Dirty Flowers – The Lion and the Mouse Read Online Kenya Wright

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 148949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
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To my surprise, the gardener cried out, “A man may try to resist it, but ultimately, he is powerless against the one his heart truly desires.”

“Oh shit.” Maxwell bobbed his head. “You got to kill this motherfucker. Philosophy and shit. He’s being mad disrespectful.”

I kneeled down as they separated his legs. “Tell me about Lunita and you.”

“P-please—”

“Tell me!”

The gardener stiffened.

“How did it begin? I would love to hear the beautiful story.” I gazed at the torch as the flames shifted to blueish-orange. “Who approached who?”

“S-she would come at night j-just to dance in the garden.” The gardener’s bottom lip quivered. “She was beautiful.”

“Yo.” Maxwell shook his head.

“O-one night she. . .asked me to put flowers in her hair.” Tears spilled from the gardener’s eyes. “When I did, she kissed me.”

My vision turned red, with bright white lights flashing in the periphery. I felt my heart race, rushing blood faster and faster through my body.

My hand shook as I gripped the blow torch. “What else?”

“After that, she came to visit every other night and. . .more would happen with each visit.”

“Oh, he’s definitely about to die right now,” Maxwell said to someone behind me.

I spoke through clenched teeth, “How many times did you two have sex?”

“L-last night was the only time there was. . .penetration.”

I scowled. “Yet, you did other things?”

“Y-yes.”

“Touched her breasts.”

He slowly nodded.

“Licked between her thighs?”

“Y-yes.”

My anger boiled over, consuming me in a wall of raging hellfire.

A bloodcurdling roar ripped my throat as I lunged for him, slamming the flames into his crotch with a ferocity that shook my core.

“No!” His agonizing screams tore from him and echoed through the garden like violent thunder.

The malicious flames crackled and snapped, engulfing his crotch and clawing up his stomach. The aroma of roasted meat suffocated the air.

I glared. “Put the flames out on his chest, so he does not die too fast!”

My men did their best to put out the ones that spread, and still I kept the flames on his almost nonexistent crotch.

“Oh, man. I can’t look at this.” Maxwell headed out of the garden, leaving a trail of smoke behind him.

When I turned the torch off, only a blackened mound of crust remained in the center of his thighs. Steam billowed from the space.

Some of my men recoiled back in terror.

Horror bulged in the gardener’s eyes. He switched back to Russian. “G-god, take me. G-give me your i-infinite mercy. T-take me.”

I slung the blow torch on the ground. “No. God will not give you mercy today.”

The men let him go.

He collapsed to the ground.

Panting, I crawled to the gardener’s side and sat down next to him.

The man’s body quaked. With those burns in that area, I wasn’t sure how long he would survive. I almost asked David to get the gardener medical attention so I could have more time with him.

I gazed at the gardener.

Sweat drenched his face. He shook constantly, never lying still. Yet, he looked up at me with defiant eyes. “I-I have no r-regrets.”

“No?”

“Y-you think you will k-kill me, b-but our love is. . .eternal.”

“I hope you are wrong because if that is so, I will come to heaven or hell, wherever you are, and I will kill you again and again and again.” I grabbed the back of his head and turned him over.

The man screamed in horror, “Lunita!!”

Sneering, I slammed the front of his face into the dirt, over and over. Blood gushed out of his face and spilled into the ground, turning it into a death-tainted mud, and I continued to slam his head into the ground again and again.

Until his screams ceased.

Until his face was no longer recognizable, just a bone fragment, shattered, raw, unidentifiable stump of scarred meat.

Until I found some sense of calm and my rage simmered.

When I slung him down, there was barely anything left of his head.

Dirt and blood covered my face and clothes. I turned to David. “Have him buried in the garden. When I am angry, I want to piss on that area.”

Chapter 8

Steam

Emily

Stressed, I lay in bed.

Moonlight streamed in through the curtains and onto my face. All was still and quiet, save for the gentle sound of my breaths.

I’d talked to Maxwell for a few minutes, doing my best not to smoke with him. But, I really wanted to. My nerves were everywhere.

Here, I thought I could save people and like Kaz had said, more had died. What could I have done to save everyone? How could I have truly fixed it all?

I had waited on going to get Mrs. Delphine’s help.

I wanted to wait until Emilio was six months before we headed to New Orleans. I needed time to get used to being a mother, and I wanted my son to be a little bit bigger.

Even more. . .I didn’t know what type of healing would come from New Orleans. In that last moment of Fela’s death he had talked about my personalities and who was the host with a knowing smile as if I weren’t the original.


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