words before she latches back on. Emerson’s movements slow, and he is dead in minutes.
When he quits twitching, Wren pulls back. Her nose, mouth, and chin are covered in his blood. She uses her hands to wipe some of it off and suck it from her fingers, focused on getting every drop possible. I untie Leland’s sword from Emerson’s waist and unsheath it. In a swift motion, I swing and separate his head from his body.
There will be no regeneration, and we will set fire to this building as we leave.
Wren looks up at me, still being held onto by her wild side, though I can’t tell if she is returning. It doesn’t matter. They are the same inside. When she can finally merge the two of them, they will be whole and one. I push her up against the wall, kissing her blood-stained lips, pressing myself into her to feel as much of her as possible.
Nothing terrifies me more than the thought of losing her. Her hands snake up my chest, and she wraps her legs around my waist. We stay like this for a few minutes, kissing and holding one another.
I finally break the kiss and rest my forehead on hers, panting.
“Oz,”she whispers. My eyes lock on hers, she isn’t back to her usual self, but I can see the flicker of them both in her eyes.“Oz, let’s get out of here.”
“Of course, little bird. Let’s go home.” She doesn’t want to let go of me, so I carry her as she is. Clinging to me like it is the only way for her to stay safe. Exiting the stairwell, I say calmly to Rolando, “Burn it all down.” A few members of our coven stay behind to do just that. The rest of us pile into the cars and begin the trek back to our mountain home.
Back to peace.
