I feel like I just got run over by a dump truck. An evil dump truck that ran over me, backed up, and did it again.
Once the pain becomes more bearable, I take quick stock of myself. Despite the aches, all my bits and pieces seem to be intact.
Reaching up, I touch my neck. My fingers searching for and failing to find where I was bit.
I healed. Just like I do after the sacraments.
Good.
Dropping my arm, I glance to the window again. Trying to gauge the time.
It must be before seven. That gives me approximately nine hours. Eight, if he has the power to move around before the sun fully sets.
Knowing time is on my side, I give myself a few more seconds to rest. After the night I had, and the lack of sleep, Lord knows I need it.
I’m surprised I’m still alive, to be honest. And not because I spent all night dealing with vampires.
I’m surprised I haven’t keeled over from a heart attack.
The stress of the entire situation was nearly unbearable… My heart twinges even now with pain from racing too fast.
At least I hope it’s the stress that’s causing the pain…
When I finally push away from the wall to step out of the tub, I move one foot forward and notice a stickiness between my thighs.
Cringing, I stop and consider ignoring it, but the thought of running around all day covered in old sweat turns my stomach.
Who knows when I’ll get another a chance to get clean?
I’ve never been through one of the rescue missions the Order has done for a cursed woman. I’ve heard of them, yes, but never actually been through one myself. So I don’t know what it all entails.
What I do know is that they tend to relocate the women in danger to other continents. Hiding them in countries on the other side of the world. This might be my last few hours in North America. Tomorrow I could wake up somewhere in Europe, Africa, or Asia.
Off the grid and totally unprepared.
Telling myself I need to give Isaac time to get here anyway, I yank the shower curtain closed and turn on the faucet.
As soon as the water comes out warm, I turn the knob for the showerhead. Still dressed, I let the shower wash over me before I peel my clothes off one by one and toss them behind me. Leaving them in a wet pile for Charity to deal with later.
Charity… I’ll need to check on her…
Before I leave, I might need to go back to the dumpster and get her.
Closing my eyes, I shove my face into the pulsing stream, letting the water strip the night’s filth away.
Flashes of what happened spark behind my closed lids.
Father Dominic looming over me with a wicked blade held in his hand.
Nikolaos standing in my living room.
The blank expression on Charity’s face.
Ambrose’s red eyes.
Blindly grabbing a bottle of body wash, I squirt a big glob into my palm and start scrubbing my body.
I rub my hands along my shoulders, down my arms, and over my breasts. I swirl the soap into my stomach, my legs, and hips.
The moment I touch myself between my thighs though, my body violently reacts.
The monster’s face sears into my vision, and hot, needy desire surges through my veins.
Knees weakening, I slap both of my hands against the slippery tile to keep from falling over. No longer touching myself, I wait for the fiery liquid ache to fade away.
But it lingers, like a strong echo.
An echo of what I felt when our gazes first met.
After seeing his face once… I’m forever tainted.
Panting into the steam of the shower, I try to redirect my thoughts away from him. Pulling up images of everything I find awful and distasteful.
Spiders spinning webs around squirming bugs.
Snakes bulging as they swallow prey whole.
But nothing works.
My brain keeps going back to that moment.
Back to the sheer power of his presence and beauty.
A beauty that even now makes me want to scream.
Nails clawing at the tile, I hear his voice in my head. I feel the force of his longing.
Let me in.
The desperation… Oh God, the desperation.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
It’s the desperation one must feel when they know they’re dying and clinging to their last breath.
Does he want me that bad? Does he want me so bad he’s dying because of it?
He’s not dying, I quickly remind myself.
He’s already dead. He’s just trying to tempt me.
Tempt me like the snake in the Garden of Eden.
I will not be Eve, dammit. I can’t. I refuse.
“Our Father, who art in heaven,” bursts out of my mouth as I launch into the first prayer that comes to my mind.
A prayer so ingrained in me, I can say it my sleep.
When I reach the end, I jump into the prayer of protection.