Sarael's Reading by Jory Strong

Author:Jory Strong [Strong, Jory]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-02-13T07:14:58+00:00

Sarael eluded him for three days. But on the third night, he found her. Satisfaction moved through Matteo, anticipation, as he stopped in front of her door, sensing her presence behind it. Sensing her awareness of him. Her fear. He let the moments pass, let the fear build in her—retribution for what she’d put him through. A warning for the future.

She was weakened now, her will not nearly as strong. He knew he could command that she open the door, but he preferred to enter the room himself. Gaining the key from the clerk had been a simple matter—the ease of it only increasing his anger. Sarael shivered, knowing the moment he was standing in front of the hotel door, dark and menacing, his arrival signaling the end of her freedom, and yet she very nearly cried in relief at his presence.

She’d been utterly alone, out in a world she’d never experienced before. One that had been made so much more dangerous by Matteo’s blood.

Rather than getting weaker, its influence had grown stronger, making it difficult for her to leave the hotel room without being accosted by men. Most of them more frightening than any of those who came to the carnival looking for easy prey. More frightening than the face that used to haunt her dreams nightly as a small child, causing her to wake in a panic, tangled in sheets that reminded her of being tied and helpless. She was afraid to go to sleep for fear the seedy hotel manager would sell access to her room and turn the other way as she was raped. And each time she did yield to exhaustion, she was haunted by dreams.

Blood dreams at first, then sexual ones. So intense that she’d wake abruptly and find herself feverish, needy. Her body coated with sweat, her hands between her legs or on her breasts.

64

Sarael’s Reading

She’d masturbated, trying to keep the memory of Matteo’s touch from her mind as she’d plunged her fingers in and out of her slit, striking at her clit repeatedly, tweaking and tugging at her nipples. But the only way she’d found any relief was to let thoughts of him fill her, to relive those moments when his body had been on hers, his cock sheathed in her channel. It had barely been enough. And now he had found her. Despite knowing he was there, she startled when the key slid into the lock, and remained motionless, watching—fascinated horror mingled with weary relief—as the knob slowly turned and the door swung open.

Matteo moved into the room and closed the door behind him. The fear that she was like her mother—and the anger that had accompanied it—had grown with each hour she’d eluded him. But his heart lurched at the sight of her, at the fatigue and vulnerability he saw in her face, at the way her body hunched in defeat and defenselessness as she sat on the bed, her knees drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs.

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