To Love and Kill

Untitled Part 1

She smiled greedily, her teeth glistening in the low light. Her chin was on her hands, which were on his chest. He smiled down at her, love showing in the deepest crevices of his eyes. In his very soul. She kissed the hollow of his throat, smiling against his skin. Her plans were flooding her mind, her plans to kill, and it warred with the love she suddenly found herself in, "What will you do?" she asked, her mouth still pressed to his skin, "When I leave?"

She looked up at him, his smile dissipating, "I will follow you. As far as you go, I will follow you. I don't care about ruling this land anymore. I care about you," She shook her head, her own smile fading, her sharpened canines stabbing into her bottom lip.

"Locke, I can't ask you to do that," she whispered, her mouth ever latched to his throat. The one he exposed so easily to someone like her. He knew all about her. She was an assassin, and still he wrapped his arms lovingly around her and pulled her close to him. "I can't let you follow me." Her teeth grazed lightly against his soft, tan skin.

"And what will you do, Scarlette?" She looked back up at him, "What will you do when you leave?" He kissed her hairline, and she tucked it into her heart with all the other lost, forgotten loves. She knew this is what she had to do. It was the curse. Cursed to love and kill. Leaving never helps. She always finds her hands around their throat, or a knife in their heart.

"Me?" she said breathily, her curse taking over her voice, forcing the words she really wanted to say into the deepest, darkest part of her soul. The place she was never allowed to touch. She ducked her head to that precious throat hollow, pressing her lips to the spot for long, long, longing moments, "I'll make heads roll," She ghosted her lips along his collarbone, making him groan. She kissed his shoulder, her teeth again grazing. Her throat swelled, words that weren't hers dripping menacingly from her mouth, "Starting with yours, my love," She winced, the words tearing the edges of her soul.

She pressed her face to his shoulder, eyelids fluttering, tears escaping her eyes. Locke stiffened below her and she could feel his muscles tensing. The one thing she hadn't told him, "Scarlette?" he whispered. He untangled his arms from the small of her back, pushing himself up and away from her. Her head left his shoulder, her tears streaking to hit the blankets, staining them.

She quickly reached out to him, snaking her arms around his torso, "No!" she rasped, her voice her own again, "No. Don't move away from me, Locke, please!" He flinched at her touch, trying to untangle her snare, but she held fast, not wanting him to be afraid of her. Not now. She told him of the deaths that haunted her, and he didn't move away from her, so why now?

"This was your plan the whole time? To kill me? You said you loved me, Scarlette. You lied to me!" He thrashed, wanting out of her arms. Out. Away from her. There was fear etched deep into his face. The love had left. They were no longer sleepily entangled, but fighting a losing battle against each other. She couldn't let him go. It was starting to feel real. She loved him, and he was leaving her.

"No. No, Locke, please. There's one thing I haven't told you because I thought I could get a handle on it before it came true. I thought I could run away from this, but it's drowning me, Locke. It's taking over and this one time I need to fight it. I cannot let it win" She tightened her grip on his torso, wanting to stay him. She wanted to kiss his skin once more, wanted to feel his muscles relaxed and lazy, but instead they continued to get pulled taut.

"Scarlette, let me go. Stay away from me!" He pushed on her shoulder then moved to grip her hips, to pull her away, but his skin on hers lit her aflame, "Scarlette, let me go!" He pushed, pulled, but she didn't let him go. She could never let him go.

She got desperate. She continued to cry and through the tears and the swelling, blocking throat, she choked out, "I'm cursed, Locke." He stopped moving all at once, his muscles flexing and and unflexing. He was silent, but he was breathing. At least he was breathing.