Sunday Short: LUST

Everyone knew her as trouble.

She moved through the city like she owned it—confidence sharp as a blade, smiles that lingered just long enough to make people reckless. Desire followed her everywhere, clung to her like perfume. She never promised love. Never asked for names. She took what she wanted and vanished before morning, leaving behind empty beds and fuller regrets.

Lust was her language. Power, her reward.

---

The news called him the Tinder Killer.

For months, headlines warned women to be careful—dates found butchered in apartments and hotels, faces unrecognizable, identities erased. Police released statements, families begged for answers, and the killer remained free. He was methodical. Invisible. A ghost hiding behind charming profiles and casual swipes.

That night, she scrolled through Tinder like she always did, bored more than curious. Faces blurred together until one stopped her thumb. Handsome. Clean-cut. Calm in a way that suggested control. His bio was simple. His messages effortless.

She didn’t know his name was already whispered in fear across the city.

---

They met at his place.

The night unfolded like so many before—heat, proximity, surrender. Still, something felt different. His touch was careful, rehearsed. His eyes watched her not with hunger, but with assessment, as if memorizing details.

She didn’t mind. Want was enough.

When it was over, she lay still, breath shallow, staring at the ceiling.

Then came the pain.

Sharp. Precise.

Her body seized as warmth spilled beneath her, the room spinning. She tried to speak, to scream—but her voice dissolved into silence. He stepped back, movements calm, practiced. A professional at ending things.

Another match erased.

---

As he cleaned himself in the bathroom mirror, methodically washing away every trace, the apartment grew quiet.

Then—

Laughter.

Soft. Amused.

He froze.

She was standing.

Blood no longer stained her skin. The wounds across her body were closing, flesh pulling itself together like it had never been broken. Her smile was wider now. Wrong. Her eyes burned—not with pain, but with recognition.

“You know,” she said gently, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

His composure shattered. “That’s not possible.”

“Oh, it is.” Her voice deepened, layered, ancient. “You prey on desire. You mistake it for weakness.”

Behind her, something unfurled—vast, fiery wings stretching until they scraped the walls. The air thickened, heavy with heat and smoke.

“You hunt the lustful,” she whispered. “So do I.”

She stepped closer.

“You thought you were the monster in this story,” she said, smiling. “But you’re just another offering.”

The floor beneath him split open, glowing red, screaming with heat. Hands—burning, clawing—dragged him down as he screamed, his legend ending where no one would ever find him.

She watched calmly as the darkness sealed itself shut.

Later, her phone buzzed.

A new match.

She smiled and went on to the next.