The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow. Candles flickered on the table and a fire crackled behind the grill, its embers popping as they wafted up the flue.

Viola cupped her lover’s face, her fingers lingering against his soft stubble. She couldn’t get enough of this man. Even after a year, just his touch made tiny fireworks burst behind her eyes.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year since we met,” she said. “Such a perfect year.”

She took a sip from her glass, the deep red liquid staining her lips.

As Viola’s tongue darted out, gathering every, last droplet, she saw her lover’s eyes lock on her mouth, and it was all the invitation she needed.

She leaned in and pressed her body hard against him, sliding her palm under his t-shirt and brushing it across his strong stomach.

He groaned, his muscles flexing and twitching beneath her tender caress.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer,” she said, as her heart thundered against her ribcage.

He whimpered in response, and Viola thought she might explode.

When the doorbell chimed, they both jumped.

Viola leapt up. “Trick or treaters!” she said and planted a kiss on the tip of her lover’s nose. “I’ll be right back. Then we can really celebrate our anniversary.”

***

“Trick or treat,” the children sang, their happy faces beaming.

Viola looked around the kids to their mum standing by the gate, “Wait! Are you dressed as Nancy from The Craft?”

The mum shrugged. “It was my husband’s idea. He has an unhealthy love of that movie.”

 “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of witchy love!” Viola said with a laugh. She looked down at the kids and scooped an array of colourful candy into their jack-o’-lantern buckets. “I love your costumes too.”

“I love yours,” the little girl said. “I have a black cat at home!”

“You do?”

Viola wore a black jumpsuit, eyeliner whiskers, and a kitten ears headband.

“Meow,” she said, stretching out her arm in a cat scratch motion.

The little girl giggled.

“Come on you two,” the mum called. “Thank the nice kitty.”

“Thank you,” they sang in unison.

“Happy Halloween, guys,” Viola called after the kids as they wandered down the path, checking out each other’s haul. She glanced across the street and noticed her neighbour glaring at her from his porch.

“Pagan whore,” he hollered.

“Happy Halloween to you too, Mr Jenkins,” Viola hollered back with a cheery wave. She set the bowl of candy on her front steps and closed the door, flicking off the outside light.

“That’s enough interruptions.”

***

Viola ran her hand through her lover’s hair as she moved behind him pausing for a moment to drink in his beauty. His broad chest rose and fell with deep, fast breaths, and his pale cheeks had a pink blush. A shiver of delicious anticipation ran down Viola’s spine, “Now, where were we?” she said. “Oh yes.”

She took a dagger from the table and sliced it along her lover’s arm, holding her wine glass below the wound to catch the falling blood.

A muffled cry escaped around his gag.

Dipping her fingers into the sticky liquid, she traced an upside-down cross on his forehead, before sucking the remnants off her fingertips.

“You taste really good,” she said. “The best yet.”

 He whimpered again, and she pressed her bloodied finger to his gagged lips.

“Shh, my darling. Your soul will be an All Hallows’ Eve gift to our Lord Satan himself. Pretty cool, huh?”

A single tear trickled from the corner of her lover’s eye.

Viola raised her dagger high above her head. “Ready?” she said.

He thrashed wildly, struggling against the ropes that bound him to the altar table; his eyes wide, his frantic screams subdued by the material stuffed into his mouth.

“Oh, stop making such a fuss,” Viola said, and she swiftly swooped the blade down, plunging it into her lover’s chest and silencing his cries.

“You always said your heart belonged to me.”

© Amy Hutton 2020