chapter nine
THE CREATURE
N o words could have described her at that moment.
It was painful to wrap my mouth around her flesh without getting a proper taste. The little sounds she made satiated me far more than her screams. I wanted to devour her until there was nothing left, until she was just a shaking, pathetic mess in my arms.
Alternatively, I wanted to shield her from the world and keep her in my room—like a pet.
There were only so many ways to captivate a thing like me, and Alina succeeded in every way I could think of.
To see her in this state, skin flushed with embarrassment, shame, and arousal.
My marks painted her body like a canvas, proudly announcing every bad intention so her body knew what was yet to come.
Even her skin tasted sweet, exactly as I imagined and more.
As I let go of her hair, she slumped backward. If my arm had not been around her waist, she would have fallen off my lap.
She fell asleep.
How irritating.
Alina’s head knocked sluggishly against my shoulder as I tugged her forward. Her peaceful expression was lit by only moonlight from the window, a defeated body collapsed in my arms. I could have taken her then, but for some unknown reason, I did not.
The image before me would be a keepsake in my mind if I let it burn long enough. It almost made me forget that dreadful itch to be angry with her for leaving me for sleep .
The night was too short. I wished I had longer. How terribly unfair.
I heaved her body up and made my way to her master bedroom, my favorite place in the entire city as of late.
Her living space was so familiar to me that I could paint a mental picture of every object in the room.
I knew where she kept her hairbrush, which drawer she put her stockings in, the way she tucked a four-inch barber’s blade under the left pillow, and the way she kept arsenic in the side drawer just in case.
I laid her out in the soft, silken sheets.
Tonight I was easy on her, but I was pleasantly surprised that she fought instead of struggling.
I meant it when I said I was proud, like a teacher who marveled at their pupil.
Surely she would only get more ferocious as I subjected her to every bad idea that crossed my mind.
It would be quite an exhibit to see how far I could push her before she crumbled.
I wanted to control whatever might move her.
Every inflection, tension, or release. Every push and pull. Every drop of blood or tears.
No exceptions.
It would all belong to me .
But for tonight, she earned some peace.
The thick smoke from my cigarette overwhelmed my lungs, filling them to capacity before being blown back out.
The ships bobbed lazily in the harbor, only illuminated by streetlamps and a stray flame here and there.
Bells occasionally chimed as the hulls swayed with each passing wake.
It was colder tonight—or should I say this morning?
There was an hour left of night cover before the sun would begin to burn the fog away.
My hunger affected my focus more than I cared to admit. I was becoming more irate with every minute that passed.
What the hell was I thinking?
I should have fed on Alina when I had the chance.
Made her scream my name and beg me to stop—or beg me to keep going.
Either would have taken the edge off this deep-set starvation that held me in its grasp.
Everything I fed on had disappointed me so far tonight.
I fantasized about how she may have tasted if I had sunk my teeth into her hours ago.
Nothing came close to even the scent of her.
The perfume clung to the inside of my nose, though it was fading fast, like a dream that did not wish to be remembered.
How could she sleep when faced with imminent danger? What an enigma.
And those curious eyes—the way she looked at me.
It vexed me.
No one had actively stuck their fingers in my mouth to inspect me like some kind of test subject before.
A small part of me wanted her to keep going, to explore me like I wanted to explore her.
To show her everything she wanted. Would she cower in fear the more I exposed to her?
Or would showing more of my creature habits excite her?
First rule of being a predator: do not get attached to food.
But what could I say? I was a man of indulgence.
She completely disregarded danger as she sank herself deeper in the name of curiosity.
It lit something within me. Scaring her was one thing, but I sensed something else when she observed me, like something to be cut open and examined.
She seemed almost relieved that I was no mere man.
I might be going about this the wrong way.
What made her tick? It was rare to find someone, a human no less, who held nature and all its creatures in such high regard. Maybe she could truly understand me. I did not know whether to be scared or aroused by her eagerness, especially if I might not keep her around.
But maybe I had to. She was too important to leave to her own devices. She would chase that high of discovery and fall into someone else’s hands. That would not do.
Thoughts of other people’s hands all over something that belonged to me made my hair stand on end. She was my meal. I’d earned it.
Stop.
I was getting too worked up.
Focus. Time to hunt.
I sucked the last bit of life out of my cigarette, stamping it out in the dirt.
A few stray commoners bustled about their early work routines. There was a dark-haired girl who dumped a bucket of questionable substances in the street over by the tavern.
Snatching her was quick. Her body was light like a feather. My hand clamped over her mouth as I dragged her into the alleyway.
Trembling with anticipation, I finally sank my teeth into her.
The heat flooded my mouth, and I was overcome by greed, biting harder to satiate the impulse.
She cried at the first long set of fangs that punctured her throat.
When the second set dug into her flesh, the venom relaxed her muscles, and blood ran faster from her feeble body.
It tasted bland , like bread made with no salt. Boiled meat with no herbs. Stale biscuits left in the open air overnight. The dull liquid drained until it ran dry in my mouth.
I forced myself to finish, trying to imagine that it was my dear shadow from earlier tonight. When I closed my eyes, I envisioned that sweet spice that would flood my senses, her thick black hair tangled around my fingers, those blue eyes wide with terror…
My stomach twisted, and I winced in pain. My meal was not agreeing with me, even when I tried hard to entice my appetite. I clenched my jaws harder, pulling a mouthful of flesh in frustration as the body fell.
When released, my prey folded like a sack of flour, a blunt thud on the ground.
I expelled the freshly extracted blood from my stomach, only to watch as it absorbed into the gravel.
Another wasted meal, just like the other three.
It was like the thought of Alina made everything taste bland, leaching all flavor and sustenance from anything I tried to consume. This must be how Tantalus felt—just slightly too far from his fruit.
She has cursed me, vile witch!
No matter how much I told myself she was only a meal, I knew I was lying. These changes were too sudden, catalyzed by my obsession.
For now, sustenance was needed. I would be trying all night long if that was what it took. I just needed more time.