A Story To Die For

*Show Me What You Know*

Chapter Thirteen -
Monday, 7th August 1911

"Bastard!" Florence screamed, slamming her fist on the foyer desk as she read the paper, "Fucking bastard!" She let out a tremendous yell of anguish, snatching up the paper before rushing to her library.

Walter stared in confusion and horror at his wife's outburst, slowly walking down the stairs and in the direction of her path of rage. A seemingly odd parallel to the day before.

In the library Florence shuffled aggressively through her papers, noticing one of her most in detailed works was missing, "Shit!"

She threw her papers across the room, "Woah, calm down Florence, whatever has happened?" Walter questioned as he walked into the library.

"That shit Victor!" She spat, leaning against her desk, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm herself. "What about him?"

She didn't respond with any feasible words, instead she grabbed her open inkwell, throwing it towards the lit fire, the black liquid not only dripping down her hands and onto her dress but as the glass well hit the wall it shattered, the ink dripping into the fire causing puffs of fire to roar as it mixed with the flammable liquid.

"Fucking Reed, stole my work!" She seethed, teeth seemingly cracking under the pressure of her gritted jaw.

"What?" Walter said, voice dangerously low.

Florence's chest was heaving as she looked towards the man playing her husband, the anger inside of her completely to its brim.

"I'm going to kill him!" She threatened, storming towards the doorway only to be stopped by Walters tight grip, to him it almost seemed like a repeat of the events that had occurred in this very library days prior.

"As much as I know he deserves it, you can't just beat down his door and murder the man!" Walter silenced, "Why not?"

"I don't know if you remember Florence but the year is 1911, this day in age acts such as murder are punishable by death..." Walter explained, the tension between them reaching a peak, he needed to distract her, and he wasn't sure whether he would live to regret how.

"And I wouldn't want to see anything other than my hand wrapped around that pretty little neck of yours..." He breathed, the pair's eyes locking, Florence almost taken aback by the words, feeling as Walter's hand slowly crept up her chest, his warm skin resting against her exposed flesh where the neck of her gown ended.

Florence didn't know what to say, she was conflicted, her brain saying no but her heart- against all odds- screaming yes.

After a moment Florence allowed her hands to wander, exploring the man's well built physique as if she were wandering the halls of the house. Walter tucked her loose hair behind her shoulder, grabbing the back of her neck gently as he leant down, kissing her skin, his face fitting perfectly into the curvature.

Florence had never felt anything like this before, the tingle which erupted in her skin simply from the man sucking on her flesh made her whine.

Walter pulled back looking at the untouched woman before him, his eyes dark and hungry like a vampire who had just caught the scent of his next victim. "What was that whine for?" He mused, the smirk on his lips growing.

"I don't- I don't kno-" She was cut off by Walter pulling her back to him, his lips capturing hers, his quick movements allowing him to be in control, just how he liked it.

"Stop- wait..." Florence slightly protested, "This is indecent, what would my parents think of me now?" she slightly worried.

"Well, we are married Florence... and they had you, did they not... I hate to break it to you darling but you weren't brought here by a stork..." Walter grinned, stroking his pointer finger across her cheek, realising just how uneducated she was about these things. Like most young women of the era her mother had never sat her down to talk about such matters.