monster raised its head, shimmered, changed, becoming once more the gorgeous girl he'd picked up at the club. Her lips were smeared with blood, and Rick gave scream after soundless scream as she pulled out glistening loops of his intestines, red and wet.
She reached up into him, high on the left, and ripped out a dripping organ. The pain and the hot burn that followed was unbearable.
"Your spleen," she hummed. "A lovely, delicious little bag of blood." She smiled. "I sealed your artery. Wouldn't want you to bleed out and die too quickly. I can only claim the best parts while you're alive. Besides, I like to savor my food."
Sobbing, choking, Rick snuffled and begged. No words. No sound. Please. Please .
She pulled a length of his intestine taut, her movements careful, delicate. Baring her teeth, she tore out a chunk, and Rick felt it. God, he felt it.
"Prairie oysters are a delicacy in some places," she said, reaching down to stroke his testicles.
Rick felt the flow of his urine, hot against his skin.
With a faint slurp, she continued her meal.
----
Chapter Nine
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Whatever was wrong with her, it was getting worse. Time had melted away like an ice cube in the hot sun, and Vivien couldn't find a trace of it. She had huge holes in her day, chunks of time gone, missing. Hours that she knew had passed but that she couldn't remember. That terrified her.
She stared out at the lights of the CN Tower, bright against the dark night sky, and shivered. It was late. Past midnight.
Anxiety chewed at her. She couldn't remember what had happened in the past four or five hours. She'd lost those hours, and she had an ugly suspicion that she wouldn't like them if she found them.
Dain had taken off right after lunch, had hightailed it out of the loft so fast she'd had no doubt he was running from her , from the hot and heavy come-on she was laying on him.
Choices, choices.
Sex with her, or escape.
He'd picked escape.
Which was nothing new in the life of Vivien Cairn. People tended to desert her. Her dad. Nana, who'd taken care of her when she was little and then just up and disappeared one day, never to be heard from again. Her mom, who was so emotionally distant that she might as well have been completely absent. Pat, who'd left her in anger and died.
So she dedicated her life to finding answers. Not for herself, but maybe she could offer closure to others who'd been left behind. She couldn't figure out the puzzle of her own life, but she could figure out the riddles of other people's deaths. She could offer comfort to the families whose loved ones never came back.
Sighing, Vivien tried to stop the pity party. She rarely let herself get down in the dumps, but right now, she couldn't seem to stop. Her mood was probably triggered because she was terrified of her memory lapses. And by the events of the day, the losses, the stress.
God. Why was she thinking about all this now? Tonight?
Because of Dain. Because of the foreign emotions he roused in her. Because the fact that he had fled her less-than-subtle advances was humiliating, and the fact that she was so out of control that she'd pushed him to leave, doubly so.
Her cheeks actually heated with embarrassment as she recalled how, with a quick rundown of where the TV remote was stored, a password for the computer in the kitchen, and finally, a stern admonition that she stay put and keep the doors and windows locked, he'd left with an alacrity just shy of the speed of light, muttering some comments about wards and spells and being safe inside the penthouse.
So he had left. Just like she'd known he would. Just like everyone did.
She was honest enough to admit that if he'd stayed, she would have jumped him whether he wanted her or not.
Talk about conflicted.
What she'd done after that had started out mundane enough. Washed the lunch dishes. Used the time alone to take a nap and shower. She'd whispered a prayer of thanks when she discovered a couple of packaged
She reached up into him, high on the left, and ripped out a dripping organ. The pain and the hot burn that followed was unbearable.
"Your spleen," she hummed. "A lovely, delicious little bag of blood." She smiled. "I sealed your artery. Wouldn't want you to bleed out and die too quickly. I can only claim the best parts while you're alive. Besides, I like to savor my food."
Sobbing, choking, Rick snuffled and begged. No words. No sound. Please. Please .
She pulled a length of his intestine taut, her movements careful, delicate. Baring her teeth, she tore out a chunk, and Rick felt it. God, he felt it.
"Prairie oysters are a delicacy in some places," she said, reaching down to stroke his testicles.
Rick felt the flow of his urine, hot against his skin.
With a faint slurp, she continued her meal.
----
Chapter Nine
Previous Top Next
Whatever was wrong with her, it was getting worse. Time had melted away like an ice cube in the hot sun, and Vivien couldn't find a trace of it. She had huge holes in her day, chunks of time gone, missing. Hours that she knew had passed but that she couldn't remember. That terrified her.
She stared out at the lights of the CN Tower, bright against the dark night sky, and shivered. It was late. Past midnight.
Anxiety chewed at her. She couldn't remember what had happened in the past four or five hours. She'd lost those hours, and she had an ugly suspicion that she wouldn't like them if she found them.
Dain had taken off right after lunch, had hightailed it out of the loft so fast she'd had no doubt he was running from her , from the hot and heavy come-on she was laying on him.
Choices, choices.
Sex with her, or escape.
He'd picked escape.
Which was nothing new in the life of Vivien Cairn. People tended to desert her. Her dad. Nana, who'd taken care of her when she was little and then just up and disappeared one day, never to be heard from again. Her mom, who was so emotionally distant that she might as well have been completely absent. Pat, who'd left her in anger and died.
So she dedicated her life to finding answers. Not for herself, but maybe she could offer closure to others who'd been left behind. She couldn't figure out the puzzle of her own life, but she could figure out the riddles of other people's deaths. She could offer comfort to the families whose loved ones never came back.
Sighing, Vivien tried to stop the pity party. She rarely let herself get down in the dumps, but right now, she couldn't seem to stop. Her mood was probably triggered because she was terrified of her memory lapses. And by the events of the day, the losses, the stress.
God. Why was she thinking about all this now? Tonight?
Because of Dain. Because of the foreign emotions he roused in her. Because the fact that he had fled her less-than-subtle advances was humiliating, and the fact that she was so out of control that she'd pushed him to leave, doubly so.
Her cheeks actually heated with embarrassment as she recalled how, with a quick rundown of where the TV remote was stored, a password for the computer in the kitchen, and finally, a stern admonition that she stay put and keep the doors and windows locked, he'd left with an alacrity just shy of the speed of light, muttering some comments about wards and spells and being safe inside the penthouse.
So he had left. Just like she'd known he would. Just like everyone did.
She was honest enough to admit that if he'd stayed, she would have jumped him whether he wanted her or not.
Talk about conflicted.
What she'd done after that had started out mundane enough. Washed the lunch dishes. Used the time alone to take a nap and shower. She'd whispered a prayer of thanks when she discovered a couple of packaged
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