My Bloody Valentine

29. Maya

29

MAYA

I stand in Adrian’s temperature-controlled tasting room, watching him transform before my eyes. The skeletal mask changes his entire presence—he is no longer the refined chocolatier but something more elemental, something that makes my breath catch.

“The key is precision,” Adrian explains, his voice steady as he positions Reynolds on the stainless steel table. A muffled cry escapes his lips as his eyes fill with panic. “Like tempering chocolate, every step must be exact.”

I nod, trying to slow my racing heart as Adrian makes the first careful incision. His movements are graceful and measured—nothing like the violent chaos I’d imagined. The bone saw glides with surgical accuracy.

“Notice the angle,” he instructs, adjusting Reynolds’ arm. “We want optimal flow into the collection vessels. Temperature and timing are crucial.”

The clinical nature of it all strikes me. This isn’t rage—it’s science and craft. Adrian could be demonstrating how to create a perfect ganache.

“The preservative ratios must be precise,” he continues, checking the levels in each sterile container. “Too much ruins the subtle notes. Too little...” He shrugs. “Well, we can’t have that.”

I watch him work, mesmerized by his expertise. Each cut, measurement, and careful extraction follows a refined methodology developed over years of practice. The room remains spotless—no splatter or mess, just clean, efficient collection.

“This is how we capture the essence,” Adrian explains, his gloved hands steady as he manages the flow. “Pure emotion, distilled to its basic elements. Like reducing a sauce to concentrate the flavors.”

The parallel to his chocolate work is impossible to miss. This is his kitchen, recipe, and technique, perfected through countless repetitions. I see now why his creations carry such profound emotional weight. The process itself is an art form.

I watch Reynolds’ eyes flutter, his struggles weakening. My heart pounds, but not from fear. Each labored breath draws me deeper into this forbidden dance. His final gasp feels like a crescendo—beautiful, terrible, perfect.

Adrian’s movements never falter as he collects the last of the blood. His precision entrances me. No splashed blood, no messy revenge—just pure, controlled power. Something about his clinical efficiency makes my skin prickle.

“Help me with the sanitization,” Adrian instructs, his voice steady behind the skull mask.

Adrian wraps Reynold’s lifeless body and takes it to the backroom—apparently, disposal is Gabe’s forte. A man I’m yet to meet but terrified of because he kills people like Adrian. I move through the motions, wiping down surfaces with industrial cleaner and disposing of materials in their designated containers. My hands should be shaking. I should be retching, crying, and running. Instead, heat pools in my core as I watch Adrian’s careful movements.

The moral voice screams that I’ve crossed an unforgivable line. I’ve witnessed—no, participated in—a murder. But all I can focus on is the graceful way Adrian’s hands moved and how he transformed violence into art. The same hands that craft exquisite chocolates just orchestrated death with equal mastery.

“You’re quiet,” Adrian observes, removing his mask.

“I should be horrified,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “But I’m not. What does that make me?”

My body betrays me, responding to his proximity as he steps closer. The controlled power he displayed has awakened something innate in me. I’m aroused by his expertise, precision, his absolute command over life and death. The realization should disturb me more than it does.

“It makes you mine,” he answers.

I pull Adrian to me, my fingers gripping the fabric of his pristine shirt. His mask creates an otherworldly barrier between us, but I need to see his face. My touch is possessive as I lift the mask away, revealing piercing eyes that see straight through to my soul.

“You’re not running,” he breathes, still wearing his gloves. “You watched. You helped.”

“I couldn’t look away. The precision, the control...” My voice catches. “It was beautiful.”

Adrian’s lips crash into mine, and I taste mint and dark chocolate—pure him, no trace of Reynolds’ blood. He hasn’t sampled our work yet. This kiss is about us, about this moment of complete understanding.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for someone who could truly see? Who could appreciate the artistry?”

His gloved palm cradles my cheek, the latex cool against my flushed skin. “I never dared hope you’d embrace it so completely.”

“Show me everything,” I whisper. “I want to learn all of it—the collection, the preparation, how you blend it into your creations. Make me your true partner.”

Adrian’s eyes shine with unshed tears. “My Maya,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “My perfect, wicked angel. You’ve exceeded every dream I had for us.”

I press closer, feeling his heart thundering against mine. This should be wrong—we just ended a life together. But I feel whole, like I’ve finally found my true purpose. In Adrian’s arms, in his world of exquisite craftsmanship, I am home.

“I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life,” I confess. “Every taste, every review—it was all leading me here. To you.”

Adrian pulls back from our kiss, his eyes intense and searching. “I love you, Maya. More than I ever thought possible.”

My heart stutters. The words hang between us, heavy with meaning in this room. His gloved hand still cups my face, and I soften beneath his touch, closing my eyes.

The words are there, lodged in my throat. I feel them—God, do I feel them—but they refuse to come out. Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe I need time to process what we just did together. Or maybe I’m afraid that saying it will make this all too real.

Instead, I pull him back to me, letting my kiss say what I can’t voice yet. His mouth is demanding, claiming me as thoroughly as his hands did moments ago. I sense his devotion and complete acceptance of who I am—even the blackest parts I never knew existed until he awakened them.

“You don’t have to say it,” he murmurs against my lips. “I see it in your eyes. I sense it in your response to me.”

Relief floods through me. Of course he understands. Adrian always understands the things I can’t express. Just like I understand the emotions he infuses into his creations.

I press closer, my fingers tangling in his hair. Our bodies fit together perfectly, like we were crafted for each other. His hands slide down my back, holding me steady as my knees weaken.

The love I feel for him terrifies me with its intensity. It’s too vast, too consuming. But I’m not ready to name it yet. Not here, not now, with Reynolds’ blood still cooling in its collection vessels.

Adrian breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my neck. “Take your time, baby,” he whispers. “We have forever.”

Adrian leads me to the preparation room, my heart pounding in anticipation. The air is chilled and scented with chocolate and blood. Knives lay on the stainless steel counter, their edges glinting in the stark overhead lighting.

“You know what I need,” I say, my voice breathless, eager.

Understanding passes between us—a language only we speak.

His eyes burn with greed. “I want to see your blood. I want to taste you.”

The admission sends heat pooling to my core.

He pushes me gently against the counter, sending knives clattering. I know the blade he selects without looking—the perfect weight and sharpness.

“Please,” I breathe, closing my eyes as the cold steel presses against my skin. I’m trembling, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

The first cut is always the deepest. An offering.

The metallic bite of the knife is followed by a rush of sensation—sharp and immediate. My eyes fly open, the room spinning slightly as I take in the sight of my blood, vibrant and glistening, against Adrian’s pale skin.

He brings his wrist to his lips, tasting me. “More,” he demands, his eyes darkening.

I tilt my head back, exposing my neck. The blade glides again, deftly slicing through my skin to reveal the ruby liquid beneath. Adrian laps at the wound, his tongue greedy.

His touch, his mouth—every sensation is magnified. My senses are overwhelmed, and my breath comes in short gasps, my body arching toward him. His teeth scrape gently against my skin, sending shards of pleasure and pain through me.

We are both on the edge, needing to tear into each other with our hands and mouths. I yank at his shirt, feeling the taut muscles of his chest, and he growls, pulling me closer. His mouth is savage and hungry as it claims mine, fueling the desperate need churning inside me.

Adrian’s hands are everywhere, feverishly tearing at the barriers between us. I feel his fingers tangling in my hair, tugging slightly, adding to the sharpness of our kisses. Teeth scrape, tongues intertwine, and I want to consume him.

He lifts me onto the counter, our lips never parting, and I wrap my legs around his waist. His hands slide under my thighs, giving him better access, and I can feel his arousal pressing against me. It’s a delicious torture, knowing what’s to come.

With one swift motion, he rips open my blouse, buttons popping and scattering across the floor. His eyes flash at the reveal of my lace bra, and he leans in, mouth descending to tease my breasts while his hands slide down to the hem of my skirt. With a flick of his wrist, my blouse joins the skirt on the ground.

I want to feel his skin, so I reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. His chest rises and falls rapidly beneath my fingertips, and I savor the feel of his smooth, hard muscles.

But it’s not enough.

I need more.

Tugging at his belt, I try to free him from the last constraints. He helps me now, both of us frantic, desperate to be as close as two people can be.

Adrian’s hands are on me again, stealing my breath as his lips assault my neck. He lowers me back on the counter, my legs still wrapped around him.

“Please,” I breathe, needing no more words than that.

His response is to grab a length of rope from nearby and secure my wrists above my head, tying them with a swift, practiced motion. I’m at his mercy now, spread out before him. His eyes hold mine as he wastes no time plunging into me.

The force of his thrusts steals my breath. Raw need takes over as we move together—a primitive dance as ancient as time. No words are needed; our bodies speak their language of hunger.

Adrian’s mouth seeks mine, and our kissing becomes rough, tasting each other, devouring. I can feel his breath hot against my skin, the scrape of his teeth, the urgency of his movements.

“More,” I command, pulling Adrian closer.

He obliges, thrusting deeper. The table is cold against my back, but his body radiates heat, branding me with possession.

“Say it again.” His voice is rough.

“Say what?” I gasp as he fills me completely.

“That you’re mine. That you want me to mark you. Again.”

“I’m yours, Adrian. Only yours. Mark me, claim me.”

His eyes darken. “Where?”

I swallow hard, a rush of heat pooling between my legs. “Everywhere.”

Adrian groans, his grip on my hips tightening. He thrusts harder, fucking me like an animal. “Like this? Rough and deep?”

“Yes.” My voice is hoarse. “Harder.”

He complies, his body slamming into mine with each powerful thrust. I moan, my back arching off the table.

“Look at me, Maya. I want to see your eyes when I?—”

“Take me,” I interrupt, meeting his intense gaze. “Brand me with your touch, your bite. Make me yours forever.”

He growls, his mouth crashing down on mine. His kiss is devouring, taking what he wants from my mouth. His teeth scrape my lips, and he nips gently.

I’m aware of the room around us—the chill in the air, the faint scent of bleach from cleaning up, but it all feels distant, unimportant.

The only reality is Adrian. I feel his skin against mine, his heart pounding in rhythm with mine, and the way our bodies move together in perfect synchronicity.

“You like it when I’m rough, don’t you?” He pulls out almost entirely, then thrusts back into me, filling me deeply.

“Yes,” I pant. “Take me like you mean it.”

His mouth curves into a satisfied smirk, and he obeys, slamming into me with a force that makes the counter shudder. “Like that?”

“Harder.” My voice is a challenge, daring him to give me more. “I need more, Adrian.”

He leans in close, his breath hot against my ear. “I’ll give you more, but not just yet. I plan to savor you, little critic. Draw out this pleasure until you’re begging.”

I moan, my body already on edge. “You’re torturing me.”

“And you love it,” he breathes, his lips trailing down my neck, teeth scraping gently. “Share your needs with me.”

“You know what I need.” My voice is a whisper, daring him to defy me. “What we both crave.”

“You crave, don’t you?” His eyes burn with a wild intensity. “You hunger for it as much as I do.”

I arch my back, urging him to thrust deeper. “Yes. I want it all, Adrian. The pleasure, the pain, everything you’re willing to give.”

The sound of his laugh is pure sin. “You won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow. I plan to leave my marks all over that exquisite body of yours.”

“Then do it.” My voice is fierce, wanting to push him further. “Scar me. Make everyone who sees me know that I’m yours.”

The scent of blood and sex fills the room, intoxicating my senses. Adrian’s body covers mine, his weight pressing me into the table, branding me with his possession. The cuts he’s made on my body throb with pleasure, and I crave more. I want his marks all over me, inside me. His teeth scrape my shoulder, his mouth hot against my skin, and I moan, bucking my hips to meet his thrusts.

“Say it again.” His breath fans my neck, his lips brushing my ear. “Tell me I own you.”

“I’m yours,” I pant, heat flooding my core. “Adrian, take me—all of me.”

He growls, his hands tightening on my hips. His thrusts become more urgent, filling me completely. “Say my name.”

“Adrian,” I cry out, my body arching off the table. “I’m yours, Adrian. Only yours.”

“Say it again.” His grip is almost bruising, his need feral. “Louder. Let me hear you surrender.”

“Adrian!” The word is ripped from my throat, my voice hoisting as pleasure coils within me. “I’m yours! I’m yours!”

His mouth finds mine, kissing me fiercely. Our tongues dance in rhythm to the thrust of his hips, and I can taste our pleasure on his lips. His hands move to grip my ass, lifting me to meet him, and he drives into me with relentless force.

I can feel him everywhere—in my veins, in my heart, in my very soul. This man owns me, body and mind, and he’s carved out a space in the darkest part of me that only he can fill.

Adrian groans, his body tensing. “Look at me, Maya. I want to see your eyes when you come.”

I force my heavy lids open, my gaze locking with his as pleasure crashes over me like a wave. I’m aware of everything—the sounds of our labored breathing, the slick slide of our bodies, the tang of copper and salt on my tongue. I’m drowning in sensation, knowing we’ve crossed a line together. This is more than sex, more than murder. It’s a celebration of the darkness within us both.

The orgasm tears through me, more powerful than any I’ve experienced before. I cry out, my body shaking, and Adrian follows, his release flooding into me.

He collapses on top of me, his breath hot against my neck, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close. We’re sweaty and sated, our bodies still joined.

“I love you,” he whispers, brushing my damp skin. “I should feel guilty, but I don’t. I feel alive.”

“Me, too.” I pull him tighter, not wanting any space between us. “We’re connected forever now. Bound by blood.”

Adrian lifts his head, his eyes searching my face. “Maya, my beautiful dark angel... Do you regret what we’ve done?”

I reach up to stroke his face, my fingers tracing the sharp angles of his cheekbones. “No. We’re beyond regret, Adrian. We’ve created something unique, something that transcends morality. It’s just us now. No one else will ever understand.”

He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “We’re bound, you and me. Our souls intertwined. No one can judge us. Not when they don’t know the true depth of human connection.”

I run my free hand through his hair, my heart aching with a love I never thought possible. “We’re not monsters, Adrian. We’re just two twisted people who found each other. We’ve pushed boundaries, but we’ve also created art. This,” I make a motion toward the room, to the collection vessels, “reflects our passion, our obsession. There’s beauty in it, too.”

Adrian’s eyes shine with unshed tears. “You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whisper, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You and me. We’re the same. We see beauty in places others fear to look. It’s not wrong, Adrian. It’s just us.”

He closes his eyes, a wave of emotion washing over him. “I’ve always felt alone, even in a crowd. But with you, I feel whole. Like we’re two halves of a broken soul.”

“You’re not alone anymore,” I assure him, wishing I could erase the pain in his eyes. “You have me. No matter what, I’m here. Your partner, your lover, your coconspirator.”

He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm, moving lower to gently kiss the pulse point of my wrist. “I’ll make us something,” he promises. “Something that symbolizes this moment.”

I shiver, both from the idea and the intimate way he’s touching me. “You don’t have to. This moment is enough. We don’t need symbols; we have each other.”

“But I want to. It will be my gift to you, a physical representation of what we share.” He leans in, his lips hovering over my pulse. “We are infinite, you and I.”

His lips softly brush my wrist, feather-light touches sending shivers down my spine. I feel marked not just by his bites but by the gentle caress of his mouth.

“Together,” I echo, a promise and a plea. “Always.”