JК
Guilty Pleasures :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 24 из 205Tightened until it was crushing me.
I tore at my sleeve. Cloth ripped. He threw me onto my back. He was crouched over me, face twisted with hunger. His lips curled back from his teeth, fangs glistening.
Someone moved onto the stage, one of the waiters. The vampire hissed at him, spittle running down his chin. There was nothing human left.
It came for me in a blinding rush of speed and hunger. I pressed the silver knife over his heart. A trickle of blood glistened down his chest. He snarled at me, fangs gnashing like a dog on the end of a chain. I screamed.
Terror had washed his power away. There was nothing left but fear. He lunged for me and drove the point of the knife into his skin. Blood began to drip over my hand and onto my blouse. His blood.
Jean-Claude was suddenly there. “Aubrey, let her go.”
The vampire growled deep and low in his throat. It was an animal sound.
My voice was high and thin with fear; I sounded like a little girl. “Get him off me, or I'll kill him!”
The vampire reared back, fangs slashing his own lips. “Get him off me!”
Jean-Claude began to speak softly in French. Even when I couldn't understand the language his voice was like velvet, soothing. Jean-Claude knelt by us, speaking softly. The vampire growled and lashed out, grabbing Jean-Claude's wrist.
He gasped, and it sounded like pain.
Should I kill him? Could I plunge the knife home before he tore out my throat? How fast was he? My mind seemed to be working incredibly fast. There was an illusion that I had all the time in the world to decide and act.
I felt the vampire's weight heavier against my legs. His voice sounded hoarse, but calm. “May I get up now?”
His face was human again, pleasant, handsome, but the illusion didn't work anymore. I had seen him unmasked, and that image would always stay with me. “Get off me, slowly.”
He smiled then, a slow confident spread of lips. He moved off me, human-slow. Jean-Claude waved him back until he stood near the curtain.
“Are you all right, ma petite?”
I stared at the bloody silver knife and shook my head. “I don't know.”
“I did not mean for this to happen.” He helped me sit up, and I let him. The room had fallen silent. The audience knew something had gone wrong. They had seen the truth behind the charming mask. There were a lot of pale, frightened faces out there.
My right sleeve hung torn where I ripped it to get the knife.
“Please, put away the knife,” Jean-Claude said.
I tore at my sleeve. Cloth ripped. He threw me onto my back. He was crouched over me, face twisted with hunger. His lips curled back from his teeth, fangs glistening.
Someone moved onto the stage, one of the waiters. The vampire hissed at him, spittle running down his chin. There was nothing human left.
It came for me in a blinding rush of speed and hunger. I pressed the silver knife over his heart. A trickle of blood glistened down his chest. He snarled at me, fangs gnashing like a dog on the end of a chain. I screamed.
Terror had washed his power away. There was nothing left but fear. He lunged for me and drove the point of the knife into his skin. Blood began to drip over my hand and onto my blouse. His blood.
Jean-Claude was suddenly there. “Aubrey, let her go.”
The vampire growled deep and low in his throat. It was an animal sound.
My voice was high and thin with fear; I sounded like a little girl. “Get him off me, or I'll kill him!”
The vampire reared back, fangs slashing his own lips. “Get him off me!”
Jean-Claude began to speak softly in French. Even when I couldn't understand the language his voice was like velvet, soothing. Jean-Claude knelt by us, speaking softly. The vampire growled and lashed out, grabbing Jean-Claude's wrist.
He gasped, and it sounded like pain.
Should I kill him? Could I plunge the knife home before he tore out my throat? How fast was he? My mind seemed to be working incredibly fast. There was an illusion that I had all the time in the world to decide and act.
I felt the vampire's weight heavier against my legs. His voice sounded hoarse, but calm. “May I get up now?”
His face was human again, pleasant, handsome, but the illusion didn't work anymore. I had seen him unmasked, and that image would always stay with me. “Get off me, slowly.”
He smiled then, a slow confident spread of lips. He moved off me, human-slow. Jean-Claude waved him back until he stood near the curtain.
“Are you all right, ma petite?”
I stared at the bloody silver knife and shook my head. “I don't know.”
“I did not mean for this to happen.” He helped me sit up, and I let him. The room had fallen silent. The audience knew something had gone wrong. They had seen the truth behind the charming mask. There were a lot of pale, frightened faces out there.
My right sleeve hung torn where I ripped it to get the knife.
“Please, put away the knife,” Jean-Claude said.