Razors & Ruin (Rare Horrors #1)

Chapter 23

23

Nellie

H aving escaped the stupid square-dance, I emerge into the courtyard just in time to see Sweeney and Bee vanish behind a wall of green.

My vantage point beside the fountain is as close as I dare get, but it’s close enough to see all too well.

Watching my man’s cock disappear between the lips of another woman is a whole new experience, and the pain is like a vice around my heart.

I want to hate him for what he’s doing now, but the pull toward him is too strong. The things we’ve done to each other. For each other.

Yet I detect a reticence in Sweeney’s movements; not for her will he grasp and pound like he wants to fuck a hole in the back of her skull.

He smells my pussy, sweet and true on the skin of his neck, and he doesn’t want this easy meat. He wants me .

Heat flares in my core. He’s flush with sex, ripe for it, but she’s leaching it away. Wasting it. What a crime .

Then just like that, Bee is on her feet and meandering my way. I glance at the ageless stars and thank them for their intervention, for I know at once what I must do.

Bee rounds the fountain and walks smack into me. “Oh! Eleanor,” she says breathily. “I’m glad to see you. I don’t feel at all well.”

I pull her onto the wet grass beside me and look her over. Fortune continues to smile on this ugly turn of events; her dress is mercifully high-necked and long-sleeved, and will fit me just fine. Her mask is of the hands-free variety, too, and in the dark, her hair is close enough to mine for me to pass.

I wonder if Mr. T zeroed in on her because of her resemblance to me?

“Poor thing,” I say, patting her shoulder. “You just take some deep breaths. You know. While you can.”

Somewhere in her poison-addled mind, an alarm goes off, but she hasn’t the wherewithal to react. She turns rheumy eyes to mine, the honey color now muddy, and watches dumbly as I close my hands around her throat.

It’s pathetic how little fight Bee puts up. Why have a life at all if you’re going to relinquish it so easily?

She folds onto her back like she’s boneless, and I lean my full weight onto her windpipe, enjoying the crack as it closes in my grip. Then something seizes her; her lizard brain gets the message and sends her into a frenzy of struggle, her limbs thrashing.

Fuck, she’s making noise. I shift position and drop my knee onto her neck, holding her mouth and nose closed with both hands, and apply as much pressure as I can.

I don’t want her to bleed on the dress, so there’s nothing for it but to crush the air from her lungs. My gaze is fixed on hers as her movements slow, her eyes darkening as the light goes out from within.

Oh Lawd. Take ‘er and ‘er whore cunt into thy service, in mercy’s name, Amen.

I roll her toward the hedge. It casts a long shadow, which gives me enough coverage to strip out of my dress. I drag Bee’s frock over her head and put it on before kicking her into the border, where she’s obscured by a bed of cow parsley.

Should I dress her in my outfit? Give her a little dignity?

Fuck it. And fuck her . I was right—the stink of her pussy was vile up close. She’ll stink worse before long, but Beatrix Wetherby is no longer my concern. My Mr. Todd needs his Nellie.

I secure the mask and emerge into the light, heading for the trellis and my man.