Page 110 of The Cannibal

Such a wicked, devilish grin on the most nefarious Creature.

He pushed in a few more beads, leaning down to whisper in my ear as he stroked, our cheeks pressed together. “I believe it is your flesh afire.” His words were smooth like decade-old bourbon, a flavor so vivid in the mind I could feel it on my tongue before the desire desiccated into a moan.

I gasped when he pressed farther, a crowded pressure from the inside, the slick pearls easily slipping to the back as his fingers moved.

“Such a rare beauty requires an appropriate amount of care, especially when handling,” he said, the last pearl pressing inside as he held his hand there. “You’ll carry them delicately, won’t you?”

He removed his fingers from me, the crucifix dangling down, held by the pearls. It tickled against my thigh.

Silas looked sincere. “You’ll be paying for those if they drop and break.” He licked his fingers, the split tongue dancing over the wetness as he savored it. “We don’t want that.” He smiled.

“No, we don’t,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean you’re getting them back at the end of the night.”

“We will see,” he accepted the challenge, “though I don’t know how I feel negotiating with a thief.”

“You’re right, I could steal far more than pearls.” I stood from the chair slowly. The necklace was secure, the cross pressed between my thighs.

I stepped up to the mirror, smoothing my hands down my waist and hips to get a feel for the shape and cut. The dress was rather beautiful, a bit more reflective. With the tighter fit and gloss of the fabric, it looked quite seductive; possibly too much so.

Silas stood beside the mirror, simply watching.

I did a turn, then gathered my hair to imagine the completed look.

It was hard to look at myself in the mirror. A strange concoction of shame and vanity. My skin was so pale it was comparative to marble, blemishless, smooth, and pink undertones had to fight to come through. Some veins of my arms appeared black, easily mistaken for a smear of charcoal here and there.

The poliosis among black hair made my eyes a bit frightening with my already peculiar appearance.

“I’m dreadful.” I bit my lip as I studied myself.

Silas stepped up, looking in the mirror as he stood behind me to see as I saw myself. He tipped his head, touching my arms to pull them away from my hair and let it fall. With gathering hands, he draped the midnight waves down my back, clearing the way to see my face and neck more.

“You are the most terrifying woman,” he said with such adoration, “you could stop a heart with just a flutter of those pretty lashes.”

I avoided my reflection for the view of the floor.

Silas took my head between his hands and pointed my face back to the mirror. I stared at his eyes through the reflection.

“One would be so lucky to see those eyes before they pass, and if they somehow survived, they may become a poet just to tell the tale,” he said pointedly.

I didn’t want to look sad, but somehow I found myself melting.

“Wear this for me?” he asked so sweetly, his hands smoothing down either side of my neck before placing his lips on my shoulder, “it’s just the household tonight before we have to perform for guests.”

I leaned back into him, and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, squeezing tightly as he kissed the side of my face.

Tonight’s dinner was buffet style. The entire dining table was full of small plates and bite-sized food. Just a taste test for the dinners of the days to come. One half was the designated menu for the Hosts, the other half was for the Vipera palate.

The teardrop pearls in my ears tickled my skin as they swayed, so did the crucifix between my legs with each sweep of my heel. My hair was mostly up, the length that wasn’t pinned was finely curled and draped over my shoulder. Multiple layers of pearls secured high on my neck and then some slightly looser fell between my breasts. The opera gloves cut off mid-biceps, and my rings shimmered over the silk of my fingers.

My most important accessory—Silas’s arm looped through mine.

He wore a black set, as usual, except his tie and handkerchief matched my dress, and a mother-of-pearl collar pin.

“My dear girl, you are simply haunting,” Phoebe’s voice chirped as she came to my other arm, then surprisingly, a playful nip at my ear.

“Are you already drunk?” I pinched her chin and shook it.

“Only five.”