Everything was perfect. As we sat in the open field, the wind blew from all directions. It kept us cool. It was a beautiful sight, really: the colours of the newly-bloomed flowers, the feel of the soft grass. He held me close and whispered into my ear. I could feel his warm, sweet breath on my skin. I was too distracted by the warmth that I didn't pay much attention to what he was saying. His words soon became a chant, beckoning me to give in and listen. Finally, I heard what he said, and the words sent a chill down my spine. He grinned, and said, "I'll be the death of you, my love."