the serial killers housekeeper

Part 8

Hangovers had nothing on what he was currently experiencing.

I'm going to kill him.

Blurry memories from the previous night blended together with pure undiluted fury and created a sort of malice that Cale Barrow had never experienced before in his life. The sort of rage that broiled the soul and clouded the mind.

Despite the manifold murders he had committed, Cale had never actually felt bloodlust like this before.

It was exhilarating and infuriating all in one. Something about it coiled around him and filled him with a raw desire that only blood could fill.

He wanted to kill Kim Roksu before but now? Now it was a matter of need. Desire. Craving.

Just as he thought how the taste of Roksu's flesh on his tongue would make everything better, the smell of breakfast caressed his nose and made him flinch away from the light.

He was still in so much pain.

The smell was good though. Bacon, sausages, eggs, and pancakes. Swirling around deliciously to tempt him to open his eyes and face the world again. He wanted to get up but the pain was just so intense...

Cale's stomach grumbled and he thought of all the incredibly cooked meals that Roksu had prepared for him prior to the fish incident. Truthfully, Cale didn't normally would have eaten so much of his victims' food. It was just that Roksu's cooking was so mouthwateringly good that he couldn't help but keep coming back to it.

He wanted to experience that taste again.

Especially now when he felt weak and sore and miserable. For every bit that his murderous rage was strong, so was the throbbing pain in his head and the rest of his body. Not to mention the after-effects of the drugs left him groggy and nauseous. The idea of a warm breakfast cooked by Roksu's capable hands...

Roksu's hands were calloused and surprisingly strong, lifting him up from the ground with ease and hugging him against Roksu's chest. He could feel Roksu's strong heartbeat beneath the fabric and the way that Roksu's breath tickled against the crown of his head, grumbling under his breath about "shitty bosses" before gently depositing Cale down on the couch.

"Pain in the ass..." Roksu grumbled and a thrill ran up Cale's spine. In his delirious sobbing state, he almost asked Roksu to say more. The husky and annoyed voice, full of exasperation and disdain for everything about Cale, made his skin tingle and he reached out helplessly to hold onto Roksu.

Of course, his sluggish movements were too slow and Roksu left without ever even noticing his attempt.

Whatever merciless god fed Cale that miserable memory could die in a ditch. Cale scowled and forced his eyes open. He winced again at the light of the living room and took note that there was a cup of warm coffee waiting for him on the coffee table. He glared at it suspiciously but he couldn't quite remember why coffee was so nauseatingly suspicious to him at the moment.

Wretchedly, Cale pulled himself upright and nearly curled in on himself at the echoes of pain that pulled a whimper from the back of his throat. Fearfully, he looked about in case there was anyone close enough to hear him whimper.

The only sound nearby was from the kitchen and the music that wafted alongside the delicious scents was enough to disguise Cale's shame.

...he heard me cry last night...

Cale clenched his fist.

Kim Roksu had to die.

And whatever strange feeling was traveling up his spine whenever he remembered Roksu's cold expression and his own pathetic sobs was going to be thoroughly ignored and locked away forever. He didn't like it. He didn't have a name for it yet but every part of him filled him with revolted disgust.

That wasn't entirely accurate.

It filled him with a strange tingly feeling that was similar to the irresistible pleasure of blood lust. But the pleasantness of the feeling filled him with disgust.

It was complicated.

Cale forced himself to his feet and dragged himself toward the kitchen. Intent on slitting Roksu's throat and feasting on his innards or just anything to avenge his crippled pride.

Roksu looked up from where he'd just flipped a pancake and nodded at Cale as though he expected him. "Morning." He greeted nonchalantly.

Cale froze in place.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He could remember vague aspirations for murder but suddenly his earlier symptoms were so much work. On top of the body aches, general pain, throbbing headache, and shameful desires there was just... something else.

Something strange.

Something about the way that Roksu was able to look at him so coolly after the night they had and cooked breakfast as though nothing happened.

Something about those reddish brown eyes that flickered back to his cooking after his greeting was completed.

Something about everything that was Kim Roksu.

Cale forgot how to breathe.

"Breakfast will be ready soon." Roksu informed Cale breezily, still looking for all the world like there was nothing wrong about this situation. "Would you like to wait in the dining room?"

Cale felt out of place.

He felt a choking nostalgia from long ago, from before he'd broken the chains of those who held him down, held him back, before he bathed in their blood without a single regret.

Why did it feel so regretful now?

Cale suppressed the feeling but found himself nodding obediently. One stuttered foot in front of the other to move to the dining room and–he was falling.

Cale's eyes squeezed shut, the pain already resounding through his body would be so much worse when he hit the ground.

He needed to kill Roksu.

It was about the only thing that gave him any strength.

Kill him.

Get rid of him–

Roksu's smell filled his senses as he felt now familiar arms catch him.

...how the hell was he supposed to breathe like this...?

With Roksu this close, it would be easy to murder him. If only Cale had a weapon.

Blearily, he allowed himself to be guided to the dining room table and accepted the plate of delicious smelling food that Roksu prepared especially for him.

It was a shame that he was so out of it. He would have remembered exactly why he shouldn't accept anything that Roksu cooked. Especially if that cooking involved sugar.

In his defense, the pancakes tasted divine.