Ladd Russo loves Lua, but one day, he'll have to kill her.

If he didn't have to kill her, he would hardly love her as much.

He'll kill her the day she flinches at his touch.

Lua never flinches.

Here is how they make love.

Ladd saunters into the room Lua is in, and he breaks an item - this is a tradition.

(The previous broken items had all been trinkets that he'd given to Lua. On that day, she had stared mutely at them. A motley crew of fragile birds lined up on her dressing table.

"Why, Ladd?" A glass dove glinted in the light, trapped in her hand, her grip was loose, as if she was torn between crushing it in her palm or letting it fall to the floor.

"Do you like them, my sweet Lua?"

"If it pleases you, Ladd."

"Then they'll be beautiful when they shatter.")

This time he throws a heavy book at the mirror.

Lua is in front of it, combing her hair, and has the grace to step to one side before the book hits. One shard grazes her cheek, but the rest of them scatter on the floor as she walks through them, barefoot, to greet Ladd.

Ladd draws her into a strong embrace as she stands there placidly, waiting for him to speak. He presses a thumb against the scratch on her cheek, causing fat red droplets of blood to seep out, then gently dabs them away with his pure white handkerchief.

Ladd kisses the scratch, licking a drop of blood away, then looks down at Lua.

Blood seeps from her soles and stains the carpet, she has not escaped entirely unscathed, but she doesn't react to the minor pain. After all, she loves Ladd. Every other pain, every bruise on her neck, every cut on her thigh, every burn on her palm is eclipsed by that simple fact.

"You're hurt, dear Lua."

"I know."

He laughs merrily, then throws her onto the bed, tearing her nightgown off. She could have slipped out of it earlier with very little effort, but she allows Ladd to take his pleasure in the little things.

Her pale thighs are open. He only pauses to remove his pants, and then he's inside her, she's always ready for him. He grips her shoulders hard enough to leave a bruise that won't be covered by her usual gowns, to show everyone that she is his to love and his to kill.

She doesn't move away as his thrusts intensify, but presses her body against his.

He bites her lip enough to redden it, it wouldn't do to make his dear Lua bleed tonight, it's best to draw it out so she's healed between sessions and he can hurt her pale flesh all over again. Red looks best on white, after all.

He pulls her unbound hair, careful not to tear it out, firm enough to cause pain, and she leans forward and kisses him.

A few hours after, Lua is lying on the bed, the soles of her feet bleeding sluggishly. Ladd gets the tweezers and a basin of water. He picks out the shards from Lua's soles, then lowers her feet into the water. Her pale feet cloud the water with red, causing it to turn murkier.

"I'll kill you one day, lovely Lua," he muses.

"I love you too, Ladd."

He laughs.