Femme Fatale (Black Rose Book 2) Read Free

possibly unleash something inside you, something you’re not even conscious is a part of your psyche. Just think… there could be a killer residing in you. I must say that I’m intrigued with the thought of my innocent little captive harboring something so dark.”
    She looks at me dubiously before she responds.
    “I’ve never killed anyone. What could it possibly unleash inside me?”
    “You must have some darkness, or you would never have been drawn to me. The darkness in me calls out to the shadows lurking in your soul, beckoning you to come out and play in my meadow of mayhem. You’re not as innocent as you would like to believe you are.”
    “I just want to help avenge this woman.”
    I move closer, pinning her to the wall, and smirk when I sense her breath quicken. It pleases me to watch her eyes dilate in response to the fear of not knowing what I might do to her. I’m a man who feeds off other people’s fear, but only my Melanie is privy to the sexual sadist side of me. Since I have been restraining myself from killing, she has, thankfully, been able to sate the bloodlust that plagues me. It’s a feeling similar to that of a drug intravenously weaving its way through my physical being; it’s an addiction I cannot curb. I never had any desire to stop killing; it was only for my family that there was such a lengthy hiatus.
    My fingers slowly and methodically twirl a piece of her hair, starting out with a gentle touch and working my way into a rough tug. I pull her into my face so that we’re nose to nose and hiss out my words in a menacing tone, almost as if I am accusing her, and maybe I am.
    “And now… after all this time, you ask me to kill?”



Chapter Three
    Melanie
    Though my husband hasn’t agreed to what I asked him to do, he hasn’t necessarily refused either. Even after years of being married to him, his temperament is one that keeps me guessing. I’m feeling pretty confident at this point. My reasoning is that if he were truly unwilling to avenge this woman, he would have adamantly refused when I presented the idea yesterday. The first thing I did this morning was search for and grab the magazine we’d discussed. I know my husband well enough to know that he’ll ask me about it later. He might even go so far as to base his decision to help me on whether or not I listened to his warning. Regardless, it is now in my bag, safely tucked away, and I will burn it in the fireplace later. Now, it’s time to gather more evidence. I feel an odd excitement I’ve never experienced before, like I’m on some secret mission to avenge the woman who was assaulted. In a sense, I guess I am.
    The patient is sleeping when I quietly slip into the room to gather Intel on her. I am well aware my husband has a code when it comes to killing. The accused has to be guilty, or he won’t go through with the kill. He doesn’t thrill kill; he does, however, avenge those worthy of being defended.
    I am taking it upon myself to gather details on the victim before my husband asks me for the information. Staying one step ahead on things will help my chances of him going through with it. Without Black Rose , successfully ridding the world of this man will be impossible, and he’ll continue preying on women while he lies to the public about who and what he really is. The villain has only added insult to injury by being so hypocritical.
    Making my way into the patient’s bathroom, I eye her make-up bag. Rummaging through the contents unearths a pill bottle, revealing she was already on anti-depressants before her traumatic assault. That isn’t good. It’s hard enough for any woman to deal with the shame and guilt of rape, but this means her agony had to have been intensified. The guilt women face at the hands of their attackers is one of the main reasons I want to kill the man. Over and over, I’ve heard women blame themselves for the atrocity of being raped, and over and over, I’ve counseled them, explaining