Torment Me (The Ashes Boys) by K. L. Taylor-Lane

Author:K. L. Taylor-Lane [Taylor-Lane, K. L.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781739208905
Publisher: K. L. TAYLOR-LANE
Published: 2022-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Flint

The darkness feels like home, wrapping me up in its shadows. My blood boils beneath skin that smells like fire. Hot, charring, familiar. I stalk through the tall crops, swaying and swishing roughly in the harsh November wind. I know where I’ll find my Phoenix, playing away with his dolls in the darkness. I walk through the field blind. Nothing but the occasional burst of moonlight lighting my path, there’s a buzzing in my ears, adrenaline, a fight broiling in the centre of my chest.

A need to take that woman away from my older brother. A need to make her know she was never safe, no matter how he pretends to charm her, lure her, break her. We were built for ruin, not fairytales. I have an itch, a need to show Phoenix that I own him tonight, and no matter how many people he makes smile, hers will be the only one I’ll count.

I wonder how long it will take for Blaze to let us have her.

I’ll make her cry, Nix will make her smile.

It’ll all be over too soon.

I still my bootsteps, head tilting to one side, a quiet cry carrying on the breeze. I switch direction. Carving a quick right, back towards the abandoned Halloween maze, I feel my pace pick up, the swishing and swooshing of the tall crops and their leaves rushes around me like a breaking wave.

Approaching the edge at the back of the carved out maze, I hear a whimper, a huff, a small grunt, a thump. A smile flashes over my lips, mouth pulling up at the corners, knowing exactly what I’ll find. Watching between the thick plants, Phoenix dips low, grabbing an ankle and arranging the body upon a pyre, darkness is already covering their front, even in the little light from the moon I can see he’s almost done.

Enthralled, I watch him work, I don’t doubt he can sense me nearby, but I don’t disturb him. Watching his shirtless torso bend and flex, muscles tight and drawn beneath his golden, suntanned skin. His blonde hair like a halo atop his head, the cold wind tousling its length across his face, he pushes it back, wiping a forearm over his forehead, back of his hand over his chin. Dark eyes glance up, to the dark night’s sky above, his chest heaving but his breaths deep and even, he cracks his neck, left to right. Resuming shifting the other bodies at his feet.

He places them one by one, upon the wood stacks, a dug out trench around its base, a true professional when it comes to controlling fire. I would not have been so careful, it’s why I’m not allowed to play with flames unattended anymore. Pyromania is a mental illness, dangerous in its entirety, but one I never want cured.

Phoenix scuffs his boot across the dewy ground, the crops cleared for the maze. A slow fog drifts around his ankles, his hot breath fogging before his face. Nix continues arranging his dolls, settling each one of them perfectly, in the exact position he likes, arranging.

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