Page 145 of Wallflower

I should have a mask to ensure I don’t inhale any of this, but the bandana wrapped around my face, that’s tucked into my hoodie, will have to suffice. There’s no way I could get a proper mask without raising a red flag, especially since he knows about my evil streak.

The plants crumble to dust within seconds, the long length of time they were left drying working to my advantage. The granite grinds as I work it into the finest powder possible.

Almost there.

The front screen door creaks open, and I crouch low, needing to remain hidden until I’m finished.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This will have to be good enough, the sound of the circling pestle will undoubtedly lead him my way if he so much as leans toward an open window.

I pull the funnel I made out of rolled paper from my pocket, sticking it in the top of a small corked apothecary jar. It makes me miss my little collection of ground toxins at home. Chelsea used to joke I was a witch-in-the-making. I never corrected her, because then I’d have to tell her the truth.

Slowly, I pour the ground monkshood into the tube, watching as it fills the little jar with toxin. Giddy elation swims through my veins.

I want to be there when Shantel keels over.

Every light in the house starts to flick on as Rip races through the space, sneakers squeaking on the hardwood. “Rose?” he calls out, searching for me. My pulse pounds in my ears as I fight to stay focused. The last thing I need is this shit spilled all over my clothes.

Faintly, I hear the basement door slam open, and his feet pounding down the steps. If he gets distracted by his favourite room in the house, I might have a few extra minutes before he finds me.

To say I was surprised when he showed me the room is an understatement. A full-blown mural of his favourite movies wrap the walls. Bright dinosaur eyes peeking out from behind the shelves housing his expensive dinosaur figurines. Some are highly detailed miniatures, while others are self-made from plastic bricks. On the far wall is a massive projection screen he can pull down at will, and a half a dozen recliners facing it. Several different inflatable dinosaur costumes hang from hooks by a mirror, and when asked why he had them, he simply replied, “Sparring is more fun with them on.” Honestly, I can only hope to see it one day.

I push the cork into the top of the jar, slipping it into a plastic bag before darting to the trash cans stored on the side of the house. Opening the bag on top, I throw the tainted mortar, pestle, crumpled funnel, and gloves in. I do up the bag, and replace the lid, before pulling my sweater back down and slipping off the bandana.

“Rose?” Ripley’s panicked voice reverberates through the house, and I move to the sliding glass door just as he pullsit open. Tucking the small jar and face wrap into my hoodie pocket, I look up at him. “Where were you?” he pants.

“Looking for you,” I reply. “Where’d you go?”

“For a run,” he replies.

“Can you let me know next time? I was worried.”

“Sure. You were sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Well, do it if you’re leaving me.”

“Okay, sorry.”

“You should be,” I reply lightly.

Gods, I’m an ass, but this is a one-time thing.

“Won’t happen again, flower.”

“It better not,” I joke, slipping by him to step inside. I can’t risk him touching me and getting any trace amount of aconite on his skin. “You should shower, I can smell you from here.”

“You going to join me?”

“Maybe… Maybe not.” I shrug, backing down the hall. I just need a minute alone to toss these clothes in the washer and tuck away the jar. I toy with the waistband of my leggings, slowly pushing them down my thighs. “Better hurry, or I may start without you.”

He takes a determined step toward me, ready to fuck me raw on the spot.

“If you listen, I’ll give you what you’ve been aching for.”Just take the fucking bait, Ripley.

“And what’s that?” He strokes his hardness over his pants, as I step out of mine.

I look him right in his gorgeous dark eyes. “My mouth.”