Page 56 of Venomous Desires

Only if there’d be a next time.

I stepped back, watching as the life drained from him, his body convulsing in its final throes. As his last breath rattled out, I threw the holder and stood, feeling a strange sense of peace wash over me.

For now.

A whimper fell upon my ear, and turned towards the source to find the priest still hiding behind the Altar if that’d save him if I decided to take his soul too.

I almost rolled my eyes as he chanted something with a cross in front of his face.

“Greetings,” I smiled charmingly at him as he shuffled backwards, tears streaming down his face. I waved at him, and he screamed in horror before running away from me.

I furrowed my brows in confusion and glanced at my hands again.

Blood. My hands were covered in it, the sticky fluid coating my skin.

The thrill of the chase, the hunt, the inevitable catch—it was intoxicating.

But sometimes, I forget how terrifying I could be to others.

I sighed, wiping my hands on the tattered remains of Dontello’s jacket, the fabric soaking up the blood greedily. As the adrenaline began to fade, I glanced around the Church. Ten dead men met their fate. And this Church would’ve been left alone if Dontello would’ve just decided to stay at home instead of coming here to fuck the nuns.

The man couldn’t keep it in his pants.

I sighed, and without turning around, I sensed his presence.He just wouldn’t leave me alone.

“You enjoy scaring the hell out of people, don’t you?” Kyle walked through the door with body bags, and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s not my fault they scare so easily.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow, crouching down and pushing the dead bodies into the bag. “Still, you should be more careful. We don’t need unnecessary attention.”

I crossed my arms. “And what would you have me do? Let him have her?”

He sighed. “Try to keep a lower profile. For your sake.”

A smile tugged at my lips as I considered the irony. Here I was, drenched in blood, being lectured about subtlety.

I met his gaze. Anyway, he was right, as much as I hated to admit it. Drawing too much attention could spell disaster for both of us when I was this close to my goal.

“Fine,” I muttered. “But I can’t promise I’ll be a saint.”

The bastard smirked, hauling two bodies over his shoulders. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

The stained-glass windows and the scent of incense invoke memories. My mother used to take us to the Church every Sunday. She believed that God there could take away whatever demon was inside me.

I still visit Churches, though this time not to exorcise the demon inside but to unleash it.

I pulled the cigar from my coat and lit it. Putting the bud in my mouth, I inhaled and let the smoke rush through my brain, and puffed out.

In twenty-nine years, I’ve never committed a mass murder impulsively. One would think it would be satisfying, but instead, there’s a hollow where my heart should be according to human anatomy. Was it normal that only a few emotions surged through me—rage, thrill—but never have I felt this out of control?

For a woman on top of that.

She consumed my thoughts, an obsession that burned hotter than anything I’d ever known.

I wanted her.

I wanted to possess her, to make her mine in every way.