“This one causes paralysis.” She went down the line, her words falling out in a rush. She extolled the uses of each one with a shade of tenderness. These were her babies.
“Seizures, vomiting, organ failure.” She waved at the plants, thick with waxy foliage, each one as deadly as the last.
“The pollen on this one can induce unconsciousness.” She brushed her fingers over a pink petal before shooting me a scathing glare.
“Everything in this room could kill you ten times over and you wouldn’t have a clue. Because I am the one who wields the knowledge. I am The Gardener. We are not the same. You couldn’t fathom what I do,” she spat.
My wife knew how to kill. But so did I.
My patience frayed, snapping under her sharp dismissal. I had held my temper in check, letting curiosity dampen it, but no more.
She thought we weren’t the same?
Two strides and I had her pinned to the workbench again. My arms bracketed her on either side.
“Didn’t you hear anything I said?” she laughed—laughedat me. Her smile was thick with gloating. She reached into her pocket for a hair band, tying up her hair. “Your muscles are useless against me. Or do I have to prove it again?”
I pulled my gun from my waistband and slammed it on the table beside her. I was so close I could feel the frantic puff of her breath, see the whites of her eyes as she shifted to look at the weapon.
“Pick it up, Anita. Show me the killer you are.” I taunted her, saliva pooling in my mouth. My stomach howled for vindication. Underneath that, it was ravenous for her respect. She’d toyed with me this whole time and I wanted something more from her than this cold dismissal and judgment. I knew I didn’t deserve it and the realization scored me with deep gouges.
Her eyes blazed, but she made no move to pick it up.
“You have your plants. I have my weapons, even my bare hands. You’re right, Anita, I don’t know anything about this.” I waved my hands. “But you don’t know how to use my gun or how long it takes to strangle a man until the light goes out in their eyes.”
Frustration had my voice shaking, my head bent close to hers. Her chest rose and fell in great shudders, but there was no trace of disgust from my confession. Why would there be? We were the same. I needed her to see it, to understand how it was going to be from now on.
She was my wife, and she would be by my side, in my bed, giving me everything.
I would hoard every poisoned piece of her. But I couldn’t steal it, nor coax it from her. I knew from the rage that contorted her features. How had she hidden it so well? All the roiling emotions inside of me were my fault. I’d refused to see what was right in front of me and now I was paying the price. My chest plastered to hers, taunting her into exploding on me. I wanted us to burn together.
A wildfire I knew would scorch me until I was ash.
Her pupils dilated.
“I hate you,” she spat, her fists thumping against my chest. “I despise you.”
She insulted me, but all I could see was her, the Anita she’d been hiding. Had I thought I loved her before? In the darkness, her eyes were wild, her teeth flashed as she glared at me. Her hair escaped her hasty tie and tumbled around her shoulders. Her breath burned, angry against my skin. She would kill me in a second. If I gave her the chance.
“I couldn’t love you more.” I admitted, voice hoarse.
Denying the need, I had to dig my fingers through her hair and bend her to my will. She’d fight me every step of the way, and it might be a battle I win, but I would lose the war.
Taking her the way I wanted would require more patience and games. But I couldn’t pull back. The rage she exuded was addictive, and I needed a taste. I was wild for it.
She must have seen the glint of lust in my eyes as I dropped my head. Intent on a taste. But the second my lips touched hers, she clamped her teeth on my bottom lip. It reminded me of the glorious night after our dinner party. I’d been twisted with guilt about Merissa and attributed her rage to the appearance of what she thought was my mistress. Iron flooded my tongue, and I grunted, trying to pull away. But she didn’t let go. She bit down harder.
Sharp, euphoric pain coursed through my body. I grabbed her waist, and the touch jolted her enough to release her rabid grip.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.” She panted, her fists thumping on my chest. I was dizzy as blood dripped down my chin. My lip stung as I stretched it into a reddened grin. This is how it would be between us. The thought of coaxing her into passion made me giddy.
“One day, you’ll beg for my touch,” I promised. The game was on, and there would be one winner.
I intended it to be me.
“You’re delusional,” she spluttered, but her fingers tightened around my shirt as I tried to give her space.
A glint of white distracted me. I looked to the side to see the Lady of Death, small green nubs on its side unfurling slowly.
