bunched in one fist, he pulled her into his arms, forcing The Hunger to wait. "Look at me," he commanded softly. Head rigid, her unfocused eyes met his.
The first thing he saw was that her name was Giselle.
Then he saw everything else.
The vicious arcing of the leather belt, the searing agony each time it kissed her flesh, even Siebold's promise of better things to come as his thick fingers worked himself to orgasm over her beaten body.
Rage made Vic hiss and bare his teeth; The Hunger saw its chance and took it.
With his fangs sunk into the softness of her throat and the sweet richness of hot copper filling his mouth, one small thread of sanity remained to control The Hunger before it could destroy the woman whose warmth he rocked in his arms like an infant . . .
While The Hunger obliterated everything else.
18
REVELATION 19:8
. . . She shall be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white:
for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints.
~ * ~
"Please," Jo said, extending a hand toward the girl on the front pew. "Don't be frightened. You're safe here." The shaky light from the votive candle showed that her visitor was terrified, although already the little dog had come to scamper around Jo's ankles. The girl, a bedraggled teenager, scrambled from the bench, her eyes dark orbs of terror darting frantically from her pet to Jo. But for the dog, Jo knew the girl would have run out the church doors and into disaster.
"Look," Jo lifted the small terrier, "he likes me." She smiled reassuringly as the dog, its cataract-covered eyes blinking with happiness, wriggled and tried to lick her face. "He wouldn't come near me if I wasn't all right. What's his name?"
The girl hesitated, then answered cautiously. "Beauregard." The words came through gritted teeth as she fought to control her fear. "Beau, for short." She flinched at the volume of their voices in the cavern-like hall. As she pushed the hair from her eyes, Jo saw dark liquid leaking from her palms, like the stigmata of Christ.
"You've been hurt!" She lowered Beau to the floor and steadied him until he found his footing. "We need to clean you up or the smell of blood will have the vampires battering at the doors all night." She motioned to the right, at the dark shadows beyond the altar. "I've got bandages in the office. I'm Jo. What's your name?"
"Louise." The girl took a few steps but seemed reluctant to come closer. "Do you live here? In the church?"
"Of course." Jo tilted her head. "What safer place could there be?"
"There are lots of churches that aren't safe anymore." Louise glanced around again and missed Jo's puzzled look. "It's so dark in here. Doesn't that make you nervous?"
"Not at all." Jo gestured at the altar and its carefully polished holy objects. "This is a place where God's children can come for safety and solace anytime. There is no evil here, in either daylight or darkness." Her hair floated around her white dress like a shimmering veil and she swept it aside and picked up the matchbook again. "But if it makes you feel better, I'll light more candles. If you like, I'll light them all ."
Back in the vestibule something scraped against the front doors. There was a quick, sputtering hiss like the pop of a dud firecracker, then a muffled, enraged howl. Louise whirled, but Jo never faltered as she touched a flame to another six candles. Beau's ears perked at the noise, but he didn't bark, and Louise was too exhausted to move away when Jo took her elbow kindly. "I'm sorry that scared you." Her voice was soothing as she urged Louise toward the back, leaving little Beau to follow the sound of their voices. "But they really won't stop unless we bandage your hands." Louise looked shell-shocked and weary, and Jo's heart went out to her. Both Louise's hands were crusted with dried blood topped with droplets of fresh red. Still, Jo couldn't help smiling. "I'm glad you came tonight," she said earnestly. Her arm came up and she gave the older girl a quick,
The first thing he saw was that her name was Giselle.
Then he saw everything else.
The vicious arcing of the leather belt, the searing agony each time it kissed her flesh, even Siebold's promise of better things to come as his thick fingers worked himself to orgasm over her beaten body.
Rage made Vic hiss and bare his teeth; The Hunger saw its chance and took it.
With his fangs sunk into the softness of her throat and the sweet richness of hot copper filling his mouth, one small thread of sanity remained to control The Hunger before it could destroy the woman whose warmth he rocked in his arms like an infant . . .
While The Hunger obliterated everything else.
18
REVELATION 19:8
. . . She shall be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white:
for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints.
~ * ~
"Please," Jo said, extending a hand toward the girl on the front pew. "Don't be frightened. You're safe here." The shaky light from the votive candle showed that her visitor was terrified, although already the little dog had come to scamper around Jo's ankles. The girl, a bedraggled teenager, scrambled from the bench, her eyes dark orbs of terror darting frantically from her pet to Jo. But for the dog, Jo knew the girl would have run out the church doors and into disaster.
"Look," Jo lifted the small terrier, "he likes me." She smiled reassuringly as the dog, its cataract-covered eyes blinking with happiness, wriggled and tried to lick her face. "He wouldn't come near me if I wasn't all right. What's his name?"
The girl hesitated, then answered cautiously. "Beauregard." The words came through gritted teeth as she fought to control her fear. "Beau, for short." She flinched at the volume of their voices in the cavern-like hall. As she pushed the hair from her eyes, Jo saw dark liquid leaking from her palms, like the stigmata of Christ.
"You've been hurt!" She lowered Beau to the floor and steadied him until he found his footing. "We need to clean you up or the smell of blood will have the vampires battering at the doors all night." She motioned to the right, at the dark shadows beyond the altar. "I've got bandages in the office. I'm Jo. What's your name?"
"Louise." The girl took a few steps but seemed reluctant to come closer. "Do you live here? In the church?"
"Of course." Jo tilted her head. "What safer place could there be?"
"There are lots of churches that aren't safe anymore." Louise glanced around again and missed Jo's puzzled look. "It's so dark in here. Doesn't that make you nervous?"
"Not at all." Jo gestured at the altar and its carefully polished holy objects. "This is a place where God's children can come for safety and solace anytime. There is no evil here, in either daylight or darkness." Her hair floated around her white dress like a shimmering veil and she swept it aside and picked up the matchbook again. "But if it makes you feel better, I'll light more candles. If you like, I'll light them all ."
Back in the vestibule something scraped against the front doors. There was a quick, sputtering hiss like the pop of a dud firecracker, then a muffled, enraged howl. Louise whirled, but Jo never faltered as she touched a flame to another six candles. Beau's ears perked at the noise, but he didn't bark, and Louise was too exhausted to move away when Jo took her elbow kindly. "I'm sorry that scared you." Her voice was soothing as she urged Louise toward the back, leaving little Beau to follow the sound of their voices. "But they really won't stop unless we bandage your hands." Louise looked shell-shocked and weary, and Jo's heart went out to her. Both Louise's hands were crusted with dried blood topped with droplets of fresh red. Still, Jo couldn't help smiling. "I'm glad you came tonight," she said earnestly. Her arm came up and she gave the older girl a quick,
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