My Bloody Valentine

35. Epilogue

MAYA

One year later…

A light snow falls outside the cabin windows as I watch Adrian meticulously lay out his tools on the wooden table. The leather restraints catch the firelight, worn smooth from use. His white skull mask rests beside them, empty eye sockets staring at the ceiling. The small knife we use for blood play gleams—clean, sharp, waiting.

I watch his fingers trail over each implement. Even after a year together, seeing his preparations makes my pulse race. The cabin creaks around us, winter wind whistling through the trees outside. We’re miles from Chicago, alone in this remote corner of Wisconsin.

“Cold, little critic?” Adrian’s voice has that dangerous edge that pools heat in my belly.

I wrap my arms around myself, though the chill I feel has no relation to the temperature. “A little.”

He picks up the knife, testing its edge with his thumb. “I’ll warm you up soon enough.”

The casual way he handles the blade, so comfortable with its lethal potential, reminds me of how far we’ve come. A year ago, I would have been shocked by this scene.

Adrian lifts the skull mask and turns it in his hands. The bone-white surface catches shadows from the fire, making it seem alive. My breath quickens as he sets it back down and reaches for the restraints.

“Come here,” he commands softly.

I move toward him with a racing pulse, equal parts fear and anticipation coursing through my veins. The leather feels cool against my skin as he tests the first restraint, checking the give.

The firelight flickers across Adrian’s face as he fastens the last restraint. My mind drifts to how different this Valentine’s Day is from last year’s chaos. Back then, I was still fighting my nature. Now, I understand it’s as much a part of me as my ability to detect the emotions hidden in every dish.

“What are you thinking about?” Adrian’s fingers trace my collarbone.

“How much has changed.” I lean into his touch. “The boutique’s special collection this year... the way people practically fought over those limited truffles.”

He smiles, knowing exactly what makes those particular chocolates so coveted. We’re more selective about whose essence we capture, but the results are undeniable. Each piece tells a story and holds an intensity that keeps Chicago’s elite returning for more.

“Gabe seems happy,” I murmur, thinking of how he and Amelia dance around each other at The Blue Room. Her paintings hang on the walls now, splashes of deep color that perfectly match his jazz. They’ve found their own balance of light and shadow.

Adrian’s hand slides up to my throat. “And you? Are you happy?”

I don’t have to pretend in this isolated cabin, miles from our carefully maintained public life. Don’t have to hide behind polite smiles and professional critiques.

“Happier than I ever thought possible.” The words come out breathless as his grip tightens slightly. “Though I never imagined I’d find joy in such twisted places.”

His other hand reaches for the mask. “Show me just how twisted you’ve become.”

I watch Adrian slide his skull mask into place, transforming him from a sophisticated chocolatier into something more savage. My heart pounds as he lifts the red rope, his movements precise and practiced.

“Arms up,” he commands softly.

I comply without hesitation, trusting him completely as he wraps intricate patterns across my body. The rope slides against my skin in an elaborate dance, each knot and twist perfectly placed. Adrian’s skill with shibari never fails to amaze me - the way he can turn simple cord into art.

His fingers caress my neck as he secures another line. The skull mask tilts as he studies his work, ensuring the tension is exactly right—not too tight, not too loose—perfect control.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, admiring the geometric patterns now decorating my form. I’m completely immobilized, yet I’ve never felt more free. This is who we truly are beyond the refined facade of the boutique, beyond society’s constraints.

The knife appears in his hand, moonlight glinting off the polished steel. He traces the blade’s flat surface along the rope lines, following his created paths. The cool metal raises goosebumps on my skin.

“Are you ready, baby?” The mask can’t hide the dangerous edge in his voice.

I nod, already floating in that space where fear and desire blend into pure sensation. “Yes.”

The first bite of the blade is exquisite, a bright line of awareness that makes me gasp. Adrian knows how much pressure to use and how to walk that perfect line. The rope holds me steady as he works, creating his masterpiece in crimson and shadow.

He starts with my blood, tracing the tip of the knife along a vein in my forearm. My breath hitches as I anticipate the sharp slice that will open me and expose me to him. He takes his time, dragging the blade lightly over my skin, drawing a whimper from deep in my throat.

“You like this, don’t you?” His words ghost across my skin like a lethal caress, sending shivers through me.

I want to answer, to tell him how much this awakens me, but all I can manage is a nod. My eyes are fixed on the knife, watching his skilled hands guide it.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take too much.” His thumb brushes the vein, and I feel a tiny prick. “Just enough to add to tonight’s dessert.”

Heat pools between my legs at the thought, even as I feel a brief sting and the warm trickle of blood. I know now why he insisted on the skull mask. It’s not just about anonymity—it’s a reminder that this is about facing our deepest fears and pushing boundaries.

Adrian secures the vial of my blood, and his eyes drift down my bound body. “Now, let’s see what else I can take from you.”

His mouth replaces the knife, tracing the path he cut with his lips and tongue. My back arches instinctively, craving more contact, but the restraints hold me fast. His hands grip my hips, holding me still as he tastes me with his teeth and his tongue.

“So responsive.” His hot breath washes over my sensitive skin. “How do you feel? Vulnerable, perhaps?”

I nod, breathless, already aching for more. “Yes. I... I feel exposed, on display.”

A low chuckle vibrates against my skin. “But do you feel fear?”

“Not of you.” My answer is immediate. “Never of you.”

“Of what, then?” His mouth continues its assault, his tongue flicking over a particularly sensitive spot that makes my whole body spasm.

“Of myself.” The words spill out, raw and honest. “I fear how much I crave this and need it.”

His mouth pauses in its work, and he looks up at me through the eye sockets of the mask. “You don’t have to be afraid, Maya. Not with me.”

I tremble as his lips close over my clit, his tongue swirling, teasing. “But you bring out this side of me—a side I don’t fully recognize.”

He releases the bud with a soft pop, trailing kisses up my torso. “It’s a part of you that’s always been there. I’m just helping you embrace it.”

His fingers join his mouth, slipping inside me, stroking, circling. My hips jerk against the restraints. His thumb finds that spot again, massaging, sending tendrils of pleasure throughout my body.

“Adrian, please.” The words are ripped from me as he continues his assault. “I need more. Please...”

A soft, knowing sound escapes him. “More, she says. As if I haven’t given you enough already.”

Then his mouth is on me, his tongue replacing his fingers, and I can’t form words anymore. I’m lost in the sensation, in the sharpness of pleasure that borders on pain. I writhe against the bindings, desperate for release, and he gives it to me with his lips and his tongue, driving me higher and higher until I shatter with a cry.

He undresses slowly, shedding his elegance with each article of clothing—the woolen vest, the crisp, white shirt, his shoes —polished to perfection—followed by socks that reveal tan, muscular legs. His movements are deliberate, making me wait for each new revelation.Revealing beautiful skin covered in dark ink that I love to trace with my tongue.

The fire crackles, casting dancing shadows across his body as he moves closer. The mask’s empty eye sockets stare back at me, daring me to look away. Anticipation thrums through me as his hands close around the waistband of his trousers.

Finally, his length springs free. It bobs with anticipation, a flesh-toned statue, veined and beautiful. My mouth waters at the sight, and my core clenches with longing.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he brings his hand to his shaft, stroking. Teasing. His gaze holds mine, daring me to look away, but I’m powerless. Each stroke makes me crave him more.

“Do you want this?” His voice is rough as he teases himself. “Do you want me to fill you?”

I whimper, the restraints biting into my skin as I strain against them, desperate to touch him, to feel him inside me. “Please. Adrian, please...”

He leans forward, his lips brushing my ear. “Say it. Beg for it.”

“I need you inside me.” My voice is a husky plea. “Please, fuck me. Claim me.”

A low growl rumbles in his throat as he positions himself at my entrance. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he sinks into me, inch by exquisite inch. I moan at the fullness, at the stretch.

He stills, buried deep within me, and his hands tighten on my hips. “You feel so damn tight around me, baby. Like a glove, custom-made just for my cock.”

His words thrill me, and I revel in the sensation of being completely filled by him. My head falls back, exposing the line of my throat. “Move,” I whisper. “Please, Adrian...”

His hands slide up my body, cupping my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples. “How could I deny such a sweet plea?”

He withdraws, then thrusts again, deeper this time, finding a new angle that has me crying out. He repeats the motion, each thrust harder than the last, sending shocks of pleasure through me. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, mingling with my cries.

I’m lost in the pleasure, in the way he commands my body. Each thrust brings me closer to the edge. I strain against the restraints, desperate for more.

“Tell me, Maya.” His voice is a husky demand. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You, Adrian. It’s yours.” My words are breathless, surrendered.

He growls, his thrusts becoming more urgent. The room fills with the scent of sex, sweat, and the musky fragrance of our passion. I’m dimly aware of the fire crackling of the snow falling outside, but all I truly know is him.

“You’re going to come so hard on my cock, baby.” There’s a challenge in his tone. “I want to feel every muscle clench.”

His simple demand is all it takes to send me spiraling over the edge. I sob his name, my release claiming me completely.

His rhythm falters as my body tightens around him. With a final, hard thrust, he finds his own release. His cock pulsing inside me as he releases a guttural groan. We remain joined, panting, clinging to one another.

Slowly, he withdraws, and I feel his cum leaking from me. He brushes the hair from my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. His other hand removes the mask, revealing his eyes burning with intensity.

“You own me,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “Completely and utterly.”

He captures my mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue battling with mine. I savor the taste of him.

Adrian unfastens the ropes, and I rub the superficial marks on my skin. He slumps down beside me, and I rest my head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin, and I feel utterly at peace despite the rope marks and small cuts decorating my body.

“I never thought I’d find someone who understands me,” I whisper, kissing his collarbone. “Who sees the true me and loves me not despite it, but because of it.”

Adrian’s hand stills on my back. “You changed everything, Maya. Before you, I was just going through the motions. Empty.” His voice carries a vulnerability I rarely hear. “You filled that void with something I didn’t know I was missing.”

I lift my head to meet his gaze, seeing the raw emotion in his eyes. “I love you, Adrian Vale. All of you—the sophisticated chocolatier, the dangerous predator, every complex layer in between.”

His fingers glide along my cheek, tender despite the strength I know they possess. “And I love you, my perfect little critic. You’re my masterpiece, my perfect match.” He pulls me closer, his lips ghosting over my forehead. “You complete me in ways I never thought possible.”

We lie in comfortable silence, the fire glowing warmly over our intertwined bodies. There are no masks or pretenses—just us, stripped bare of everything except our love for each other. It’s beautiful in its simplicity.

“Stay with me forever?” Adrian’s question hangs in the air.

I smile against his skin. “Always. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Who would have thought that I, Maya Kendall—respected food critic and voice of culinary truth—would find my home in the arms of a serial killer?

In his arms, watching the snowfall outside our secluded cabin, I finally understand what belonging truly means. It’s not about fitting into society’s mold or meeting others’ expectations. It’s about finding someone who sees your darkness and says, “Me too.”

Thank you for reading My Bloody Valentine! Did you enjoy it? If so, I have a similar style book, Silent Stalker .