Only moonlight seeped into the room and gave the s.p.a.ce a little light.

Len walked in. Asher closed the door. Both of their images stared back in the mirror across the room. Chains and leather straps dangled from the ceiling above his bead. A table sat on his right, stacked with wooden paddles..

"I think there's a lamp over here." Len got ready to head in that direction.

Asher grabbed his fat arm and stopped him. "No. We don't need light."

"What?" Len chuckled and stared at Asher's hand on his arm. "Hey, buddy. You're acting a bit weird."

"Sorry about that." With his free hand, Asher grabbed the knife and pulled it out of his pocket. "By the way, how many girls have you had up here?"

"What?"

Asher brought the knife to Len's view.

Could the man see it? Probably not.

Asher hoped he could.

Hoped the man was p.i.s.sing in his pants.

"What's that in your hand?" Len asked.

"Your destiny."

"Wha-"

"Destiny." Asher slammed the sharp end of his knife into the bottom of Len's chin. The blade sliced through his flesh. Blood sprayed onto his mask.

"Sorry, buddy." Asher leaned back so it wouldn't get in his eyes. "What a mess."

Len struggled as he died, jerking his arms and lazily fighting to get out of Cupid's arms. It was no use.

"This is why I hate using a knife." Cupid slid the knife out and hammered it into his chest over and over. Each time, the sharp edge met bone, a bang sounded.

"It's so loud too." Cupid let go of Len.

The fat man fell to the ground.

Cupid crouched down. "You were supposed to feel the pain of my arrow, but I had to improvise tonight."

Len's body violently shook.

In the shadows, dark liquid gurgled from all of the holes that Asher had made.

"You see. There's a girl, but isn't that always the case when someone dies." He dropped the knife onto the carpeted floor. "She's more than I thought she would be."

He grabbed the dying man's shirt and s.n.a.t.c.hed it open. b.u.t.tons flew. A few hit Cupid's chest, but he paid them no mind.

"She's beautiful, but that's not why I like her." He ripped through Len's holy and blood-stained undershirt. "She's smart, but seriously, the world is filled with smart and beautiful women. It's why I can't read those G.o.d awful romances."

Len's head bobbed a little, his hands lay limp on his sides, while his legs jiggled every few seconds. The odor of death filled the air and Cupid inhaled it all.

"I mean. Isn't the world filled with beautiful people? And any reasonable man or woman could argue that at least half of these gorgeous individuals are smart." Asher tore away more of Len's shirt and stared at his chest.

The moon bathed the punctured skin in a glow of light.

"Plus, most of those chick flicks are boy meets girl, boy does something stupid, girl finds out and leaves, boy somehow gets her back."Asher picked up his knife and studied Len's chest as it slowly rose up and down.

Somehow the fat man still held on. He had a few breaths in him. His heart continued to beat just a little bit more.

He's still alive, a little. Good. I'm going to enjoy this. Can he hear me? Too bad all of the little girls he stuck his p.r.i.c.k in, couldn't see his death.

"But then I met Diana." Asher found bare and un-punctured skin at the area right above Len's fat pecks. "Our boy meets girl story was very different than the norm. She happened to stumble upon me doing my night time pleasure. The sort of hobby that you sadly happened to stumble upon tonight."

He brought the sharpened edge of the knife to Len's chest and carved out a C. The body shook, but there wasn't much energy or life left in Len to stop Asher.

"So now we have me dropping right into some sort of romance story." He finished the C and went to the U to continue spelling his name in Len's chest. "I'm the boy. Diana is the girl, but what I will not have is that same formula. No. Our story will be something more."

He drew the P, I, and D. "The girl will fall in love with the boy and not get mad. Personally, I doubt the boy will take her being mad at all."

In the moonlight, he gazed at his b.l.o.o.d.y name on Len's chest. "I haven't figured out how I'll keep her, but, tonight, I think I just realized I want the girl around me more."

Maybe, more than a week.

Finally, the body went limp with death.

Asher gathered up some of Len's blood, went to the door, and wrote: To Diana with love. . .

Thinking of her, he dragged Len's heavy body to the door and propped the man against it.

"There we go." He sighed. "That has to give me another week at least."

His phone buzzed. It was probably Diana, wondering where he was. Next time, he'd have to make sure he had a good albi.

He took off the gloves, stuffed them in his pocket, and answered the phone, "h.e.l.lo?"

"Are you standing me up again?" she asked.

"Again?"

"You left after our kiss. I'm counting that as a stand up."

"I don't think that's fair." Smiling, Asher headed over to the window, lifted it up, and climbed out.

How many times had he left this way? For weeks, he'd planned how to take Len's life. Things had gotten in the way. Other men's murders came easier, and then there was his mother.

"Are you coming?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm on my way now."

"Good."

He paused on the window's opening. It would take him time to climb out and then connect to the tree that leaned toward it. The branches were an even harder trick to accomplish, although he'd done it many times, ripping his pants and getting a cut here and there on his leg.

"Diana?"

"Yes."

"Tonight, I'm going to kiss you."

Although he couldn't see her, he knew she was grinning when she said, "And should I attach a rope to you just in case you run away?"

"No, My Love. But we can use the rope for other things." He hung up before she could reply, stuffed the phone back in his pocket, and got ready to climb down.

Wait a minute.

He froze right there in the moonlight.

Did I say. . .my love?

Sixteen.

Diana

Diana wasn't sure what came over her. The minute she stepped foot in the Bishop mansion, every secret desire she'd buried deep in her subconscious burst out of her. She felt as if she'd been living as a subdued, coc.o.o.ned version of herself but then Asher came along and...

What was it about that man that changed her? He was s.e.xy and delicious but it wasn't his looks that did her in. It was more, the way he dripped with intellect and secrets with the curving of his lips.

Perhaps it was the way he demanded control from her in the most pleasurable of ways.

And that kiss, it had broken something inside of her.

She'd tasted his lips, delectable, addictive.

She hadn't wanted him to stop, and when he ran away, rage and shock bit through her.

How could he leave her with only the whispers of his cologne and the heat of his hand on her cheek? He wouldn't get away with it again, she would make sure of it.

Every thought she had about Cupid ceased to exist the moment she decided she would f.u.c.k Asher and get it out of her system.

If she could just satiate the hunger blazing through her, then maybe she could focus on more than the way Asher's voice made her want to explore what was beneath his expensive suits and shiny ties. She wanted to know everything she could about the man sworn to protect her. The man who told her exactly what he was going to do to her and when.

"Tonight, I'm going to kiss you."

She'd bitten her bottom lip and touched herself then, though she worked very hard to keep her voice calm and steady on the phone. She'd made a joke to keep the playfulness going, but then his comment about the rope threw her off and she was thankful he hung up, because she cried out in fervor.

"No, My Love. But we can use the rope for other things."

She sincerely hoped he had a rope on a standby, because suddenly the idea of being tied up while Asher thrust into her over and over again gave her shivers.

Diana slipped out of her clothes, every last st.i.tch of fabric. She picked up the phone extension in her room and pressed 0 for house management, as Asher had instructed her last night.

"Miss Carson, what can I do for you?" a woman asked.

"Um, yes, I need you to bring me one of Asher's most expensive b.u.t.ton downs. White, please."

"Oh. . .his b.u.t.ton downs? Mr. Bishop?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure if we're authorized to do that."

"Trust me, when I tell you this. You'll be making Mr. Bishop a happy man if you do this for me."

Silence hung on the line for a few seconds, and then the woman replied, "Okay, Mrs. Carson. We'll get the shirt for you."

"Please, hurry." She hung up the phone and checked her watch.

Asher would be home any minute and she was going to surprise him.

Maybe, I should've asked house management for a rope.

A few minutes later, a knock came.

Excited, she opened the door a crack to hide her nakedness.

A short red-head woman handed the shirt through the small place. "Here you go, Mrs. Carson."

"Thank you so much." Diana grabbed the shirt, shut the door, brought the b.u.t.ton-down to her nose, and inhaled.

Jesus, the man has refined taste.

His signature cologne teased at her nose. If she had to guess, the fragrance was made from some earthy scents, like teakwood and bergamon oil.

She closed her eyes and let the soft fabric glaze over the flesh of one arm. Then the other.