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Guilty Pleasures :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 107 из 205The nails scratched along his arm, leaving faint reddish tracks behind.
Phillip shivered beside me, his arm tightening around my waist. Was this his idea of fun? I hoped not.
A tall, black woman rose from the couch. Her rather plentiful breasts threatened to squeeze out of a black wire bra. A crimson skirt with more holes than cloth hung from the bra and moved as she walked, giving glimpses of dark flesh. I was betting she was naked under the skirt.
There were pinkish scars on one wrist and her neck. A baby junkie, new, almost fresh. She stalked around us, like we were for sale and she wanted to get a good look. Her hand brushed my back, and I stood away from Phillip, facing the woman.
“That scar on your back; what is it? It isn't vampire bites.” Her voice was low for a woman, an alto tenor maybe.
“A sharp piece of wood was slammed into my back by a human servant.” I didn't add that the sharp piece of wood had been one of the stakes I brought with me, or that I had killed the human servant later that same night.
“My name's Rochelle,” she said.
“Anita.”
The happy homemaker stepped up next to me, hand stroking over my arm. I stepped away from her, her fingers sliding over my skin. Her nails left little red lines on my arm. I resisted the urge to rub them. I was a tough-as-nails vampire slayer; scratches didn't bother me. The look in the woman's eyes did. She looked like she wondered what flavor I was and how long I'd last. I had never been looked at that way by another woman. I didn't like it much.
“I'm Madge. That's my husband Harvey,” she said, pointing to Mr. Leather, who had moved to stand beside Rochelle. “Welcome to our home. Phillip has told us so much about you, Anita.”
Harvey tried to come up behind me, but I stepped back towards the couch, so I could face him. They were trying to circle like sharks. Phillip was staring at me, hard. Right; I was supposed to be enjoying myself, not acting like they all had communicable diseases.
Which was the lesser evil? A sixty-four-thousand-dollar question if ever I heard one. Madge licked her lips, slowly, suggestively. Her eyes said she was thinking naughty things about me, and her. No way. Rochelle swished her skirt, exposing far too much thigh. I had been right. She was naked under the skirt. I'd die first.
That left Harvey. His small, blunt-fingered hands were playing with the leather-and-metal studding of the little kilt he wore. Fingers rubbing over and over the leather. Shit.
I flashed him my best professional smile, not seductive, but it was better than a frown.
Phillip shivered beside me, his arm tightening around my waist. Was this his idea of fun? I hoped not.
A tall, black woman rose from the couch. Her rather plentiful breasts threatened to squeeze out of a black wire bra. A crimson skirt with more holes than cloth hung from the bra and moved as she walked, giving glimpses of dark flesh. I was betting she was naked under the skirt.
There were pinkish scars on one wrist and her neck. A baby junkie, new, almost fresh. She stalked around us, like we were for sale and she wanted to get a good look. Her hand brushed my back, and I stood away from Phillip, facing the woman.
“That scar on your back; what is it? It isn't vampire bites.” Her voice was low for a woman, an alto tenor maybe.
“A sharp piece of wood was slammed into my back by a human servant.” I didn't add that the sharp piece of wood had been one of the stakes I brought with me, or that I had killed the human servant later that same night.
“My name's Rochelle,” she said.
“Anita.”
The happy homemaker stepped up next to me, hand stroking over my arm. I stepped away from her, her fingers sliding over my skin. Her nails left little red lines on my arm. I resisted the urge to rub them. I was a tough-as-nails vampire slayer; scratches didn't bother me. The look in the woman's eyes did. She looked like she wondered what flavor I was and how long I'd last. I had never been looked at that way by another woman. I didn't like it much.
“I'm Madge. That's my husband Harvey,” she said, pointing to Mr. Leather, who had moved to stand beside Rochelle. “Welcome to our home. Phillip has told us so much about you, Anita.”
Harvey tried to come up behind me, but I stepped back towards the couch, so I could face him. They were trying to circle like sharks. Phillip was staring at me, hard. Right; I was supposed to be enjoying myself, not acting like they all had communicable diseases.
Which was the lesser evil? A sixty-four-thousand-dollar question if ever I heard one. Madge licked her lips, slowly, suggestively. Her eyes said she was thinking naughty things about me, and her. No way. Rochelle swished her skirt, exposing far too much thigh. I had been right. She was naked under the skirt. I'd die first.
That left Harvey. His small, blunt-fingered hands were playing with the leather-and-metal studding of the little kilt he wore. Fingers rubbing over and over the leather. Shit.
I flashed him my best professional smile, not seductive, but it was better than a frown.