They swung open the cage door, cattle prods at full power, humming with electricity. The man lazily lifted his hands in surrender. "Now, now." He said softly. His voice was like velvet. "No need. I'll do as you please." The man in the cage said, his...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Her breath came easier with the Russian gone, but something in her recoiled at the thought of spending more time alone with Samuel. She sensed something unhinged in him, and didn't like the way he lingered in her brother's home even after their business had concluded.
"Go away you little monster." The words sprung from her mouth as if they had a will of their own.
Anger flashed across his face and he wrenched up the sleeves of his sweater, higher than he had earlier. On his arms were a variety of bites, burns, and half healed knife marks. She was more surprised to see the gentle curve of a human bite on his arm than the knots of silver flesh from a wolf's bite. The bite that turned him, probably. "Do you think we all walked into this town thinking that we would have to be killers and kidnappers? You stupid, self absorbed bitch! Many of us have suffered just as much as you. Many of us more so, since you've got the silver spoon from the Russian!" he yelled at her.
His pale face had gone a bright red, and his whole body shook with rage. His hands were clenched into fists, the veins standing out in sharp relief against his scarred arms. A bitterness welled up in her, and she bared her teeth at him. "You suffered at their hands and now you're helping them." The accusation in her voice visibly stung him, but instead of backing down, he took a few steps forward, closing the gap between them.
"Who killed that girl in the cellar?" Samuel hissed, his hands raising as if he was straining to not push her back. "Why haven't you run away like the coward you are?" His voice was bitter and cruel from the years of abuse that littered his arms.
The presence in her mind roiled with the rest of her angry thoughts. It was jumping at the bit, flooding her mind with the memory of blood and raw flesh and retribution. "I haven't because I'm going to do something good. I love my brother. I'm not leaving him here to all of you." She couldn't bring herself to admit that he was likely already dead, having not seen him since the evening she tried to leave.
Something crossed Samuel's face, but it was gone before she could tell what it was. "Why do you think I'm here?" He'd gone chillingly quiet, and all at once, he seemed to compose himself. The color drained from his face as he settled his heavy breathing. The sweater sleeves slipped back down over his scars.
Without another word, he turned and strode out the front door, slamming it behind him.
—
Kiril's body moved against her own, their arms and legs tangling around one another like searching vines. His skin was frigid and left trails of frost across her flesh wherever his fingertips graced her. Great blooms of fire sprouted in her, yearning for more.
Their lips crashed together in a storm; fire, ice, and desperate passion raged around them, tearing at their clothes with greedy fingers. When they stood there bared before the world and one another, Kiril drew back to look into her eyes.
