[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

through him whenever she spoke to a male. He could feel the weight and shape
of every object she picked up in passing. He knew when she had started from
the kitchens with a tray of food in her hands for him by the way it felt and
the smells rising into her nostrils.
His throat ached for another taste of her blood, the exquisite taste of her
fear and pain when he hurt her, and his member hardened at the thoughts.
Isranon obsessed on getting her back into bed with him. His mind reached for
her through a link that had grown agonizingly intense. Isranon tried to
repress his needs, to turn his thoughts away from Anksha. If he focused on her
strongly enough, he could summon her back to him with the force of his lust.
When she was with him, all he could think of was dominating her with his body,
of plunging himself inside her as soon as he could get her legs open.
"This is madness. I've never been like this before. I must get hold of
myself. I must." He released his hair, ran his fingers through it, and bent
forward until his head lay between his knees. Desire crept through his body
and left flames burning in its wake.
He writhed and his body broke out in a heavy sweat. Isranon's heart
hammered, and he began to pant as if he had been racing hard across a far
distance.
"Anksha," he called abruptly before he could stop himself. "Anksha!"
Isranon sensed her head lifting in some far distant room, felt the way she
turned in his direction. He wrestled with his need, struggling to master
himself and not force her to return. Slowly his conscious control began to
melt before the fires, and then more swiftly. His intellect and his conscience
vanished, leaving him a creature of primal needs.Sex, blood, fear, and pain 
delicious."Anksha!"
He felt her running now, through many corridors and turnings. The outer door
to his suite opened and slammed shut again. His eyes changed to the colors of
dancing blazes as he rose to face her. Anksha stood in the doorway to the
bedroom, looking at him hesitantly. Isranon crossed the room in three strides,
grabbed her arm, and threw her onto the bed.
Anksha curled up, clutching herself, her eyes wide and uncertain at this
fresh turn of violence.
Page 231
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Isranon sprang to the bed, snarling wordlessly, froth gathering around his
lips.
He ignored the way she whimpered in confusion as he shoved her down and
climbed on top of her. "I'm going to hurt you, you filthy little bitch. You
need it. You want it. Hoon knew exactly what you needed."
"No, please... I was a baby," Anksha begged. "It wasn't my fault. I was a
baby."
"Shut up." He slammed his cock inside her.
She gave a long yowl of pain and despair.
* * * *
Anksha found herself a small corner behind a huge chair in one of the
upstairs sitting rooms and curled up to cry. She wore a little lavender smock
that rubbed against her battered, tender breasts irritatingly. Her arms were
sore, chunks of fur were missing from the savagery with which he had bitten
her. Multi-colored scarves completely swathed her neck to cover the marks
Isranon had left on her.
Isranon never talked to her anymore. All of their long conversations had
ceased. He no longer played his flute for her or told her stories. The candy
dish in their room had been empty for days and he had not bothered to have it
replenished. Anksha felt as if she were being punished: the only thing he
enjoyed doing was hurting her. She felt used and unhappy, and yet when he
called she wanted nothing more than to get back to him as swiftly as possible.
The only thing that felt right and proper was to give Isranon whatever he
wanted. As much as Anksha was a creature of intellect, she was more so a
creature of instinct, and right then her instincts were overriding her
intellect in ways she could not fathom. Anksha tried to work through that
contradiction and failed.
She was so lost in her misery and confusion that she did not hear Arabella
and Squeaky creep around the sides of the chair on their hands and knees to
stare at her.
"What's eating you, tiny?" asked Arabella. The stump-bynter's fangs did not
retract like a hemovore's, and it gave her face a permanently savage
appearance, especially when she tried to smile reassuringly like she did just
Page 232
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
then.
Anksha's lips trembled. "My Isranon."
"Figures," said Squeaky, squeezing in behind the chair and sitting
cross-legged beside Anksha. Her skirt and petticoats crowded the space to
over-flowing. "That's boyfriends for ya."
Anksha's top scarf chose that moment to slip lower on her neck, revealing
two sets of fang marks.
"Boy, I'll say," Arabella observed, touching one of the marks. "You want me
to whomp on him some?"
Anksha shook her head frantically, her eyes wide, and her stomach clenching
up at the thought of Arabella getting her hands on Isranon. "No. Don't hurt my
Isranon."
"I can't see why you'd want to protect him when he's treating you this way,"
said Squeaky. "I mean, talk about abuse!"
"He doesn't mean to hurt me," Anksha said, her voice dwindling away to
nothing. "He loves me."
"I don't know what that is then, tiny," Arabella said, "but it don't look
like love to me."
A sob caught in Anksha's throat and she fled. "He does love me. He does. He
does love me." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]