ignorant beast." She hissed, putting her mouth to his ear, filling it with heat and spit. "Go to bed. There's no dinner for you tonight."
Wayne took in a breath, drowning in his shame. Shame for his lies, his failures, his growing erection. More than anything, shame for his sinful abiding rage. He thought longingly of his office, his files, the work he could bury himself in. He should leave, walk out the door, and never come back.
He should run...
"I said get up." she ordered, her voice shrill, feral.
He stood, which put him eye-to-eye with the dark-haired woman whose brilliant, burning gaze poured into his worthless soul like boiling tar, whose mouth frothed with fury—and whose hand now curled, knuckles white, around a steak knife.
She put the knife to his chin and prodded; blood trickled down his neck. "Did that feel good, lover?"
He did what she expected—what he'd always done—and nodded obediently, his mouth slack, his eyes wide and dry.
She dropped the knife in disgust. "Go upstairs, you piece of filth. I know what you like, what you want, and I'm happy to oblige. You know what to do. Wait for me."
He lowered his gaze, placed his napkin on the table, and walked out of the room, his impotent rage no match for the depravity that ruled his rotting soul.
He was an evil man, the devil's own tool.
Grover went up to the bedroom, removed his clothes, dropped to his knees, and said the same prayer he'd intoned for years, tonight more desperately than ever, his need grown terrifyingly critical as if his brain were fissured, threatening to fragment into a million jagged, violent pieces.
Any time now.
Any moment.
His mind a fog of pain and blinding fear, a blizzard of despair, he prayed again and again...
"Dear God, I beg you to make me strong. Give me peace. And, please, please stop me from killing my wife."
* * *
Addy stooped, picked up an empty cola can, and walked to the back of the house to put it in the garbage bin. Lord, people were messy. Most days, she accepted litter pickup as part of the job, but since Beauty's call her nerves were so fierce and jangled every task seemed like a mile-long broad jump.
One part of her longed to see her friend again, another part dreaded it. Her being here would raise the dead, force an unwanted trip down mortuary lane. But damn that "big bad wolf" comment of hers. Irritated and confused, Addy took a deep breath, looked up at the bright sky, and reminded herself calmly how Beauty always did have a flair for the dramatic, and she shouldn't put too much store in it. She'd get to the bottom of things soon enough when Beauty got here. Until then, the smart thing to do was forget about it and go to work.
She spotted another can as Toby, coming out of the office, spotted her.
"Hey, pretty lady, I was looking for you." He gave the cola can in her hand a broad disapproving look. "Weren't you made for better things than picking up garbage?"
She straightened. "That's what I keep telling myself, but our litter-challenged guests don't see it that way." She managed a smile. Her troubles weren't Toby's, and she didn't intend them to be. "How are you doing with the books?" She grimaced, waiting for his answer. He was probably hating every minute he spent with them and was past ready to dump them back on her.
"I'm doing good. Pretty much got them whipped into shape." He rubbed at his chin, gave her a quizzical look. "I'm thinking you and I should get ourselves a computer."
"A computer? You and I?" she echoed.
Toby laughed. "I didn't ask you to marry me, sweetums, just spring for a box and some accounting software."
"Now what would I do with a computer?" Even the idea of a computer gave her hives. All those telephone-book-sized manuals. Ugh.
"You? Nothing. Me? I'll make the baby dance."
"And after you've gone?"
He tugged his earlobe and looked oddly nervous. "Well, now that's it, isn't it? I was thinking I'd stay on, kind of permanent, part-time. Help out around here." His gaze
Wayne took in a breath, drowning in his shame. Shame for his lies, his failures, his growing erection. More than anything, shame for his sinful abiding rage. He thought longingly of his office, his files, the work he could bury himself in. He should leave, walk out the door, and never come back.
He should run...
"I said get up." she ordered, her voice shrill, feral.
He stood, which put him eye-to-eye with the dark-haired woman whose brilliant, burning gaze poured into his worthless soul like boiling tar, whose mouth frothed with fury—and whose hand now curled, knuckles white, around a steak knife.
She put the knife to his chin and prodded; blood trickled down his neck. "Did that feel good, lover?"
He did what she expected—what he'd always done—and nodded obediently, his mouth slack, his eyes wide and dry.
She dropped the knife in disgust. "Go upstairs, you piece of filth. I know what you like, what you want, and I'm happy to oblige. You know what to do. Wait for me."
He lowered his gaze, placed his napkin on the table, and walked out of the room, his impotent rage no match for the depravity that ruled his rotting soul.
He was an evil man, the devil's own tool.
Grover went up to the bedroom, removed his clothes, dropped to his knees, and said the same prayer he'd intoned for years, tonight more desperately than ever, his need grown terrifyingly critical as if his brain were fissured, threatening to fragment into a million jagged, violent pieces.
Any time now.
Any moment.
His mind a fog of pain and blinding fear, a blizzard of despair, he prayed again and again...
"Dear God, I beg you to make me strong. Give me peace. And, please, please stop me from killing my wife."
* * *
Addy stooped, picked up an empty cola can, and walked to the back of the house to put it in the garbage bin. Lord, people were messy. Most days, she accepted litter pickup as part of the job, but since Beauty's call her nerves were so fierce and jangled every task seemed like a mile-long broad jump.
One part of her longed to see her friend again, another part dreaded it. Her being here would raise the dead, force an unwanted trip down mortuary lane. But damn that "big bad wolf" comment of hers. Irritated and confused, Addy took a deep breath, looked up at the bright sky, and reminded herself calmly how Beauty always did have a flair for the dramatic, and she shouldn't put too much store in it. She'd get to the bottom of things soon enough when Beauty got here. Until then, the smart thing to do was forget about it and go to work.
She spotted another can as Toby, coming out of the office, spotted her.
"Hey, pretty lady, I was looking for you." He gave the cola can in her hand a broad disapproving look. "Weren't you made for better things than picking up garbage?"
She straightened. "That's what I keep telling myself, but our litter-challenged guests don't see it that way." She managed a smile. Her troubles weren't Toby's, and she didn't intend them to be. "How are you doing with the books?" She grimaced, waiting for his answer. He was probably hating every minute he spent with them and was past ready to dump them back on her.
"I'm doing good. Pretty much got them whipped into shape." He rubbed at his chin, gave her a quizzical look. "I'm thinking you and I should get ourselves a computer."
"A computer? You and I?" she echoed.
Toby laughed. "I didn't ask you to marry me, sweetums, just spring for a box and some accounting software."
"Now what would I do with a computer?" Even the idea of a computer gave her hives. All those telephone-book-sized manuals. Ugh.
"You? Nothing. Me? I'll make the baby dance."
"And after you've gone?"
He tugged his earlobe and looked oddly nervous. "Well, now that's it, isn't it? I was thinking I'd stay on, kind of permanent, part-time. Help out around here." His gaze
Similar Books
