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Ella
Ishifted on my living room couch, staring at the ceiling. My heart was heavy, and my mind swirled in a whirlwind of emotions from the events. I stared at the spot where Death had overpowered Stephen and slit his throat, then fucked me into delirium. I questioned my sanity as I recalled the mind-blowing sex next to Stephen’s corpse. But I wanted it. I wanted Death. Something inside me had shifted toward him instead of away.
I shuddered at the memory of me standing in front of my mirror, naked and covered in blood. It had taken me an hour to scrub off every drop of crimson sin from my skin and hair. Once I’d finished, Death hauled Stephen’s now naked body to the bathtub and dumped him in. He handed me a full-faced gas mask, and I gawked at him in disbelief.
My stomach clenched. “You’re not going to do what I think you are.”
“Put it on.” He waited as he slipped his into place.
“Where did you get all of this?” I pointed to the jugs lined up on the floor near my tub.
He ignored my question, focusing on the body.
Horrified and repulsed, I gasped as Death poured multiple bottles of chemicals over Stephen’s body. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t turn away as Stephen’s body dissolved within minutes and disappeared down my drain.
“I’ll clean your tub and leave the fans on. Don’t come back in here for at least eight hours. Use your other bathroom.”
Even after I’d opened myself to Death and my darkest desires, I couldn’t deny that a monster had saved me from a monster. I had no fucking clue how to reconcile that. I should tell my therapist, but I couldn’t confide in someone about Death, they were legally bound to report a killer to the authorities. And how the hell would I ever explain that I was ravished in his victim’s blood and not be arrested right along with him?
My feelings flip-flopped again, and a rush of fear and anger consumed me as I recalled how he’d forced me to stay still and allow his seed to remain in my body. The moment he’d left, I rushed to my bedroom and opened my nightstand drawer, frantically searching for my morning-after pill, but it was gone.
A quick phone call to the pharmacy had taken care of that, and I took the first dose as soon as I picked it up. I refused to carry a serial killer’s baby.
Three texts from Sebastian had come through in the last twelve hours, and I hadn’t responded to any. Scrolling through Spotify, I found my “pissed off” playlist and “Desire” by Violet Orlandi blasted through my Alexa speaker.
I stumbled through a strange combination of fear, excitement, and longing as I thought of Death’s touch and mouth on my body. I shouldn’t want him. Sebastian was the kind of man that I should be pursuing. He was strong, solid in his beliefs in wanting to help women and children. He was a good man. My pulse raced as I thought about him, wishing he were here with me. Sebastian’s presence was safe and comforting and a part of me wanted to get lost in him—escape the insanity I was living in.
I shook my head in an attempt to clear the dark clouds muddying my brain, but I could not deny the way my heart raced when I thought of both men—the angel and the devil. I was ashamed for daring to have such conflicting emotions, yet powerless to resist the pull between them. I buried my face in my hands, feeling foolish but unable to stop the thrill that came from pushing boundaries.
But Death saved my life. It’s proof that he isn’t completely consumed by the urge to kill. I suspected that in Death’s mind, his killings had a rhyme and reason. I just wasn’t sure what that was yet.
“I Put Something in Your Drink” by Ramsey pulsed through the house, and a plan began to form. I had no idea who Death, a.k.a. Shadow Whisperer, was. I knew two different personas, the one on camera and the other in my home, but I’d never seen him unless it was dark, or he had a grim reaper mask over his head. I wanted to learn more. I needed to know more. My curiosity had always gotten me in trouble, and this situation was no different.
With a solid plan in place, I attempted to relax and finally read Sebastian’s messages.
Sebastian:
I miss you. I can’t wait to see you.
A few hours later:
I know you’re busy, but text me when you can.
I groaned. I sure as hell couldn’t mention that I’d been busy getting fucked senseless while a dead body was on my kitchen floor.
The last message:
I hope you’re okay. You usually respond sooner. I’m just worried because of Stephen. If I don’t hear from you by noon tomorrow, I’ll send someone to check on you.
I closed my eyes and held the phone to my chest, his words warming my heart. How could I want to be with him but be drawn to Death, as well? Blowing out a breath, I texted Sebastian.
Me:
Sorry! I’m fine, I promise. I was with Dad, then came home and crashed. It’s been a long, exhausting day. Miss you too. Stay safe.
Guilt gnawed at me for lying to him, but it wasn’t like I could tell him the truth … that a serial killer was stalking me and had killed Stephen in my kitchen.
Turning my thoughts from the gruesome situation, I focused on the fact that Sebastian was helping women and kids escape abusive situations.
