I thought about all the messages I’d read. In fact, they were what spurred me on to step into the café in the first place. Peter was an emotional abuser and very controlling. The fact that Kirby wasn’t begging him not to be mad or telling him she’d run right over to his house were the only reasons that had stopped me from driving over to his fancy condo and slitting his throat.

This possessive sensation was new and stirred the darker, more out-of-control side of my personality. It was the side of me that was kin to Abel, and it was the side that I worked hard to keep pushed down. That side of myself was unpredictable and had almost gotten Abel and me caught a time or two. It was completely fascinating that it was Sunshine pulling this out of me.

The next flower was complete perfection, and I gave Karen a moment to prepare for the next cut as a reward.

“What do you think, Karen? Do you think they sound like a good match to you?” I said, not expecting an answer, and one didn’t come. “I also learned that she’s smart but doesn’t apply herself when it comes to her schoolwork, according to her mother. Her mother is already an FBI agent and seems a bit emotionally depraved. You know, the overbearing, in-your-face type? I think I can use their damaged relationship to my advantage.”

I wiped away more droplets of blood and began carving the centrepiece, which was going to be an eye. And not just any eye but one of Kirby’s. An image from the café and her yelping as the hot coffee spilled all over her arms kept dancing around inside my brain. My cock instantly hardened. Her scream was as unique and beautiful as the rest of her. I rolled out the tense muscles in my neck as I took control of the unusual emotions.

“So tell me, Karen, why do you think I’m drawn to this girl? Other than her obviously unusual eyes, what is this visceral reaction attributed to?”

She lay there perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling. If it weren’t for her chest rising and falling, I would have thought she was already dead. I smacked my hand on the table beside her head, and her body jerked as another muffled sob came from behind the ball gag in her mouth.

“It’s not nice to ignore people, Karen. Do you not have any manners? I suppose not. That is why you’re on my table, after all.”

She turned her head as much as the restraint would allow her to look at me, and I stared into the plain, shit-brown eyes that did nothing for me. There wasn’t even a fleck of another color—no gold, green, or even hazel. Her eyes were completely and utterly uninteresting, just like the rest of her annoying existence.