Page 27 of Signed in Blood

Seconds later, I kiss her lips. Feeling the heat of them between us, it’s so hot it can start a fire on its own. Once I see the blaze in her stare, I know she’s ready and I let her go.

It’s time for her to follow through.

And then, I’ll have her again…

To remind her who she belongs to.

* * *

Lilith

* * *

Lucifer leaves without a trace. A kiss that I close my eyes for was his goodbye. The moment I open them, he’s gone and all that’s left is the sound of a prick on a bridge just off in the distance.

Jake takes one last hit off his joint before he tosses it to the ground. The crows caw and I close my eyes. They show me what will be. Him on the bike, outpacing me. Leaving me behind without a way to follow.

Panic floods my system as my eyes rip open. No. No. That can’t happen.

The moment he gets on the bike, I run toward him like a bat out of hell, still holding the knife. I’m quiet at first, but at the last second, he turns and sees me.

No one is around us, we’re completely alone; this is my opportunity and I seize it. Fuck it all. It’s not like I have anything to lose.

It’s all the adrenaline I need to attack him while he’s still on his bike. Closing my eyes, I imagine the crows swooping down, pecking at him, striking fear in his heart. And they obey.

I feel the crows surround us in a wicked storm of anger. The swooping, cawing, pecking at his hands and face until the bike falls beneath him and skitters across the ground are intoxicating. I’ve never felt so powerful as he screams out in both shock and pain. I jump toward him and we fall onto the snowy asphalt. It’s cold and hard as fuck, however, I don’t allow that to stop me. This is my chance and I’m taking it.

He struggles against me as I kick the bike away and grip his arm to keep him down. I whip the knife across his face but it barely grazes his cheek. The bright red stands out though in all the white snow.

“Fuck!” he screams out, slamming his fist across my chin, and it stuns me for a moment. I nearly drop the knife.

My biggest advantage is that he’s fucked up from all the drugs and his movements are sloppy and slow. I don’t waver in trying my best to get on top of him. We flop around back and forth, each of us trying to get the upper hand as we scramble.

“What the fuck?” he roars into the wind.

I huff, hissing, “You’re about to meet your maker.”

He freezes, but not for very long. His eyes reflect fear but also confusion.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He’s able to roll on top of me and I drop the knife. Instead, I use his own momentum to ram my finger in his eye.

My nails aren’t long, but in this moment, I picture my pointer being sharp and long as hell, more like a talon, and he screams bloody murder.

My bottom lip drops in disbelief. My nail grows and his eye pops and bleeds as he cries out in pain.

I shove my nail in there until the blood drops from his socket and I’m able to rip out his eyeball. It hangs from thin muscles and tissue and dangles on his cheek.

The horror of the sight doesn’t last long. The immediate satisfaction I feel of hurting him is a pleasure I sit in. He rolls over, his eye gushing with blood, and I don’t wait another second. I stand and kick him in the stomach with everything I have in me. I offer no sympathy. Looking up at the sky as the crows circle and caw, I call all my crows, ordering them to help me.

They move in a unit as they trail down in a fury. The wind from their speed forces my hair to blow behind me. My eyes widen as I watch them begin to claw at his flesh, ripping chunks off with their beaks. He screams, mirroring mine from the night he killed me. The crows caw, fresh skin dripping off their talons.

“More,” I command in a low breath as my chest rises and falls with heavy inhales. “To his bone!” I scream out and the crows release high pitched cackles as they tear the flesh from him. His jacket is shredded, his jeans torn, and his flesh bloody beneath him.

He tries to scream out, but cannot. I want to cut out his tongue.

Grabbing my knife, I make my way toward the man who killed me. Who raped me. Who sacrificed me as if I was nothing.

With a wave of my hand, the crows are dismissed and they leave him staggering. Red blood is splattered on the crisp white snow beneath him. His one eye is gone and cuts from the beaks of the crows litter across his tattered body. Still he manages to move himself, scooting away from me in a craze.