When I spoke enviously of Josephine’s long lashes, rosy cheeks and soft curves, the corners of my Samael’s lips lifted, and he let out a low, menacing laugh that sent an erotic chill down my spine. He withdrew his blade and spoke in a hauntingly satisfied murmur to its blood-stained tip: “My love, all skeletons look the same.”
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]The Death of Envy,
1 thought on “The Death of Envy”
I love this story. The last line is beautiful.