Eternal: More Love Stories With Bite (20 page)

His eyelids fluttered closed and a new terror swept through her.
The
sound
of his
labored breathing eased it some: Corey wasn't dead—not yet, anyway. But they didn't have long until he was.

There was nothing she could do. Nothing. She had no tools, none of the strength required to get free. Just her unbound legs and her ungagged mouth. So unless kicking and biting
her
way free were an option, she was screwed. Of course, when the monster returned and undid her cuffs, fighting wasn't out of
the
realm of possibility. But she was cold, and the coldness had weakened her so much. No, feet and teeth weren't going to get her out of this. What she needed was to get out of these cuffs and somehow get Corey to safety. She slipped
her
hand from his and twisted around to see
if
she'd missed anything, anything at all
in
the room that might help her. The cut on her wrist burned, so she eased up on it and swept the dark room with her eyes, finding nothing at all but Corey and the pole she was attached to.

Then an idea sparked in her mind.

Tarrah pulled hard on her left arm, until the handcuff dug sharply into the small cut on her wrist. She bit her bottom lip against the pain, trying hard to keep her screams contained within her. The metal tore her skin open further and blood oozed from the wound until her hand and wrist were slick. Slick enough to act as a lubricant. She had to move quickly, or else the blood would dry and she'd have to open the cut again:

She pulled hard, a pained cry escaping her throat, but her action proved fruitful. Blood poured from her wound. Plenty enough to make her wrist slippery. Then she brought her fingers together and pulled again. Her hand slipped free.

She couldn't look at it, couldn't stand to see the mangled gore that was her wrist. Her wound throbbed painfully, but Tarrah counted her blessings. It would have hurt a lot more if she hadn't been seminumbed by the cold. The cuff was still attached to her right hand, but it didn't matter. She was free.

She crawled over to Corey and checked his pulse. He was still alive, but fading fast. All she had to do now was locate the door and hope to hell the stupid thing wasn't locked.

The door swung open, and this time, a blinding light shone from within. The beast's silhouette filled its frame. "Well, well. What do we have here? Resourceful little thing, aren't you?"

She froze.
Her mind
went completely blank—she had
no
idea
what to do
or
how
to stop what
had happened
to Corey from happening to
her.

It moved closer, clucking its tongue. It sounded vaguely amused. "What did you do? Wriggle yourself
free like some
kind of
animal?
Chew
off
your arm like a trapped coyote, perhaps?"

Tarrah shrank
back,
but the
thing
stretched its
hand
forward
and
examined
her wrist. It shook its
head
in disap
proval. "All
that wasted blood. A
shame."

The creature reached
for
her
then,
as
if
to pick her up and carry her
off
to
who
knows where, and Tarrah found her fight once more, despite the cold's
slowing
effect on her
muscles.
She shoved the
beast
as
hard as she
could, and once
it
had stumbled
a
few feet from her, she kicked, aiming for the most unpleasant target
she
could imagine. With a growl, it grabbed
her
—despite the
pain,
despite her struggles—and lifted
her
over
its shoulder,
shushing her like a
child.
"There now. Calm yourself. Soon it'll
all
be over and you'll
join your
boyfriend there
in
eternity."

A
shock
of
cold
surprise bolted
through her
and she
whipped her
eyes to Corey. Corey,
who
lay too still. Corey, whose eyes
stared blankly
open and unseeing. Her tears let
loose
and she screamed, pounding on the man's
back
with balled-up, bloody fists. "He's
not
dead! He's alive! Corey's
alive!"

But even as she screamed
the
words, she knew them to
be untrue.
Corey, sweet Corey, the boy
she'd
loved for so long, the boy who'd drawn Band-Aids all over
her
cast when she broke her arm, the boy who brought her roses before every date and lilies on every anniversary.

He
was dead.

And the monster carrying her had killed him.

She clawed at its neck, and as she wriggled from its grasp, she bit into its forearm. The beast howled and gripped her tighter, dragging her from
the
dark cellar
where
Corey lay into the bright room next to it.
It
slammed her onto what looked and felt like a hospital gurney, knocking the wind from her lungs and the voice from her throat, and strapped her arms down tight. In the bright white of the room—white walls, white sheets—the blood on her wrist seemed almost too red, too real. The creature fastened a thick strap across her chest. There was no moving now, no getting away. Not if that
thing
had
anything to say about it.

Tarrah looked around quickly, trying to
think
of a way out. The room was
small,
and more like a hospital room than a monster's den. Medical-grade lights stood in the corners. Beside the gurney was
a
silver tray, topped with several surgical instruments.
The
sight of their surfaces gleaming in the light sent her heart racing. She pulled at her straps, but couldn't break free. The leather held tough.

Behind her, somewhere beyond where she could turn her head, the creature was moving about, as
if
preparing some horrible ritual—maybe the same ritual it had used on Corey. It grumbled and then another voice broke
in,
this one female. "Everything alright?"

"Fine. I'm fine. This one's just a bit
of
a fighter, that's all. Help me get her into the machine, will you?"

There was a grating sound, like metal scraping against tile, and then it sounded like wheels were rolling across the floor.
Tarrah's
heart jumped
into
her throat
when
the monster brought another Velcro strap across her forehead. She screamed and tried to bite the monster again, but the female
thing
helping out held
her
head still, and the beast strapped her
in
tight. Tarrah couldn't move. She couldn't fight. All she could do was let her tears flow and pray that it would be over fast.

The female spoke again. "Did the cold help to slow them down? Damn things move so
fast."

"Definitely. We'll use this method again.
Just
have
to
be careful not to slow their blood too much or we'll kill them off before we get what we need."

"Great. I'm going down the hall to give Fredrickson the news. Just shout
if
you need me."

The door clicked closed and the monster loomed over her, adjusting a strange, plastic dome-like device, so that it was
around
her head. "Please," she begged, hating that she had to beg something of such a horrible being. "Please let me go.
I
won't, tell anyone about Corey,
I
promise. Just let me go."

A brief flicker of compassion crossed the beast's eyes.
"I
wish I could. But you don't understand. Your kind never does. We've been living
in
secrecy for so long. We
need
your blood. This is the
only
way. I'm sorry."