Once it burns #2

Fire is catching. Fire is vengefull.

Fire is beautiful. Fire is deadly.

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She was weird. It was that simple. There was nothing else to be said about it. The woman he was traveling with was weird. She was smoking hot, he had to admit, and yet she always gave him the impression of a witless being.

Good.

All the easier for him. Although he had to admit, he liked them tough. Liked the struggle, the thrill. He liked the fighters, but she would warm his bed just fine. He couldn't wait to get her alone. After that, she was his to do with as he wished.

An hour of wait later, she finally excused herself from the gathering and made her way inside. For a woman who hadn't uttered a single word- such interest in a public gathering was odd.

But he cared naught. Her shapely legs were fine, and she had curves in all the right places. She was wearing a loose gown, but he had enough experience with woman to know when he had found a prize.

And a prize she was.

He followed her noiselessly to the back of the ship. At night at sea, everything was dark and quiet. He followed her relentlessly, growing excited by the minute.

He was looking forward to her screams, her shouts, her struggles. He had no doubt she would put up a strong defense, he had read that strength in her eyes. The strength men failed to see. She was strong, and he would enjoy breaking her.

As soon as she opened the door to her room, he pushed her in. Holding a hand over her mouth, he barred the door.

"Ah little temptress!! your efforts are in vain. You are mine" His voice was raw, his throat convulsing with barely contained excitement. In return, she only fought harder. He was right- she was a fighter. But she was a woman.

Weak.

A single slap echoed through the deck as she fell back with the strength of it. It was all he needed; in a single move, he ripped open her dark gown to bare her chest. Gods almighty. The risk to his reputation if he was ever caught was worth it. The woman was a siren. The stuff of fantasies.

His eyes raked her body in a way that would make any respectable woman quiver with disgust. And yet the vixen made no move to cover herself.

Ah, a bold one was she. Maybe he wasn't doing such a shameful thing after all- raping a prostitute wasn't rape was it? Maybe he would throw her some cash after he was done.

It was the last thing he thought before his hand came in contact with soft flesh. What man would be able to resist that? A better man than he for sure.

He would have savored the touch if the bitch hadn't started struggling again. He wouldn't have minded, not really, if her foot hadn't come in contact with his groin.

With a punch to her jaw. he shut her up. How dare she? Rage clouded his vision until all he could see was red. He would tell the whore. He didn't need her well to fuck her.

Kick after kick he rained to her abdomen until she was a bloody mess on the floor. And yet, not once did she whine. Not once did he hear a sob. Self-righteous whore.

He picked her up from the floor by her hair. And their she hung as he rid her of the rest of her clothes.

Her murderous eyes were the last thing he saw before he started burning. The putrid smell of charred meat saturated the air as he felt as if his body was melting to the ground.

He let her go and she fell to the ground with the thud. He was in too much pain to care. As minutes passed, he felt his skin sizzle with heat. Until his cries were that of a man who was dying a painful death.

From the inside out he burned. Fire spread slowly, lazily from his throat, to his lungs and then to his heart.

His clawed at his chest, trying to get it out. The flame he felt he had swallowed. His body singed, as his cries grew lo>ii>uouder.

Any man that would have been unfortunate enough to go by that room that night would have found himself a charred corpse. A corpse left with nothing but hair, charred skin, fat anuid bone.

Unfortunately, that wasn't to be.

Because once it burns, it leaves nothing behind.

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