The Vampire's Prey by Vivian Murdoch

Author:Vivian Murdoch [Murdoch, Vivian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-21T16:00:00+00:00

7

Adrian

That little minx. I am going to have to watch her a lot more carefully from now on. She can loophole her way out of anything. As I head out to pick up a few things, I mull over some of what she’s revealed. It’s nowhere near all of it, but little by little, it will come out of her. I know it. I can see it in her eyes. She has that same torn look that I am haunted with every time I close my eyes. War is never pretty. And sometimes it reveals the most monstrous of people. I know she’s been hurt, but I cannot tell by whom yet. My gut tells me her adoptive family has something to do with it, but that’s not something you can just confront someone with. I need to draw her closer to me not push her away.

The air is still and quiet, a balm to my busy mind. Her taste still lingers on my tongue, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to turn around and have her again. If I am not going to allow her to pleasure herself, so she can heal, I sure as hell am not going to push her either. Before I know it, I am back in front of Evangeline's apartment. What is it I expect to find? I slip her keys from out of my pocket and open the door. I grimace as the smells hit me again. Now that she is not here, I can take my time and really get a feel for what is going on.

Looking over at the bed, I see the flogger. Dried blood coats its edges. Shuddering, I pick it up and examine it. The design is simple but effective. I have seen similar models at convents and monasteries, but not usually for personal use. A cross adorns the front and looks to be well worn. How often did she do this to herself? What could she have done that was so bad? If it truly is our night together that has her in knots, I must find some way to rectify this in her mind. Principles are one thing, but suffering needlessly is not about to happen on my watch.

Sighing, I sit down on the bed and absently run my fingers over the cross handle. Memories of my own training bombard my senses. My creator is a good man. He is fair and just; however, he is just as obsessed with honor as my little one is with penance. This will never do. I know firsthand the mental harm and anguish it can cause.

Looking around the room, I eye the cloves of garlic again. It is so specific. Why have them at all? Every time she is around me, she treats me like I am a human, and yet, she has all the accoutrements of someone afraid of vampires. Luckily for both of us, none of this kitschy stuff actually works. I make my way over to the garlic and crosses and run my fingers over them.

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