He was an alpha male, savage by nature, at the top rung of the proverbial food chain. His basic nature prodded him toward pursuit, domination, and slaughter. At least, on occasion.
When it was well deserved.
The others crowded closer. He felt their palpitating fascination. Slanting his gaze to the side, he saw one woman lick her lips and stroke her own nipples.
His cock hardened.
His pulse thrummed.
Filling his mouth with the metallic blood, he sat up and let Georgie, now a lifeless entity, drop limply to the floor.
He turned to the woman—her name escaped him—and saw her big breasts were heaving, her eyes slumberous with sexual excitement. Many would see her as a perverted soul, defective in her desires.
Fabian relished her reaction.
He grabbed her wrist and hauled her in close, then closed his mouth over hers and let her take Georgie’s blood directly from him. It was the rarest of gifts he bestowed on her, and she didn’t disappoint him.
She moaned, choked, and then her tongue slicked over his, over his lips and chin. He ripped her shirt away and squeezed her nipples, twisted. Crying out, she bit his chin, launching into her own primal derangement.
Fabian liked it that everyone watched them, that he would be the center of attention as befitted his importance.
With Georgie no longer a viable member, he had an audience of six, which was perhaps one too many.
He shoved his hand beneath the woman’s skirt and fingered her roughly through her panties. She panted, fell back with her legs spread.
A dangerous offering to a man in the middle of a bloody fete.
Fabian smiled and bent to her hot, fleshy thigh. He licked, nuzzled, testing the give of her soft body, aware of the warmth from her own flowing blood just beneath her smooth, silky skin.
He looked up at two other young men, both of them wide-eyed with fascination, watchful with expectation. As he recalled, one was an accountant, the other a cashier for the local grocery.
They were both easily led. “Hold her.”
At his order, the woman jerked with new awareness of her precarious position. Now panicked, she tried to fight, but oh, it was far too late for that.
His minions were quite willing to do as he bid them, if for no other reason than a macabre curiosity as to his intent.
One of the lads held her arms against her furious struggles; the other caught her free leg and pinned it back painfully so she couldn’t kick Fabian.
If she did, he’d kill her for certain. In fact, her outcome was yet undecided. But he inclined toward leniency; after all, they needed a new source of nourishment and Georgie was dead.
With her plump proportions she’d likely suffer them for a week or more, especially if they showed due moderation.
Salty tears, blackened with makeup, tracked her cheeks, mixing with the blood on her mouth and chin. She sobbed and pleaded to no avail.
Beside her, the scent of Georgie’s body, his blood and his violent death, spurred on their passion.
“Silence her,” Fabian said, and someone cupped a hard hand over her mouth, muffling her entreaties for a mercy that none of them possessed.
Hooking his fingers in her panties, Fabian pulled them to the side, exposing the soft white groin, the thin skin and most fragile flesh. He could see the delicate blue veins, could almost feel the life flowing through her.
His heart threatened to erupt with the grisly provocation of it.
Her snuffling sounds of terror blurred in Fabian’s mind, receding until all he could envision was the steady pumping of her blood through her veins. Slowly, relishing the moment, he bent and sank his teeth into her groin.
He could smell her pungent, aroused sex, and taste the piquancy of her luxuriant fear. The sensual, potent medley put him into an anesthetized languor.
She screamed in agony, but the sound only incited them all.
She wouldn’t die, Fabian decided; he wouldn’t allow her that easy release. Her exquisite taste would not be squandered in a loss of control.
Her wound would heal, and she’d be anointed in the ritual of serving others.
Seeing her plight would surely inspire the rest of his minions to greater understanding.
She tasted even better than Georgie had, but Fabian no longer fed from hunger. No, Georgie had taken care of that.
He fed now to show his superiority.
He fed from sheer pleasure.
He fed as a show of dominance.
And then, like any good master, he stepped aside and let the others take a turn.
He didn’t mind sharing. And besides, he had to leave for work soon. Today, he would arrive at the shop more fulfilled than he’d been in ages.
Maybe, with the added drug of fresh blood, he’d be able to surmise how he knew the skinny woman he’d seen with the cops. He’d been too far away to see her clearly. All he’d noted with certainty was her weakness, her vulnerability. Yet when he’d looked at her, despite her pathetic flaws, he’d felt a strong familiarity.
Somehow they were acquainted. But how?
He would figure it out, Fabian decided as he stood back and watched the others descend on the woman.
She made a most delectable meal.
But somehow he knew, if he captured that skinny woman and tasted her, she would be the most sublime.
Anticipation gnawed on his serenity; he could hardly wait.
Chapter 4
Gaby dressed without hurry, distracted by the mayhem of her thoughts. She wasn’t sure where to look for the girl, but staying in Luther’s home wouldn’t elucidate things. She needed to be doing . . . something. Anything.
Hanging around, waiting for Luther to return, made her feel doubly dependent and pathetic.
She couldn’t abide either.
She locked away her manuscript for safekeeping, hoping that by the time she needed to finish it, the child would have an ending that ensured safety and security.
Because she wasn’t certain where the bus route might be in Luther’s neighborhood, she bundled up in a dark hooded sweatshirt. She might be walking for a while, not that she minded. Strolling around the area would help her familiarize herself with the new surroundings. She needed to find a good place nearby to stow her beat-up car. She needed to learn the various routes and where they led.
After clipping a digital audio player to her waistband and putting headphones in her ears, Gaby ventured out. Luther had bought her the music player, and she enjoyed it more than she’d thought possible. Even the music he’d initially chosen for her, edgy and loud with a hard thumping beat that she felt inside herself, was perfect for her.
In some ways, he knew her well.
In other ways, he didn’t know her at all.
The gray sky and brisk wind added a nasty chill to the air, but Gaby paid no heed as she concentrated on the side streets and main intersections, learning the area and committing it to memory.
After several miles of walking, she found a bus stop and joined others huddling under a lighted metal enclosure that would protect them from the rain.
Recognizing the difference between the squalor of the areas she usually frequented and Luther’s middle-class comfort, Gaby stuffed her knotted hands into her sweatshirt pockets.
Truth be told, she felt more comfortable near the dregs of society, in the projects and government housing units. There, surrounded by crime and immorality, around people driven by indifference and desperation, she felt at home.
Mort, her old landlord and now a friend, had kept his building clean and semi-secure, especially since the comic book store he owned was attached to the living quarters. But at night, she could hear the drunken arguments, the domestic abuse, the drive-by shootings and gang disruptions.