Envy (Dark Waters Book 1)

Chapter Fifteen:

1873

The thieves lay in pieces in front of Priscilla's small house. I kicked at a loose limb, watching the leg roll away, detached from the body. I smirked because I thought it was funny; the shoe had begun to slip off, revealing a heel with a tattered sock. The thief needed to steal socks, not target young women at night.

"You killed them."

I snapped around at the sound of Priscilla's voice. She didn't look afraid, though I thought she should've been. There were three dead men in front of her door. Two of them were scattered around the third. As I looked at her, at her light, I stepped back, glancing at my hands. It was the first time I thought of my actions—had I gone too far? Should I have killed them? Was tearing them limb from limb necessary?

Was her presence making me question myself?

"You killed them to protect me." Priscilla touched her lips before looking at my face with her bright eyes. "I never thought that would be an option for anyone."

It wasn't an option. At least, not for most mortals. Most would plead with God when horrible thoughts filled their heads. The few who killed did it with pleasure or rage, and few of those repented. I wasn't the Sin to bring about death, but I inflicted it out of necessity. And at times, out of joy,

Should I repent? No, I was a sin. I should relish this moment,

"What will we do when my father returns?" Priscilla extended her hand for me to follow her back inside the house. "How can we clean up such a mess?"

A gentle energy pulsated from her fingertips. I looked down at her nails and delicate wrist, before reaching for her hand. The moment we touched, she pressed her fingers between mine.

"I just killed three men," I whispered as I stepped inside her home and watched as she latched the door behind me, "and you aren't frightened."

"No." Priscilla licked her lips. "I have seen men do worse with no reason behind the action. You, Octavio, are a man with morals, even if they are unconventional. You did what you could to save me, protect me, and I find that honorable."

Again with her purity, her innocence. I felt it in rays, pushing off her like the waves on the ocean.

"I'm just unsure of what to do..." Taking a deep breath, Priscilla placed both hands on her lips. Her brows knitted together with worry. The same urge to protect her came over me. I didn't want her to be upset and riddled with fear. A beautiful soul like hers was born to be happy. Alive.

And yet... I still had to kill her.

Would there be a way I could skip my assignment and let her live?

"What if we run?" Her eyes snapped up to meet my gaze. "We can't stay here with the bodies; there is too much blood to clean. The animals would have smelled it by now. There are wolves out there." She bit her lip. "We can run to protect ourselves and find a way from this crime."

Before I could say a word, even agree or decline, Priscilla grabbed my hand again. She hurried over to her shoes and slipped on both feet without letting me go. Then she glanced out the front window as if looking for someone. All the rapid movement caused her curls to fall in front of her face. With her mouth opened with excitement, nervousness, fear, or a combination of the three, she pulled strands of hair from her mouth.

"Let us run so I can protect you, too, Octavio," her quick footsteps put her against my chest, "and we can keep each other's secrets."

Each other's secrets? Mine ran deeper than the murder of three dishonorable men. And they were words I vowed to never utter in front of a mortal unless I planned to kill them. But as Priscilla's breasts pressed up against my chest, and her bright eyes held my gaze, I didn't want to kill her. I wanted to run with her, hide with her, and have her, love her, keep her... if she let me.