"You understand, don't you?" He chuckled dryly, the sound devoid of humor, as he pressed the silver blade against the ivory taboo of her neck.

Her pulse trembled waveringly beneath it, and, breathing shallower solely because of his presence, answered.

"Yes."

"Excellent. I'd hate you, not knowing," his lips smiled, his gaze bearing pure hatred, and, a touch of lust-worn deceit.

His tongue flicked, sickeningly sweet, towards her ear, crescendo shattered to flammable whispers, "Goodbye, my love."

The irony didn't escape her as the blood rivulets descended her throat; only her eyes screamed treachery when her spirit begged for release.

-

Another dark one. Contemplate on your own.

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