Crave by Karen E. Taylor Page B

that was overcoming me with each moment.”
    Larry got up from the couch so quickly that I jumped, startled. I heard Mitch’s soft intake of breath and watched Larry cross the room, pull aside the drapes and look out into the city night. He remained facing the window as he continued to tell his story. “So I screwed her, right there in the subway tunnel. Over and over again, I pounded into her. She enjoyed it at first, I think, she made all the right noises, but when I wouldn’t stop—I couldn’t stop, there was no satisfaction, no climax, just an uncontrollable hunger, an uncontrollable lust—she tried to push me away from her. She was whimpering softly and crying, and she tried to push me away from her.” The pitch of Larry’s voice rose, the tone was indignant, arrogant. “I think I laughed then, knowing that she was mine, however I wanted to use her. ‘Can’t take it, can you, bitch?’ I said to her as I pulled her tightly to me again, still driving into her. And then,” Larry stopped for a long second and a low-pitched growling noise emerged from his throat. A noise so inhuman, yet so in tune with how I felt, the hair on my arms began to rise.
    â€œAnd then, my mouth found her neck.”
    He had still been holding the empty wineglass in his hands throughout the story. Now he brought his palms together, crushing the crystal, the tinkling of the shards was loud and compelling. More compelling was his deep intake of breath and the odor of blood that filled the room. I could remember the scent and even the taste of Larry’s blood, but it seemed different now, tinged with an unfamiliar flavor. And I knew I was scenting, tasting the blood of the nameless woman in the subway, as easily as if the mouth on her neck was my own.
    â€œAnd when her blood poured into my mouth, it was like every vein in my body exploded. I could feel the blood flowing through me, could tell that it was strengthening my body, my muscles, my bones. It was like a drug. No, it is a drug; I’d never been so high in my entire life. Never felt so alive or so vital. And the whole time that I sucked on her, I could taste her fear and her pain, feel her feeble attempts to pull away from me, from my mouth and my dick still thrust deep within her. And that only enhanced my enjoyment of the blood. The element of danger, the black chilled air of the tunnel, even her unwilling surrender spurred me on to continue to drink and drink and drink.”
    Larry pulled in a long breath. “I drained her completely, still screwing her, drawing out her life. She was dead even before I had finished. And after I was through with her, I tossed her body onto the tracks. When they found her, she’d be just another homeless lush, passed out drunk and run over by a train. Any traces of me would be wiped out with the crushing of her body under the train.”
    There was a long, unbroken silence.
    Somewhere outside this office the band played and people danced and laughed and drank; somewhere outside these doors people led normal lives, unaffected by dark hungers and thirsts and the desire for death. I realized then that the newly decorated office was a mockery and a sham. It made no difference. It was still Max’s office, would always be. And the three creatures who occupied the room were just a continuation of his dark legacy.
    I wanted to say something, wanted to cry out in protest, wanted to throw myself into Mitch’s arms and take comfort there. But there was no comfort to be had. Larry was my creation, my child. And I was fully a part of the atrocities he had committed. I closed my eyes tightly against the tears that were forming and sat straight and rigid on the sofa.
    When the voice spoke again, I wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t mine. “And then I realized that this was what life truly is. It isn’t the deceptive beauty of the night or the enhanced senses, it isn’t the