Love Kills

Love Kills - A Short Story

The flutter of her eyelashes. The red of her full lips. The softness of her hand in his. The slit in her gown. Everything is meticulously crafted, She wears the overly feminine demeanor like a mask, and she's careful not to let it slip in front of the king, not for a second. And even though it's him holding her, he's fallen right into her grasp.

The first night, when she kisses him in the garden after the ball, and she knows he thinks this is it. He meets a girl in a wine-colored dress, she kisses him, softly at first, but then passionately and needily. She leaves, and he never sees her again. He'll remember the fire that blazed through him, the feeling of her hands on his chest and his on her hips. Perhaps he'll lie in bed with his queen one day, wondering what might have been, if he'd just asked for her name between all those kisses. 

But that doesn't happen. She's always there. At every one of his parties, she's there, sipping champagne in a tight dress, her nails painted to match. And after every party, she meets him. Her absences only make his infatuation grow - and she knows it.

She's disgusted by it. Every second. The way he pulls her away by the hand after the parties, the way he tugs her body closer to his. He's possessive, he's greedy, and most importantly- he's obsessed. But she knows it will be worth it in the end.

It's well past midnight, and she sits next to him in the very royal garden where everything began. Her thigh presses against his, and he is pulling her towards the palace - to his room, she knows. But she plays the lovesick card. gently closing her eyes, she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. She whispers to him.

"I can't continue to meet you,"

She knows it's his greatest fear, and she plays it further. He wants her, he needs her. She made sure of that.

"Why?" He doesn't understand. The young king, who's been promised everything he could ever dream of since boyhood, denied what he wants? It seems almost outlandish to him.

"People will know, soon. We can't keep doing... what - you know, this. It will ruin your reputation,"

It's coming, she knows it. He rests his hand on her knee. Excitement bubbles inside, but she pushes it back down.

"Then I'll make you my queen."

There it is - 5 words, the 5 words she's been hoping for since day one. The reason she forced herself through a romance with the arrogant king. She wonders how she'll do it - poison in his cup? Stabbed in the back? That seems fitting. When the time comes, she tells herself.

The morning after their wedding, she slits his throat.