the sweetly scented killer

royce

"Can we leave now?" A small frown pulls my eyebrows together.

"When we leave, you have to--"

"I know."

Silence.

"Yeah, we can leave now."

"Okay."

He hesitates for a moment, then joins me as I pass the panting on the other side of the dresser. The one of two angels lifting a man into the clouds.

***

"Are you even listening to me?" I fade back into my surroundings.

I sit up and focus on her face. "No, sorry."

Flora sighs. "I said that the decapitation of that poor man is tomorrow and that I'm not going."

"You're not going?" I frown.

"No," she shakes her head.

I sigh and drag a hand over my face. "Okay. Guess I'll sit in the balcony alone. Without you. All by my--"

"You're so dramatic," she rolls her eyes. A smile pulls my lips down. I lean back on the bed while watching her sit on the floor and braid her hair in the mirror. "It was enough donating my 'support' as charity at the gala. I am not watching someone lose their head as entertainment."

"Okay," I say gently. I walk over there and sit behind her with my legs on either side. I rest my chin on her shoulder and watch her focused expression in the mirror. Her brown eyes bring me back to Royce. The way he looked at me when I promised not to hurt him. I wrap my arms around Flora's waist and try to let my sigh out inaudibly.

I take in the natural flowery scent of her hair and try to be present with her in this moment.

And then my mind wanders to the way Royce reached for my hand when we were walking to his first round of torture.

His little hands, bound by chains heavier than him, were clinging to me with every fear imaginable.

"Flora," I whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want children?"

"We're supposed to have children."

"I know, but...do you want children?"

She's quiet for a moment. "I don't know." Her eyes find mine in the mirror. "Do you?"

I always thought I did. In the back of my mind, I always hoped that there would be a time I would hold a child of my own that fits in the palm of my hand.

But now... "I don't know."

"Why do you ask, Seth?" she says softly.

I sigh. "No reason." I hand her a hair tie from next to me when she gestures to it.

"There has to be a reason," Flora looks at me while tilting her head to wrap the band around the end of the braid.

I shake my head. "There's no reason."

My mate smiles at me in the mirror, not believing my claim a single bit. I look away before she sees me smiling back.

"You are lying like a rug, love," Flora turns to me.

"A very high quality rug," I raise my eyebrows.

"Mm," she tilts her head back and forth in disagreement.

***

I end up bringing Royce to the beheading. He's already in hell, it's not like he'll see much worse.

Maybe that's a bit of a lie. But it won't hurt to show him what's out there.

There's nowhere he absolutely needs to be right now, and there's nothing saying I can't take him, so what the hell. Something tells me he'll be able to handle it.

He's been quiet for the five minutes I've been with him. Royce isn't one to talk my ear off, but he never lets silence get the best of him like he is now.

I glance down at him, and find him looking around. "You okay, man?" I ask. He looks up at me, his dark eyes looking only slightly terrified and scared for his life. Royce nods.

I have him put into a little suit. He just watches the hairdresser as she puts gel in his hair and combs it back.

And those eyes stay peeled as we walk through the theatre. He watches the people who watch him. He watches the people who don't watch him.

And when the person's head is closed into the guillotine, Royce is on the edge of his seat. Gripping the arms of the chair with his hands in the shape of claws. He doesn't move, or blink, or even breathe, contradicting the loud cheering and howling of the rest of the onlookers. The blade comes down with a hiss.

Royce's brow furrows for only a moment, then goes back to normal. He hops down and goes to the edge.

I watch the back of him as he seems so intently fixated on the sight in front of him.

My thirst for his current thoughts could easily be quenched by listening to them, but I decide not to. I don't want to be inside his head, and the grin that spreads across his face only solidifies my choice.