“My heart is so full with love for you, I doubt it’s even my own anymore, Jasper. And with that comes fear, because love is a strange kind of violence. It can destroy you without touching you, yet its impact is more forceful than any weapon. The idea of losing you… I will not recover from it.”
“Starling, all I can think of is you.”
I wrap my fragile, stained, calloused fingers around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. Crushing my lips with his, he swallows the voices, my mind returning to its calm state. I can never express in words how grateful I am that he entered my life.
He breaks the kiss and studies my face.
“My beautiful Starling,” he murmurs.
“I love you,” I breathe.
“I love you more,” he whispers.
I give him a smile. Some might call his response childish, but I need the validation.
“What are we going to do about Tammy?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Whatever you want, my love.”
“Well… I got what I wanted from her…”
I notice the twinkle in his eyes.
The corners of my mouth curve into a grin. “Yes, my love, you may play with her.”
I can tell he has strained himself for me, keeping his bloodlust under control, so I got out of Tammy what I wanted first. It’s only fair that he gets to exercise his demons as well. He fidgets with his hands, glancing nervously at me, and gets up. I frown at him, not used to seeing him like this, almost… antsy.
“I have something for you,” he says, a nervous twitch in his voice.
I tilt my head at him and squint.
“Okay…,” I respond, watching him curiously.
He walks out of the room, and I hear his footsteps on the stairs, the soft pads as he goes up. I wait anxiously for his return, and tuck my legs underneath me as I sit. It’s still hard to fathom sometimes the turn my life took, how choosing my own needs resulted in all of this.
Jasper stands before me, hands behind his back, an uneasy smile plastered on his face. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows, the deadhead moth inked on his throat moving with it. There’s not a trace of the man I’ve come to know as unflinching. He stands there, shy, nervous even. He hands me a velvet burgundy-colored box with a white, satin ribbon around it. Gently, Jasper places it on my lap and looks at me expectantly. I lower my eyes from his to the package and carefully remove the lint. I open it, and my eyes widen with delight.
Inside, there’s a silver, antique locket with intricate details, its surface dulled by time. Fine filigree curls along its edges, softened by decades of touch; the once-bright metal is now worn but still elegant. I take it out, holding the necklace. I watch as the trinket slowly twirls before me.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
A smile grows on his face.
“It’s Victorian… Open it…”
I glance at him through my lashes; the uneasiness he sported earlier is now replaced with excitement. I smile.
The hinge creaks softly when it opens, revealing a velvet-lined hollow within. The interior is stained with age, the fabric darkened to a bruised plum, carrying the faint scent of oldperfume and forgotten skin. However, that is not what catches my attention and makes me gasp, my lips forming an ‘o’.
“Jasper…”
“Do you… like it?” He bites on his lower lip, gauging my reaction.
Inside, there’s a bed of finely braided hair, the strands having the same obsidian color as Jasper’s. The craft is reminiscent of Victorian times, when people would create art from the hair of their deceased loved ones. It’s beautiful in the most delicate and intimate way. On top of it, there’s a small pendulum; the glass vial is filled with a deep red fluid.
“Is that your…blood?” I ask.
He nods, and a flicker of panic appears when I don’t respond immediately to the admission.
