Tastes Like Love <CANCELLED>

>Be Anon.
>You're married to a calico cat who happens to be a professional chef.
>After a few years of marriage, she leaves town for a month to study new recipes abroad.
>Comes home... different.
>She was always quiet, but now rarely speaks at all, using terse, matter-of-fact sentences when she does.
>Her pleasingly soft, melodic voice is even more ethereal sounding now.
>She has an almost perpetual, tiny smile on her face
>And her cooking...
>It was always good, but it became spectacular with her studies.
>But... something is wrong.
>She firmly changes the channel any time you try to watch the news, a worrying frown crossing her face.
>She goes out to get ingredients every few days; when asked from where, her only answer is "Town."
>She used to cook a lot of greens; now not a meal goes by without her cooking meat.
>She vehemently refuses to let you watch her cook, when she used to love having an audience.
>In public, she sometimes stares silently at random passersby.
>One time, you saw her lick her lips at a mouse man passing by her.
>She's started using more "flavorful" terms to describe people.
>"Zesty" when she would've once said "grouchy".

>After a few months of this, you come home from work early one day.
>She rushes out to greet you, still in her apron.
>...which is stained red in places.
>She casually waves off any questions with "Tomatoes."
>Keeps a close eye on you, occasionally blocking your path if you head towards the kitchen.
>Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but she's pretty fit despite her job.
>Eventually, you relent and go to the living room, asking her to bring you a beer.
>She complies and opens the can with a claw, smiling.
>You can't help but notice more "tomato" stains on her claws.
>She follows your gaze, frowns, and licks her claws clean before smiling and patting you on the head.
>"Supper will be done soon."
>She heads back into the kitchen, then stops before going in
>"Anon, stay here. I want this meal to be a surprise."
>Her voice is concerningly serious despite her smile...
>She enters the kitchen, only emerging hours later with an extremely appetizing steak dinner.
>Her eyes practically light up when you tell her you enjoyed it.
>"I'm glad. Good meat is hard to find."
>"Where did you find it, anyway? This is the best steak I've had in a while."
>Her pupils narrow to slits.
>"...I got it in town."
>"Where from? You should go there more."
>She actually frowns a little.
>"...they were going out of business."
>"Oh, that sucks."
>Her smile returns as she nods.

>Go out shopping with her one day.
>You check out at a store, and the cashier, a doe, starts flirting.
>She wears a hibiscus in her hair.
>Your wife suddenly shows up next to you and silently shows off her ring, smiling at the doe.
>The deer woman apologizes, looking a bit intimidated.
>As you leave, your wife stares over her shoulder at the cashier.
>She goes out for ingredients the next day.
>After another long day of cooking, she serves up some expertly seasoned venison.
>She smiles and asks you for your opinion on something she picked up today.
>Turns around to show off..
>A hibiscus, tucked behind her ear.
>"I thought it looked nice."
>Assure her you like it.
>Go to return something to that clothing store the next day...
>The doe cashier is gone.

>That night, you lie awake, haunted by your thoughts.
>...there's not a store in this COUNTY that sells venison.
>Plus, your wife always walks to town when she goes after ingredients, so it's not like she went to another county...
>Then there's that flower.  It's not impossible she went out and bought one identical to that of the cashier, but it's certainly fueling some... uncomfortable speculation.
>There's one more thing...
>You checked the news on your phone after she went to sleep...
>There's a missing persons report out for the doe.
>Maybe it's because it's 3 AM, but you shudder as your mind slowly formulates a conclusion.
>...
>Dear god.
>Things you had passed off as innocuous are suddenly thrust into a new light.
>You think of every gift she's given you since she came home from abroad.  The watch, exactly like the one your old boss wore.  A leather wallet that looked... oddly worn in.
>Then there's the undeniable pattern with her menu.
>A cow woman made some comment about cats when your wife walked by.  You had hamburgers the next day.  That doe flirted with you.  You had venison the next day.
>You can only draw one conclusion, and you do so with a shudder.
>Your wife is not only a serial killer...
>...she's serving her victims up to you.

>Disgust wells up in your stomach.
>Have you really been eating PEOPLE?
>How could your sweet, loving wife do something like this on a regular basis?
>You roll over and look at her, feeling rather sick as your eyes scan her face.
>Even in her sleep, that faint smile lingers.  Her fangs poke out of her mouth slightly, and for a moment you swear they look sharpened...
>...get a hold of yourself, Anon.  You're reading too far into a series of coincidences.
>You're happily married to a kind woman who happens to be a hell of a chef.  SURELY she's not actually dangerous.
>With a quiet grumble, she throws an arm roughly over you, pulling you close.
>Looks like her claws are stained again.  You carefully reach for your phone, using the light to get a better look.
>Sure enough, each of her claws is stained red.  A faint whiff of blood hits your nose...
>Your heart skips a beat when your wife grumbles again, her eyes nearly fluttering open.
>You quickly put your phone away and lay back down, struggling to fall asleep.
>She pulls you closer, claws digging into your shoulder, and begins to purr.
>You never thought that sound would chill you to the core.