Prologue
I’ve been watchingthe garden from my bedroom window, patiently waiting for the opportune moment.
When I finally see her emerge, I can only hope that she’s left something behind for me.
My sister walks out of the shack, covered in blood, and satisfaction written all over her face. I feel like I’ve been waiting years for this moment, even though I know it’s only been a few hours.
Ana Sofia is as cruel as she is beautiful.
She does things to men that I would never dream of doing, and thankfully, our father doesn’t require it of me, nor of her.
Sometimes, I wish he’d let me watch her work. She does what her heart tells her to in order to repay our father for his kindness, and in return he looks at her with so much love in his eyes.
It’s the same way he looks at me, only the stars don’t shine as brightly as they do for my sister.
I miss being Papa’s little girl more than I’d like to admit. Even though I know there’s not a competition for his affection, I can’t help but wish that she would …
I look down at my bare feet, telling myself not to think such things. I sigh, then turn my eyes to the yard and go back to watching Ana Sofia. She’s almost out of sight now, and that means I’ll have to wait at least another hour before I can go see what she’s done.
I’m not the scared little girl I was when he brought her into our home. I’d like to think that I’ve grown into a mature, thoughtful woman who could cut the throat of any man he asked me to.
It’s not the time to worry about those things right now. I have something else that I want to do and none of them involve proving myself to our father.
I walk over to my vanity and pick up a thin, black hair-tie, loop my hair back into a ponytail and twist it until I’ve secured in place.
I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror and smile slightly. I don’t look like the monster I so desperately want to be, and I think that will work to my advantage when the moment presents itself.
For now, I’m nothing more than a simple young woman, waiting for her sister to wash up and go to bed, so I can sneak out and take what isn’t mine.
It’s become something of a game with me and Ana Sofia, and somehow, she still manages to find fault in my actions each and every time.
I begin to pace the white, woolen carpet of my bedroom floor. Patience is not something that I’m lacking in, but I’ve been without the feeling of being loved for far too long and I’m beginning to think she’s doing this on purpose.
She used to go days between kills, then weeks, and now it’s months.
It could be because she’s shed more blood than most of Papa’s men put together in just a few, short years, but more than likely it’s her way of trying to stop my compulsion.
She should know that there are some things that can’t be helped—no matter how good the intentions are—and I don’t fault her for hers.
Ana Sofia De la Cruz has secrets of her own. Her need to feel loved comes at the end of another woman’s hand.
I came across this one night when I walked into her room without knocking. I wanted her to return a dress that she had borrowed and instead found her in bed with one of the young maids.
She was so damn angry.
For a moment, I stood there in shock, and in the next moment I had a hand firmly wrapped around my throat and she was threatening my life if I told anyone.
And I never did.
I had Papa remove the temptation from the home by telling him that I caught the girl stealing from my room.
I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for it, and that’s why she plays these games with me now.
I walk over to my vanity and sit down in the chair, putting my elbows on the table and keeping my eyes on the clock next to my bed.
In thirty minutes, it won’t even matter. She’ll be fast asleep, and I’ll find my way into her little house of horrors to claim a new prize.
And when the morning comes, the game will start all over again just like it always does.