Exquisite Poison (Original Draft)

*Epilogue - As We End, Shall We Begin?

Oh, but Ash still so loved to take her off her guard. What must the others think, to be standing there, seeing them in the aftermath of the executions, only to blink and find them gone?

Netta was only afforded a moment to think about this before Ash's raw, burgeoning desire seared, purified. She gasped, her head lolling back, knocking into the hard surface of the table below her.

Where are we?

They were back in the coffee shop, Netta discovered. More precisely, Ash was hunched over her atop the table where the Witches had been biding their time before they approached Ophelia.

Ash growled, the sound sliding past her spine until it seemed to pool, hungry, in her abdomen. "You had me serving them food and drink, Nettles. I thought we agreed that I wouldn't have to pretend to be subservient." His right hand was sliding, running along a memorized path down to her ankle, finger tips so like the feelers of some large creature.

Netta pulled away, enough to gaze at Ash. His green eyes were mostly covered by his eyelids, drifting halfway closed. He almost looked as though he were relaxed - content, even. But Netta knew better.

The almost sleepy droop on Ash's lips transformed as Netta felt his presence in her mind. His mouth slowly upturned into a sneer that seemed malicious, made even more so by the sight of the sharp teeth that were revealed.

"Can't blame something like me for trying, no?" He leaned down and purposefully breathed on Netta.

Netta shut her eyes, allowed her mouth to fall open, to allow the smell, the humidity, of his enchanted breath to become her air. As the fog of his breath faded, Netta felt as Ash pressed their abdomens together. Doubling down on the lingering, aggressive persuasion.

Netta could not help herself. His pheromones so rarely affected her any longer, leaving her with only an appreciation for the floral, somewhat sickly sweet scent of his breath. She smiled, then rose her hand up to run the harsh, sharp lines along the side of Ash's face.

"Why do you keep trying so much to persuade me, as though I was in further need of it?"

Ash had gripped his bottom lip with his teeth, the indents of the sharp edges like small knife edges. He pulled his teeth away, tenderly grimacing. "I don't know how this sort of thing is supposed to go - between people like us."

People like us. Would Netta ever become used to being what Ash was? Magic - Monster - whatever their kind was called, would she ever be able to wrap her mind around the fact that she had been transformed?

Still, there were certain points that Netta felt comfortable with the thought of being able to anchor herself to.

She rose her hand, ran it down the back of Ash's head, feeling the soft mass of his reddish, dark hair. She felt what joy and pleasure even the simple act of her sliding her hand through his hair brought the man.

Ash closed his eyes as though he were giving himself over to some wonderful, sublime experience. And Netta knew in truth how pleasurable it was for him, for she shared in his emotions.

This was the truth that he had hidden in such plain sight and for so long. How helpless he could be, if only Netta caressed rather than slapped him. He was in many ways, she could see now more than ever, a man who was made for loving, being loved. Had once been cursed by it.

And she had long fought with the concept, the idea that she was likely to have been engineered to love him. In the weeks since their escape from the still-smoking cinders of her old family home, Netta had learned to start thinking of the world in a different manner.