Cinderella A Romantic Horror Story

Are you the Murderer?

He nodded and read aloud,

As you may well know, my beautiful daughters are married well. Nonetheless, with the extreme weather, the season has not been the best. What I am trying to say is, I am happy you have a place to work, but you cannot forget who found the job in the first place. It was me, hence; you owe us money. Lady Brunhilda let us know the first bag of coins is due at the month's end, and so, at my request, she will hand it directly to me.

I thought you would want to know before you complained about the fact and got yourself fired.

Much love,

Geneve.

Ella clenched her fists. She turned toward the shelf and, with a hand, slapped the porcelain objects.

"Hey. Those were my mom's."

"That's life. You don't have a mom, I don't have a mom. You don't have love and I don't have love. You have a castle. You have a Laila." She stepped closer to him, the shards of porcelain gritted underneath her feet. "You have everything. Stop acting like you don't."

He stood and met her in the middle of the room. Victor grabbed her arms and pressed into her feeble body. Anger and thoughts faded, leaving only the immensity of his stare. She didn't dare move. Her mouth opened, but it produced no sound. He inclined his head and continued to search her eyes as if asking for permission.

Ella nodded. His lips fell onto hers. They were hot and soft. His tongue surprised her when it caressed her lower lip. She opened her mouth granting him entrance. Her lower belly was burning with desire. This was what she wanted, the thing in life she was certain about.

He broke the kiss, and she missed the heat instantly. She grabbed his hand and guided him so they both landed on the velvet sofa. She kissed him and he let out a moan escape from the back of his throat. He was on top of her and she could feel his hardened length on her stomach.

Her hand traveled down his pants and touched the edges of that place she thought of as secret. Nothing mattered but them and their pleasure. She tightened her grip.

He grunted, "Fuck."

"So improper." She teased him.

He shook his head, and suddenly there was warmth on her bosom. First his hand, then he slowly opened her dress and corset, just as he did the first night she spent in the castle. "You're so gorgeous. The most beautiful woman I've ever set eyes upon," he whimpered.

Ella let out an embarrassing moan that sounded more like the chit of a mouse than a femme fatale. She didn't want to say it, not here, not now. Not when all her dreams were about to become a reality. "What about the others?"

He slid his tongue around her nipple, drawing circles. The heat and wetness caused her to tighten her grip around his scalp.

"I'm serious, Victor."

He sighed and pulled away. His hands were no longer over her. She'd broken the spell and regretted it. "There are no others." He began to button his shirt.

"Monique."

His face was red from their passionate encounter. He frowned. "What? How do you know about her? Am I destined to be haunted by her ghost until the end of time?"

"I don't know, are you? What did you do to that poor girl? What did you do to Olga?" Her feelings toward the prince tainted with the memories of the knowledge she'd acquired in the past few days. "Did you murder Olga?"

The prince sank back on the sofa next to her. "She harassed me."

Ella frowned. "Last time I saw you together, she was the one on her knees." She wasn't used to spelling out such sordid topics, yet again, it seemed like her best bet was to address matters directly, so as not to receive half-truths.

"Two more women have disappeared in the village. Not just Olga."

Her hands trembled, then they extended to her arms. Wetness flowed down her face, and then he caressed her cheek.

"Why are you crying?"

She was sobbing, then wailing even. "I saw her. I found Olga. It was me. I was the one..." She covered her face with her hands. "The one who saw her body burnt down. Half her face, it was as if they sprayed her with acid. She wasn't a friend, but no one deserves to have such a death."

Victor embraced her and pinched her chin, making her look into his deep blue eyes. They were hypnotic. "I'm not the murderer."

For some reason, his words relaxed her shoulders, and the rest of her spine followed. "I knew that."

She closed her eyes and leaned into the sofa. Warm, soft skin touched her lips. She let herself get lost in the kiss. His lips had a different taste this time. The doubt wasn't looming like a ghost over them. She caressed his cheek, which had some stubble.

"I want you." Her words sounded foreign to herself.

His breath ghosted her lips. "I want you," he said. It was electrical. The thought of bedding a man for the first time felt like standing on the top of a tower. Vertigo. The illogical need to jump.

"Yes," she smiled and directed her eyes toward the door.

His hand caressed her navel and then traveled down until he touched her core.

"Oh." She swallowed.

A scream.

Not hers. A foreign scream from outside the room. The prince looked at her and then at the door.