~The scene was set in Paris, France. The date was 1826. A killer, a master mind of all sorts. A man with a past darker then that of the Royal Court of England.~
Balthazar took a glance at the pale face beneath his frame, his movements slowly stalling as he tilted his head to the side, a frown marring his dark features. As he lifted his skinny hand, to which it was attached to a an arm that had some weight, some strength laced through the dark skin. He placed it on the cheek of Marian, a woman he had been following for a while now.
A woman he wanted. He needed to possess her. Her entire being called to his darker side. "Oh Mari, why... Why did I have to disfigure such a beauty as you. But oh, you're body still so warm. You're blood still warm even if you're breathing ceased so long ago." The male's words penetrated the walls that was enclosed around them. The other women whimpered, pleading behind their gags to be released.
A moment more, oh the thrill of fucking a dead body, the electricity that surged through him pushed him over. That sweet, sweet release ravaged through his frame, his hot liquids spilled from his shaft within the body. "Ah, mon amour you would of been perfect if you had not put up such a fight with me." The words slipped from dry cracked lips as he gave a shake of his head. As he clambered off the table, he pulled his pants back on and reached over for his carving knife. "You will be delectable though." His words drawled as he pierced the once flawless skin and began to carve out pieces of her body, tossing it into a frying pan.
Zar glanced up at the woman tied to his wall, a devil's smirk plastered on his lips. "Want a taste ladies? I think you'd like it." He laughed as they whimpered and scream. He clucked and tsked under his breath as his icy blue gaze pierced them, "Oh don't worry darlings. You're both next. In due time." He finished his task at hand and took hold of the frying pan and brought it to the stove. Within the pot was flesh and the woman's heart. Still warm from giving that last pump it would ever receive, at his hands.
Turning the burner on, he placed the pan on the coils and watched, listened, to the wet mess sizzle and cook down to be eaten. Oh how he enjoyed the eating of the flesh and heart. Such good tastes. He laughed to himself. This was twelfth victim within a months time. And he had a few more to add to his collection. Soon, he told himself. So very soon. At that last pop, he took the pan off the coils and turned the burner off. A twist of his hips, he grabbed a plate to put the human flesh and heart on it, then tossed the pan into the sink. He grabbed a fork and a knife then sat at the table. When he began his feast. A glass of blood laced wine sat beside the plate as well. Mmmm. His favorite meal...