Page 11 of The Black Lotus (Fatal Florals Duet #2)

SIX

ASTER

“ P ut that down,” I tell Serena, the guy’s gun clutched in her hands.

After we got him secured, she left and came back holding the rifle.

I told her we didn’t have time to play; we needed to wake him up and get him talking, but my vixen isn’t known for her listening skills.

I tighten the straps holding him down with a grunt, my frustration evident in the unnecessary way I overly secure him.

She is acting too carefree for someone who could’ve been a victim.

I move down to his legs repeating the same process wishing she’d just be a good girl and obey, but that isn’t the woman I fell in love with.

I need to start trusting her, she can take care of herself, and I need to let her, even if it kills me in doing so.

“I think it’s a musket.” She tips the barrel down, examining the weapon.

Spinning around, I snatch the gun to examine it myself and, sure enough, it is a musket.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Serena asks, coming up behind me.

Instead of answering, I walk over to the sleeping guy and reach into his pockets, pulling out a musket ball.

I turn the rusted ball over in my hand, seeing the initials CK on them.

My hand tightens around the ball like a snake constricting around its prey.

Anger seeping from every crevice in my body at the thought that this waste of space would dare attempt a shot at Serena, my vixen's life.

“Aster?”

“It’s the Concord Killer,” I mumble, lifting the ball into the light. She takes the cool steel from my hand, squinting at it.

“He makes these himself, doesn’t he?”

“I do.”

Coughing echoes behind us, and we spin around to see the Concord Killer is awake.

How is he awake already? In all the years I’ve used ketamine, no one has woken up that fast. It usually takes me doing something to my victims to begin the fun.

Squinting at the man before me, I examine his state without touching him, trying and failing to understand how he is speaking right now.

“You’ve heard of me.” His eyebrows dance in an arrogant way, his nose turned up at us like the pompous ass I expected him to be.

I stalk over to him, a snarl ripping from my throat, peering down into his unbothered eyes, his black hair falling across his face. “What I know is you’re cocky, arrogant without cause, and shunned in our world.”

He rolls his eyes. “Just because I use a gun doesn’t mean I’m not a better serial killer than any of you assholes.”

“It means you’re a coward. Someone looking for prestige without earning it.” Serena sneers, walking into his line of sight.

He lets out a low whistle. “You are a sight for sore eyes, beautiful. Heaven sent. Too bad you have to die.”

My knuckles connect with his face, spit and teeth scattering across the floor. “Shut the fuck up.”

He laughs, blood dribbling out of his mouth and coating his teeth. “I could have her screaming around my coc-”

A pop echoes around the room and my thumb digs into his eye, blood cascades down when I pull it out.

I drop it, letting it dangle off the side of his face.

He screams as his body lurches off of the table, his hand desperately trying to break free to cover the pain.

My fists slam into him over and over again even after his one eye closes and his screams cease.

The red I see isn’t just his blood, it’s the rage I feel realizing how little Mother, and everyone else in our world, cares about Serena.

Who the fuck does he think he is speaking about my girl that way?

I wanted to get answers, but I crave his death more.

It isn’t until I feel Serena’s hand touch my shoulder, my name a whisper through the angry fog, for my rage to fade and my wrath to cool.

My hands are bloody, but I'm not sure if it’s mine or his.

“We need him alive,” Serena says, pulling me away from CK’s unconscious body.

“I know, but-” Her hand caresses my cheek, my breath catching at her softness.

“But you let your emotions get the better of you.”

“Yeah.” I hang my head in shame. How am I supposed to expect Serena to keep her emotions in check when I lose all control.

“Sounds like we both need to work on that.”

I kiss the inside of her palm, my heart slowing. “When it comes to you, I lose all sense of rationality.”

She brings her lips to mine, effortlessly erasing the high I was in. “Want to talk about what just happened while we wait for him to come to? If he comes to…”

I hold onto her hand like a lifeline, keeping me from tipping over the edge again and place my fingers on his neck. “He has a pulse.”

She smiles softly. “That’s good.”

She opens a couple drawers, searching for something until she finds and pulls out a rag, tossing it at me. “Clean yourself up and meet me in the library.”

With that she opens the kill room door and leaves. Her eyes showed understanding and her touch felt compassionate, but I can’t help and feel like I’m a child who is about to get scolded for his behavior.

After I clean myself off, taking my time to get every speck of blood, I join her.

She pats the spot next to her, and I climb onto the chaise. I lay my head on her lap, her fingers brushing my hair, bringing me a sense of calmness I have never experienced. My mother never showed the kind of love Serena shows me, she showed it through food and lessons.

I wonder if this is how Serena would be like with our child?

The thought of being parents to our own little monster warms my heart, but also brings a sense of dread.

What kind of parents would we be? Would we raise our child as mine did me and make them into a killer?

Or would we be like Tiffany and Chucky and abstain from murder?

I would leave that up to Serena, but I couldn’t imagine not being able to get a little stabby to the ones who deserve it.

Could I stop being who I’ve always been to create a family I don‘t deserve?

I never thought I was the type of killer to ever want a family, but I've found anything with Serena is a possibility.

Serena’s calming voice pulls me from my thoughts. “You know, as hot as that was watching you lose control, we don’t know how many killers are coming or how many we could actually get information from.”

“I don’t regret it.” I sit up.

“Me either,” Serena says softly, and we both start laughing.

We sit back, letting the silence surround us as our thoughts consume us.

The Concord Killer has a high kill count.

He's cocky; the headlines for his kills emphasize how he doesn’t care about the shot heard around the world.

He’s precise as a sniper, which is begrudgingly impressive given his choice of weapon.

Running my fingers through Serena’s hair, I realize I know more about CK than I thought I did.

He’s not quick, but he’s unnervingly deadly.

No one knows where he got his musket from, and they can’t trace who he is because he makes his own ammo.

What are the chances he’s the one landing in our laps?

He seems arrogant and smug, but his eyes hold the truth.

He is scared, even though he says he isn't. I can work with that .

After all, fear is what I feed off of, and any man or woman who says anything to my girl is the best meal a killer could have.

Serena stands up, reaching her hand out to me. “Are you ready to make this poser squeal?”

Placing my hand in hers, we walk back into her kill room.

“Where do you keep the smelling salts?” Serena asks, bouncing on her heels. I retrieve the salts from a drawer, dropping them in Serena’s grabby hands.

She runs over to the table and snaps the bag, his swollen eyes springing open.

“Rise and shine, CK,” Serena singsongs.

“It’s Nate.” The idiot spits, pulling against his restraints.

Serena grabs a knife and touches the tip to her finger, hissing and sucking her finger into her mouth.

This woman is going to be my undoing . The fabric of my pants stretching uncomfortably with my growing erection.

I adjust myself as Serena brings the blade inches from the one eye still intact, his throat bobbing the closer she gets.

“Did I ask for your name?” She stabs the blade on the table beside his head, making the coward flinch. “I don’t give a shit about learning the name of the person sent to kill me. What I want to know is what you get for my head.”

A serpentine smile spreads across his face “What do I get if I answer your question, beautiful?”

Restraining myself from killing him, refusing to take away Serena’s fun, I press my back into the wall, my knuckles white.

Serena brings the blade to his neck and his breath hitches.

She looks up at me and smiles as the knife nicks his pale skin, his teeth grinding from the pain.

I cross my arms, digging my nails into them to keep myself from ripping the clothes off my vixen.

The way her monster is coming out to play is making mine restless.

Her eyes widen as she watches the blood form from the cut, her gloved hand pressing on the wound opening the cut further and making him hiss.

A satisfied grin lifting her cheeks. She removes her fingers and walks around the table, his wide eyes following her every movement.

The knife swings back and forth as it loosely hangs upside down like a clock ticking.

His gaze tracks the movement waiting for the moment she strikes again.

She tosses the knife in the air, time stops as I will my body not to lunge forward to push her out of the way.

Nate’s eyes pinch closed just before she catches the blade next to his ribs with a cackle escaping her lips.

I let go of the breath I was holding, watching in amazement at the knife skills I didn’t know my vixen held.

The knife pierces his skin as she walks up the table, his jeans staining red.

He’s trying to hide it, but it seems like the cocky facade is slipping with each bite of the steel she cuts into his skin.

My hand twitches as I will myself to stay put.

I feel like a fish out of water with the urge to take the knife from Serena to finish the job.

The last time I cut into flesh was my birthday kill, and even then I wasn’t fully satisfied.

Will I ever be able to satiate the hunger that came with the hunt and kill of my lambs?

Will these hunters be enough for me to kill?

Or will I revert back to the monster I was before Serena? Only time and killing will tell.

“You, Nate, will get nothing except the satisfaction of your death delivering my message to everyone waiting to come next. So, if I were you, I’d start talking, or the torture will be worse than anything the demons in hell will throw at you when you get there.”

Nate’s throat bobs and sweat begins to glisten across his forehead.

He turns away, probably thinking she won’t hold true to her threat.

Oh, how little he knows about my venomous vixen.

At his snub, Serena jabs the knife under his kneecap, the small bone nearly dislodged from the force of her ire, and an ear shattering scream rips from Nate’s throat. “Fuck! You fucking bitc-”

She rips the blade out, blood seeping into his pants as she slams it into the other side, “That isn’t what I asked.” She slowly drags the knife across his skin, lifting it to watch the blood drip down the tapered end.

“Fame…” Nate wheezes.

“Fame?”

“The most notorious serial killer to ever live. Taking you out is the first step”

“Is that it?” Serena asks, annoyed.

“Yes!”

She steps closer, ripping his shirt open and sending the buttons flying. “Now, why don’t I believe you?” she asks, dragging the knife over his chest.

“I swear it’s the truth.”

His nipple goes flying, and I make a mental note to find that to dispose of later. “Money!” he squeals like the pig he is.

“See; was that so hard?” She slices the other nipple off with a delicate flick of her wrist.

“What the fuck, cunt! I answered your question!”

“You did, but I couldn’t leave you uneven. Next question, and if you answer with no backtalk I might not use this on…” She points the blade down his body, and his eyes get so big they would pop out of his head if I didn’t remove one earlier.

“How does this kill list work?”

He coughs, but answers without a retort.

“Cynthia sent untraceable letters to serial killers around the states. There was a number to place your bid, and coded details for an offshore account to get your spot after you submitted money.” His voice becomes raspy, the more he speaks.

“I was the lowest bidder, so I got first dibs.

Whoever kills you gets all the money in the account, minus Cynthia's normal cut, and the money stays in the pot until someone succeeds.

It's a lot. It would even tempt lover boy over there. "

Serena stares impassively at Nate. “See? Was that so hard? I guess you get to keep your balls. For now.” Nate tries to cover himself, but his hands don’t reach.

“Next question. Do you know why she’s doing this?

” My head tilts at the question we know the answer to.

She’s a distraction according to my mother, is she trying to see if he’s telling the truth or searching for something else?

He barks a laugh, blood dripping down his chin “You think a woman like Cynthia would tell us why she wants you dead?” He scoffs, relaxing against the table.

“We’re just servants doing her bidding. She’s powerful.

She has eyes everywhere.” His eye meet Serena’s, his cockiness creeping back in. “You’ll never escape.”

Her fingers shift around the handle. “Last question. Who won the next bid?”

Nate’s eye darkens, a bloody smile twisting his bloated features. “The Twisted Trickster.” A maniacal laugh echoes around the room as my spine stiffens. Serena slices the knife across his throat, silencing Nate and watching the life drain from his eye.