The Killing Dance - Laurell K. Hamilton [164]
I bit his lip. I bit him until he pulled back, the flesh straining between us. Blood poured from his mouth to mine. I let go and spit blood into his face. He was close enough that it splattered in a red rain.
He laughed, wiping his fingers on the bloody lip, putting them in his mouth, sucking the blood off of them.
“Do you know how I became a wereleopard?” he asked.
I looked at him.
He slapped me lightly, casually. Starbursts exploded across my vision. “Answer me, Anita.”
When I could focus, I asked, “What was the question?”
“Do you know how I became a wereleopard?”
I didn’t want to play this game. I didn’t want to participate in Gabriel’s idea of pillow talk, but I didn’t want to be hit again, either. It wouldn’t take much for him to knock me unconscious. If I ever woke up again, I would be in worse shape than I was now. Hard to believe, but true.
“No,” I said.
“I’ve always liked pain, even when I was human. I met Elizabeth. She was a wereleopard. We fucked, but I wanted her to change while we did it. She said she was afraid she’d kill me.” He leaned over me. Blood dripped from his lip in slow, heavy drops.
I blinked, turning my face, trying to keep the blood out of my eyes.
“I almost died.”
I had turned my head completely to the side, while his blood dropped on the side of my face. “Was the sex worth it?”
He leaned down and began to lick the blood off my face. “Best sex I ever had.”
A scream started in my throat. I swallowed it, and it hurt going down. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be.
A man’s voice said, “Lie on top of her like you’re going to do for the shot, and let’s get some light readings.”
I realized that there was a crew here. A director, a cameraman, a dozen people scurrying around, not helping me.
Gabriel drew a knife out of his high, black boot. The hilt was black, but the blade had a high silver sheen. I watched that knife, couldn’t help myself. I’d been scared before, but not like this. The fear burned at the back of my throat, threatened to spill out in screams. It wasn’t the sight of the blade that frightened me. A moment ago I’d have done anything to have him cut the ropes. Now I would have given anything for him not to cut the ropes.
Gabriel put his hand on my stomach and slid one knee between my tied legs. There wasn’t a lot of give. I was grateful. He twisted his upper body and reached downward with the knife. I knew what he was going to do before I felt the ropes give at my ankles. He cut my feet loose and collapsed his lower body against me at almost the same time. No time to struggle, no time to take advantage. He’d done this before.
He wiggled his hips against me, spreading my legs wide enough that I could feel him against me through the jeans. I didn’t scream, I whimpered and hated it. My face was pressed into his naked chest just above his pierced nipple. His chest hair was coarse, scratchy against my cheek. His body covered me almost completely. They couldn’t have seen much more than my hands and my legs from the camera.
I had a very strange idea. “You’re too tall,” I said.
Gabriel had to raise up a little to look down at my face. “What?”
“The camera will never see anything but your backside. You’re too tall.”
He crawled backwards, raising himself in a little push-up position. He looked thoughtful. He turned around without getting off of me. “Frank, can you see her at all?”
“Nope.”
“Shit,” Gabriel said. He stared down at me, then smiled. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” He slid off me.
With my feet free, I could sit up. My hands were still above my head, but I could huddle against the headboard. It was an immense improvement.
Gabriel, Raina, and two men in scruffy clothes were talking in a huddled group. I caught snatches of the conversation. “Maybe if we hang her from the ceiling?” “We’ll have to change the room setup for that.”
I had bought some time, but time for what? There was