Solitude Creek (Kathryn Dance 4)

Sort of like the people last night.

"Oh..." She stiffened.

He backed off at that. There was a balance between his pleasure and her pain. Tricky. He didn't really need her to cry at the moment. He had all he needed.

"Again, if you're just joining us..."

"Oh, yeah," Calista whispered and it wasn't an act, he could tell. She was gone, lost in the moment.

His left hand slid out from under the bony spine and then was twining the strawberry mane of hair in his blunt fingers, pulling her head back. Her throat--smooth for cutting. Though that wasn't on the agenda. Still, the image socketed itself into his thoughts. That helped him too.

March gauged rhythm and sped up slightly. Then a rich inhale and those luminous pearls of teeth went against his neck--many women were into the vampire thing, Calista too, apparently. A shudder and she hissed, "Yesssss"--not as an act or a prod for him to finish. It was involuntary. Genuine. He was moderately pleased.

Now, his turn. He gripped her more tightly yet. Chest and breasts, thigh and thigh, sliding unsteadily; the room was hot, the sweat abundant.

"I'm speaking to Brad Dannon, Monterey County firefighter and first on the scene at the Solitude Creek tragedy last night. Brad is credited with saving at least two victims, who were bleeding severely. Have you talked to them today, Brad?"

"Yes, ma'am. They'd lost a lot of blood but I was able to keep them going till our wonderful EMS got there. They're the true heroes. Not me."

"You're very modest, Brad. Now--"

Click.

He realized that the impressive nails of one hand had vanished from his back. She'd found the remote and shut off the TV.

No matter. With a flash of Serena's beautiful face, combined with Brad's comment, a lot of blood, he was done.

He gasped and let his full weight sag down upon her. He was thinking: It had been good. Good enough.

It would distract for a while.

Then he was aware of her squirming slightly. Her breath labored.

He thought again: compressive asphyxia.

And stayed where he was. Ten seconds passed.

Twenty. Then thirty. He could kill her by simply not moving.

"Uhm," she gasped. "Could you..."

He felt her chest heaving.

March rolled off. "Sorry. You totally tuckered me out."

Calista caught her breath. She sat up slightly and tugged the sheets across her body. Why, afterward, did women grow modest? He pulled a pillowcase off and used it as a towel, then glanced casually at his nails. No blood. He was disappointed.

She turned back to him, faintly smiling, and put her head on the pillow.

March stretched. As always, moments like this, just after, he remained silent, since you could never trust yourself, even someone as controlled as he was. He'd learned this.

She, however, spoke. "Andy?"

He preferred this nickname. "Antioch" drew attention.

"Yes?"

"That was terrible, what happened."