There’s something inside me that pulls beneath the surface … [R for imagery]
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Bella took a step back to admire her handiwork.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Dusky, hooded blue eyes scanned over the body hanging before her, blood writing patterns over pale skin as it followed gravity down, down until it dripped to the stone floor.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Without the screams, however, there was no reason to continue. For now.
It was true she could revive him with no more than a breath of a spell passing her lips, but just that moment her eyes ran over the network of cuts and slashes, and her mind turned. She’d needed something to help her think, help her remember.
Blood, pain and fear had always been the cocktail of choice. That Marcus desired her, desired the pain she kept for him only spiced it further. Death was the most intoxicating, but she would lose herself in such. Right now she needed to think.
And besides, Marcus Rosier would be loyal to the cause. He would bear the mark.
She had almost everything she needed now. Unless she found the last bit, however, all the research, all the planning and preparation - it would all be in vain.
But she would not let him down. No, never.
Running her thumb down the slice made deep in his chest, blood oozing beneath her touch and staining her already crimson skin further, Bella considered that she should sharpen her flechettes, the various blades used for just this kind of play.
Tipping her head, Bella traced a scarlet pattern over the skin untouched by her ministrations.
They were all fools. They all thought him gone.
If this was true, they would not yet bear his mark. It was magic, Tom’s essence in every single one. He was not gone, not while his mark yet marred all of them, perfect, though dormant.
If she could find that last piece of the puzzle, however, it would not be dormant for long.
But she couldn’t quite remember.
A flash of irritation lit her features and despite that she would not have the pleasure of his pain filling the chamber, she raked her nails down his body, tearing open several cuts further.
It was just beyond her reach. The last bit … it was hers for the taking. The answer was a tease in her mind, a spell she could not get past the tip of her tongue, a flavor she couldn’t quite place.
So many memories she had poured over and through, but she’d not found the right one yet. The answer was there somewhere in her own mind and it severely displeased her that she could not find it.
Marcus was the vent of her frustration.
She would have to heal him, she supposed, if she wanted to tear him apart again.
SUMMARY Bella’s plans are not coming together as she would like. She relieves her frustration with blood. [R for imagery]
Bella took a step back to admire her handiwork.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Dusky, hooded blue eyes scanned over the body hanging before her, blood writing patterns over pale skin as it followed gravity down, down until it dripped to the stone floor.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Without the screams, however, there was no reason to continue. For now.
It was true she could revive him with no more than a breath of a spell passing her lips, but just that moment her eyes ran over the network of cuts and slashes, and her mind turned. She’d needed something to help her think, help her remember.
Blood, pain and fear had always been the cocktail of choice. That Marcus desired her, desired the pain she kept for him only spiced it further. Death was the most intoxicating, but she would lose herself in such. Right now she needed to think.
And besides, Marcus Rosier would be loyal to the cause. He would bear the mark.
She had almost everything she needed now. Unless she found the last bit, however, all the research, all the planning and preparation - it would all be in vain.
But she would not let him down. No, never.
Running her thumb down the slice made deep in his chest, blood oozing beneath her touch and staining her already crimson skin further, Bella considered that she should sharpen her flechettes, the various blades used for just this kind of play.
Tipping her head, Bella traced a scarlet pattern over the skin untouched by her ministrations.
They were all fools. They all thought him gone.
If this was true, they would not yet bear his mark. It was magic, Tom’s essence in every single one. He was not gone, not while his mark yet marred all of them, perfect, though dormant.
If she could find that last piece of the puzzle, however, it would not be dormant for long.
But she couldn’t quite remember.
A flash of irritation lit her features and despite that she would not have the pleasure of his pain filling the chamber, she raked her nails down his body, tearing open several cuts further.
It was just beyond her reach. The last bit … it was hers for the taking. The answer was a tease in her mind, a spell she could not get past the tip of her tongue, a flavor she couldn’t quite place.
So many memories she had poured over and through, but she’d not found the right one yet. The answer was there somewhere in her own mind and it severely displeased her that she could not find it.
Marcus was the vent of her frustration.
She would have to heal him, she supposed, if she wanted to tear him apart again.
SUMMARY Bella’s plans are not coming together as she would like. She relieves her frustration with blood. [R for imagery]