Love Hurts: The Killing of Rose

by Holly Hood

  “Yeah, just about to get in line, I was having a hard time finding those peppers.” He promised her. “But now I got everything. So I will see you in a few.” He pocketed his phone, stepping quickly back inside the grocery store, playing it off as nothing more than a bathroom break.

  His two cents

  Frankie pulled at the collar of his dress shirt. He was more the laidback jeans and a t-shirt type most days. He eyed his date. Blanca, the customary tag along he brought to every important event. Blanca was a Russian swim suit model. Frankie and Blanca’s relationship went way back. Blanca was the only girl Frankie could have sex with and not succumb to the usual ending. Instead of death, Blanca was gifted orgasms and invites back.

  Frankie gave Blanca a wink. “Did I tell you how tasty you look tonight?” He moved in closer, breathing in her rich scent of mysterious floral and rainwater. Something none of the pathetic human kind ever wore. Something he was used to whenever he came in contact with someone Blanca’s style. Blanca was a Succubus, as lethal as a praying mantis to the male species, with the allure of an angel, in the body of a devil.

  “You look pretty yummy yourself.” She tossed her brown hair over her bare shoulder. “What exactly are we here for?” She studied the grounds of Sam’s most recent residence, totally out of the loop on Frankie’s objective for the night. Frankie only summoned her when he was up to something.

  “For dinner, this is purely a dinner with family.”

  Blanca’s eyebrow raised, she titled her head, really studying Frankie’s expression now. The last time she heard Frankie talk of family was back when he was trying to kill his own mother. Frankie was the lone wolf type. The bulk of his family despised him or was already long gone. A small smile graced her lips as she watched Frankie wrapped his fist against the well-built wooden door.

  They both excitedly waited for what was to come. Frankie slung an arm around Blanca’s shoulder plastering the most ingenuous smile he could pull from his core. His eyes flashed with excitement at what was about to unfold the rest of the evening.

  ***

  On the other side of the door Delaney hurriedly set places at the table while Vance headed off to get the door. He was totally oblivious on who was standing on the other side. Delaney had made it a point to hide this surprise she had up her sleeve. And he knew it just had bad written all over it. The only thing that gave him hope he was going to pull through the night was the woman back at the grocery store that he had destroyed before he got home. But he could feel the high gradually drifting away at every adrenaline filled beat of his heart.

  “Frankie. Blanca,” he said loudly, gripping the door in absolute agitation, with enough strength to splinter the woodwork. He quickly looked behind him before stepping into the hallway and shutting the door. “What the hell are the two of you doing here?”

  Blanca crossed her arms in annoyance. “Good to see you too, Sam.”

  “We came for dinner. Your fiancé invited us.” He thrust the bottle of fine wine into his brother stiff chest. “Don’t be a poor sport. Invite us in.”

  Sam swallowed down the boiling rage rocketing his conscience. He was ready to throttle his brother right on his doorstep. He took a deep breath to gain some composure. “You better stay on your best behavior or this dinner will be the last thing you ever do in your wretched existence.” He stabbed his pointer finger into his chest for extra warning.

  Blanca scanned the entire length of Vance, or Sam. He seemed to be calling himself all sorts of things these days. Gorgeous was one she was prepared to settle on. “Nice house. So you have a fiancé? That’s quite interesting.” She studied her polished nails trying to conceal the laughter trying to escape.

  “Yeah, he hasn’t quite figured it out. But I must say she’s a beauty,” Frankie said, slapping his brother on the arm. Blanca teasingly poked out her lip in the form of a pout.

  “You’ll always be the most beautiful. Don’t worry babe.” He slapped her rear, moving in for a very intimate lip lock, Blanca’s tongue teasing his bottom lip, like a graceful serpent starving for the venom of Frankie’s oral cavity.

  Sam rolled his eyes, heading back inside, hoping the two love birds killed each other before stepping foot into his house. He was livid.

  Delaney sanded her hands together looking completely pleased with her table setting. Sam hated that she went to such great length for a bunch of hopped up sex freaks looking for a good laugh at their expense. He sat the bottle of Petrus on the table.

  Their visitors sauntering in his home, Blanca, a satisfied smirk on her face, Frankie busily wiped the lip gloss from his mouth. He looked around at all his brother’s high dollar retro paintings. It was precisely how he imagined his home would be.

  “Wow, you really outdid yourself this time, Vance.” He clapped his hands, turning circles. Acting so astounded with his surroundings.

  Delaney wiped her hands on her apron, coming to join Vance. She squeezed his arm, pleased they had guest. “I tell him that all the time. He has a good eye.” She smiled big, stepping forward and extending her hand to Blanca. Frankie cut the shenanigans placing a hand on Blanca’s back.

  “This is Blanca. Blanca this is Delaney. The girl I have been telling you all about.” He shot his brother a look out of the corner of his eye. Watching the girls get to know each other better.

  Sam scratched the back of his neck. “My brother and I are going to pour the wine, while the two of you get to know each other.”

  Frankie followed, to amused to remove the smile from his face. He leaned against the counter as Sam located wine glasses. “How long has it been since you and Blanca had a run in with each other?”

  Sam shot him a look that could kill.

  “Don’t you miss the sweet seduction of the succubus?” He accepted the glass being shoved in his direction by Sam. “I mean at least in the end—”

  Sam viciously shoved his elbow into Frankie’s side, knocking the air from his lungs. He turned away from the girls as they chatted it up about clothes and makeup and all that stuff he found uninteresting. “Just spit it out already. Because the sight of you I find a little nauseating. What are you doing here?”

  “Come on, Vance. Have a heart. Oh wait that’s right.” He chuckled at his sick joke. “I came by to offer my brother some help with his crisis.”

  Sam stared at Frankie over his glass of wine, which he was chocking down at a shocking rate of speed. He watched his brother poke and prowl around his kitchen, lifting the lids to the pots on the stove. Doing his usual—putting his nose where it didn’t belong.

  “Are you planning on further elaborating what that even means?” Sam asked short.

  Frankie stopped stirring the bubbling tomato sauce. He took a few steps, putting himself in front of Sam. “Have you been off getting a quick fix?” His eyes flicked back and forth, a big grin breaking out on his face like a rash. His brother was just as weak as the rest of them. He couldn’t fight the carnal urge any better than the next incubus.

  “Would it make you sleep better at night if I said yes?” Sam asked, swatting Frankie’s annoying fingers away from his face. “Just tell me why you dusted Blanca off and had her put on her best dress. Because I know you only bring that bitch out when you got something up your sleeve.”

  Frankie shook his head in concurrence. “Your right. And that is why I am here. I figured we do a proper introduction before I come up with a simple plan for you to get what you want.”

  “What I want?” Sam inquired.

  “Yeah. Don’t play coy with me. You want to ride that hot little number like a show pony. But you’re afraid you will lose all control and—”Frankie evilly seared a finger across his throat, poking his tongue from his mouth and dropping his head to the side for more theatrical effect.

  Sam flexed his jaw. Not disagreeing with his brother. He watched Delaney as she laughed and carried on with Blanca, none the wiser that she was nothing more than an object of obsession for him. Even if it wasn’t the way he w
anted things to be, that was just the way it was.

  “This is my theory. I say you kill two birds with one stone. Take her for a spin and when all is said and done you always have the memories.” Frankie chuckled, taking a swig of his wine.

  “You’re nothing but a cold-blooded prick.”

  “I’m sorry I have accepted that I’m not made to love anyone. And that I understand and enjoy plowing through woman like tissues. What man wouldn’t love what we do?” Frankie watched with an evil grin on his heavenly face as the girls approached eager to get in on the drinking. He handed over two glasses toasting with them as Sam stood in the background. The same troubled expression on his face like always. He wondered when his brother would come to realize it was a lot easier to be exactly what he was—evil. And not try to toy with his genetic structure. He wasn’t going to find a human that could withstand all that he was. He would destroy them time and time again. Things would never change.

  ***

  The four of them sat around the table eating Delaney’s chicken parmesan and sipping wine like it was going out of style.

  “Such a great cook,” Frankie insisted around a mouthful of what to him was a slightly feeble attempt at cooking. He accepted Delaney’s courteous smile looking at his brother. “You really bagged a keeper.”

  Blanca giggled, trailing her fingernails up and down Frankie’s thigh. She had grown bored with this human activity of trying to play kind and act as if she liked doing mundane things. She preferred to be in a bar someplace rounding up the next victims to fill her appetite.

  “Delaney is going to school to become a chef. She wants to open her own restaurant,” Sam informed them. He stuffed the last of his French bread in his mouth and wiped his hands with the fancy cloth napkins Delaney brought from her own apartment.

  “How quaint,” Frankie said mockingly, not caring anymore if Delaney realized he was starting to come off as a pompous prick. “Such high hopes for a girl looking to marry Sam.”

  Sam’s expression dropped to a supernatural glower. Delaney’s eyes bounced from his cold glare to Frankie’s smirk. She chewed her food trying to figure it all out. A sweet smile still pinned to her lips.

  “Sam?” she asked, confused.

  Blanca stopped her teasing of Frankie’s leg, backing away. She had seen the two scuffle for years. Frankie was towing the line all evening. Now he had crossed it. Sam balled his napkin tossing it down on his plate.

  “Sam is my uh…nickname.” He nodded his head, “Just a silly nickname.” He stood, gathering everyone’s dishes whether they were finished or not. He was finished for the night.

  “Well, I understand. It’s not a big deal, love. Come sit down. I made dessert,” she said, trying her best to coax him back to the table. Things weren’t turning out the way she anticipated. It seemed from the minute Frankie entered his home he wanted to explode.

  “Awe. What a cute nickname,” Frankie said, staying where he was. “I think I have room for dessert. What’s on the menu?”

  Delaney hurried to the kitchen. “Tiramisu.”

  Frankie yawned, rolling his eyes, bored at the thought of it. How could his brother put up with such a run of the mill girl? Sure she was amazing to look at. And under that frilly little dress he was sure was a whole lot of hotness. But girls were a dime a dozen. There were probably four others in the area that were just as similar.

  Sam arched his eyebrow, giving the famous get- the- hell- out- of- here expression. He stood, stoic and fuming. Frankie sighed, taking one last swig of his wine and stood up. “I hate to cut this short. But it looks like Blanca isn’t feeling well. I need to get her home.”

  Sam followed them to the door.

  Delaney set the plates on the counter, disappointed. “Awe. I’m so sorry. I hope it wasn’t my cooking.”

  Frankie turned. “I bet it wasn’t. She barely touched any of it.”

  Sam clenched his teeth slamming the door shut, enraged.

  Her heart

  Sam watched from the kitchen doorway as Delaney cleaned up the dishes. She was silent, probably displeased by his actions. He was sure of it. He watched her carefully collect all the silverware and put them away, each movement intended and careful as if there was something missing. His heart ached.

  “Why don’t you let me clean this up and you go sit down?” He suggested, moving from the doorway.

  Delaney sighed. Her eyes not meeting up with his like normal. She pushed her hair behind her ear before she said anything. Sam was beginning to worry. He had never seen her so quiet and down.

  “I just don’t understand, Vance.” She started, tossing the last of the silverware in the drawer. “I want to make you happy. But everything I seem to do ends up feeling wrong.”

  Sam sighed. If not for Frankie and his stupid idea of coming around, he wouldn’t be sitting in his house discussing feelings and relations with his fiancé. He stayed where he was, watching her. She finally met up with his eyes. But he barely could look into hers while they were brimming with tears.

  “You’re doing everything fine, Delaney. What makes you think you’re doing something wrong?” He resisted the urge to hold her and stayed put.

  “Something doesn’t feel right. I love you. I really do, but I feel like I have half of you all the time.” She sighed, staring up at the ceiling in misery, tears spilling from her eyes, making them an even brighter shade of green.

  Seconds later Sam was pulling her into his arms, kissing the top of her head, trying to take all the sadness away from her. “I don’t like to see you cry. Stop crying. Don’t cry over me.”

  Delaney stroked Sam’s arm, staring off in a daze. She was confused. For once in her life she didn’t know what to do. She was afraid to be completely honest with Vance. She loved him too much to hurt his feelings. But she wondered how long she could live the way they were living without saying something. She lifted her head, courage coming from somewhere deep inside.

  “You hardly kiss me. We have been together for one year and we have never made love.” She pressed her forehead into his muscular frame, embarrassed and at the same time relieved that the words were said. She noticed his heart was beating at a high rate of speed. His body went stiff. And all of a sudden she found a space in between them that seemed to appear out of thin air. He dropped down on his love seat, dropping his head in his hands.

  Delaney stood still, uncertain of what to do or say, her hands moving and trembling trying to keep busy. She finally settled on crossing her arms. “Vance.”

  He lifted his head finally. His expression troubled. It was written all over his face. His once blue eyes were still blue, but now were dark and just about vacant as he looked at her. “I don’t think I can give you what you want.”

  His words hung in the room, beating at her senses. She dropped her arms, weak. Like someone had sucked the life right out of her. Maybe this was what a broken heart felt like. She knew it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. And now she was angry with Vance. Something she never thought would happen.

  “What do I want!” Delaney screamed.

  This took Sam by surprise. He had never seen a single fiber of Delaney ever upset with him. And this made him angry because he was the cause of it. He didn’t like anyone hurting her—even himself.

  “You want to be loved. You want parts of me I just can’t give you.” His eyes widened at the harsh truth. “Parts of me I want to give you if I could.”

  Delaney turned away. He knew she was crying again.

  “Don’t you think I would give you these things if I could, baby?” he said, his voice going back to composed. He just wanted to make everything okay again. “It’s complicated.”

  “I want you, Vance. I just want you to kiss me and make love to me. I want to feel connected with you totally. Tell me what’s the matter,” she said, coming across the room. He knew the drill. She was going to try and figure it out. She most likely suspected like every other girl in his life that he was damaged. Maybe a screwed up childhood
was to blame—if only it were that easy.

  “You don’t want to hear what the matter with me is.” He stroked her hair, giving a pathetic smile. His insides ready to implode. Telling Delaney the truth wouldn’t end well at all for him, or her. He didn’t know what to do.

  “I want to know everything about you. I love you,” she said, smiling through tears as she ran her fingertips against his face. Touching him was soothing her, but seemed to be hurting him. Sam took her hand in his, stopping her fingers from stroking his face.

  “I love you, too, too much maybe.”

  “There is no such thing as loving someone to much,” she argued.

  Sam shook his head in disagreement. “But that’s where you’re wrong.”