captivating she was. Her eyes were the color of green fire, blazing like an emerald prism when she felt passionate, and darkening almost to onyx when she felt angry.
At this moment, as the clock struck one on the silver mantelpiece, her eyes became cold and deep as charcoal. He had been gone for three full hours, she fumed. And she had not had a morsel of nourishment all day. There was no refrigerator in her castle, no freezer, no cabinets. Just a silver wine rack standing up against the wall, holding countless bottles of the finest Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, and Syrah. She licked her lips, yearning for the taste of her herb-tinged wine. Opening the humidor on the counter, she pulled out a cigar and lit it up.
At that moment, the castle’s French doors swung open, revealing her lover, breathless, sweating, and clutching a paper bag to his chest.
“Here!” He roared, lunging forward and shoving the bag into the Goddess’s avid hands. “Do you know how much I have endured to procure this mix for you? I nearly died in the process,” he seethed.
With a nonchalant wave of her elegant hand and a puff of cigar smoke, the Goddess smirked. “Nearly died? Really, my Adonis? You are fond of histrionics, aren’t you?”
He lowered his eyes, his face reddening even more, as he realized for the thousandth time, yet as though for the first, that he would never die. He was destined to spend the rest of his life enslaved to the Silver Goddess. He watched resentfully as she snatched her spoon from the glass table and began to prepare her wine. She poured a luscious Tuscan varietal into the goblet, carefully dipping the spoon into the bag and retrieving a sparing amount of herbs. Her eyes flashed like lightning in a forest as she stirred the herbs lovingly into the wine. Inhaling the hypnotic fragrance, she closed her eyes and opened her lips, pressing them to the rim of the glass.
Reluctantly, her lover stared, as the liquid flowed into her mouth and seeped into her system. There was no denying the woman’s overwhelming sexuality. It had drawn him in once and for all time. Reflexively, the muscles on his powerful body began to tremble, as perspiration continued to drip down his brow, moistening his wavy dark hair. The Silver Goddess peeked at him from the corner of her eye and grinned to herself, knowing he was enraptured and her prisoner once again. Today, before she surrendered to the hazy dreams of an herbal sleep, she would have her lover. She drained the goblet without offering him any, then turned to face him. With admiration she gazed up at his towering height, taking inventory of his large hands and chiseled features.
“My lover, come closer. Won’t you join me?” She purred, as he followed helplessly up the coiling stairs to her cool, spacious lair that bred searing heat.
“My name is Thaddeus,” he said under his breath. “And I do not belong to you.” The Silver Goddess didn’t seem to hear his softly spoken words, as she slinked out of her robe. Naked, she glided into her bedroom, reclining upon the silver quilt. Thaddeus helplessly disrobed as she watched him with greedy satisfaction.
“Closer, lover,” she purred and stretched like a kitten upon the bed.
“ Thaddeus ,” he gritted insistently while obeying her command and slowly approaching the silver bedpost. “And you smell like cigar smoke, damn it. Put on some perfume.”
She pretended not to hear him, but inside she was vibrating with fury. Why did the man keep repeating his name? Didn’t he know after all these years that it pained her to speak any man’s name except that of her beloved Pedro?
Pedro . Momentarily, the Silver Goddess could see him on the edge of her vision. There he stood, magnificent with his flawless bronzed physique, shirtless, barefoot in the scorching sand. They had met in Ushuaia and traveled the continent of South America together, dancing the
Learning to Kill: Stories