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And then I plunge it into his blood-clogged throat, slicing quickly, barely avoiding the spray of blood from his carotid. I think some may have gotten in my hair.
I stand before the corpse, breathing hard, noting a wet patch in the front of his pants. I will never cease to find the way the dead cannot hold their bowels or bladder disgusting.
Undignified.
I use Diana’s duvet to wipe the majority of the blood from the blade before I re-sheath it. Mother Catherine will clean it completely for me before I return it to Hank’s office. Discarding one of the black gloves I wore, I text Hank the address and a bomb emoji. It’s our code to “explode” the evidence.
With my still-gloved hand, I go into Rick’s pants pocket and find his wallet soaked in blood. His ID is stained around the edges. I take it with me as I head home.
As always, adrenaline surges through me after a kill, tightening my pants and making my heart beat stronger. It is a gamble going to see Diana now. I may not be able to control myself in front of her, and it is not yet time for me to claim her as mine in the flesh.
I check to make sure my boots have no blood on them — they don’t — before I enter my home and head down to the basement. It is past one in the morning, but Diana is awake, humming, holding the bear in one arm against her chest.
How beautiful she looks, more innocent than she is. My cock insists I take her now, but I must restrain myself, or I will undo all the work I began within her. I am no longer the man I once was, and I need to remember that. As alluring as she is, as much as my darkness demands the feel of her soft flesh beneath me, I must resist.
Being the junior pastor has its perks in that I have my pick of single women within the community to take my passions out on should I require it, though I typically choose Lisa. I’mmost comfortable with her, seeing as I’ve known her my entire life. However, I don’twanther.
I want the sweet, strong, beautiful creature in the bed before me.
Diana looks at me and her eyes widen. Does she see blood? The bulge my black jeans will not hide?
I wait as I stand at the side of her bed, wondering what she will say.
"You're wearing all black."
Huh. That was not what I expected. "Yes, I am."
"Is ... there a reason?"
I nod, handing her the blood-speckled driver's license. "Yes. I only wear black when I need to hide the bloodstains."
Chapter Thirteen
Diana
I BARELY HEAR Thomas’ knock; I’m too busy singing inside my mind, trying to calm myself as cabin fever still itches at the edge of my sanity.
I hate this. And yet … despite what he’s done to me, this is the safest I have ever been since Dad died.
The irony.
When I hear Thomas’ boots stop at my bedside, I look up at him and do a double take. If this was one of my beloved books, I’d say he had an evil twin.
I’ve never seen him in anything less formal than black trousers and a lightweight, usually white, button-down shirt, with his hair tied back, away from his face.
This man, with beautiful, wild blond curls let loose, in black jeans, motorcycle boots, shirt, and leather jacket, is a stranger. There is blood in his hair and a tent in his pants.
Blood.
I should be terrified.
All I am is curious. Especially since he just stares at me, not speaking.
"You're wearing all black."
He blinks, as if surprised at my words. "Yes, I am."
"Is ... there a reason?" That’s only part of my question. I want to know why he’s in black, why his whole demeanor has changed, and especially why there is blood in his curls.
