Summery: sequel to Mnemosyne’s Beggar’s for Roses because a pretty little story made me nervous and feel like she was up to something. Which she was. So this is all her fault, dammit.
YOU REALLY NEED TO READ HER STORY FIRST.
There were people here.
Walking through the garden, trailing their dirty fingers down what belonged to Him.
They better be careful.
He was close, and He would enjoy the taste of fresh meat.
Especially meat as tender as this.
It had been so long since the last ones. The last one had known enough to be afraid, but she thought that tending Him would save her. She was wrong.
But that was long ago, and these two did not seem to know how close they were to Him.
One was female, and glowing with new life. She was untouchable; of course, the island had already claimed her. She came so close though; He almost lost Himself, she smelled so sweet.
But the other.
The other had pain lurking beneath his fingernails. Haunted eyes and shaking hands.
And he owed the island a life.
Closer and closer they came, and the haunted one actually reached out a hand to touch Him.
That one would dare lay a hand on Him nearly made Him strike out in anger, but He could control Himself.
He waited for the hand to fall. He was hungry, and all it would take was one little touch.
But she grabbed the hand before it fell, reprimanding the haunted one gently.
And He was forbidden to touch her.
As they walked away, He seethed in anger.
Next time, He would not be so patient.
They would return. She would not want to leave His garden untended. It was, after all, the most beautiful place on the island.
And she would bring the haunted one with her.
He, the most beautiful flower in the garden, would be waiting.
Indigo orchids are rare, after all.