Chapter 3 The Killer
The Killer
I WATCH FROM THE SHADOW of the church steeple as Arabella and her friend leave the market.
Arabella licks red juices from her fingers.
She is as sleek as the night itself in a black dress that hugs every curve of her body.
She’s shaved off her long curly hair since I last laid eyes upon her, giving me an exquisite view of her shapely skull.
Her eyes sparkle like twin emeralds, almost as bright as the jewels she stole from me.
Blood flows through my ancient veins, warming my body from the top of my head to my cock, which grows harder than it’s been in centuries. So hard that it’s painful.
I stroke it lovingly, astounded that even with everything broken between us, she can still stir such feelings within me.
My dick throbs, the pain exquisite as it pulses through my broken body.
After all I’ve endured to arrive at this very moment, I’ve had to learn to love agony.
It’s either that or be driven insane by it.
Perhaps I am not entirely sane. After all, I’m standing in a prickly bush beneath the symbol of a fallen god, getting off on the mere glimpse of a woman I once had at my mercy, while Arabella Macquart strolls around the village as if she owns it. As if she isn’t a liar and a thief.
But my luck is about to change, and so is hers.
Her long neck is bare, the surface of her dark skin shimmering as if dusted with gold. But I can sense the shadow of it on her – the thing she took from me.
The magic is here in Argleton. Even now, it calls to me, humming in my veins.
For decades I believed the collar was lost, but that was a lie spread by her tongue. Without the collar, she wouldn’t be here now, rich and flawless and the owner of a brand-new home in the controversial Sanctus Estate.
You’ve escaped me for centuries, but you can’t hide forever.
You’re mine now.
My bottom lip curls as my dick pulses. Arabella has what belongs to me. She has left me in misery for over one hundred and fifty years. Before I take back what’s rightfully mine, I will enjoy ruining everything she holds dear.
Mine.