Before She Dies Read Free

head to the side, frantically coughing and expelling the water from her mouth and lungs. “You want me,” she said. “I feel it. Let me make you feel better.”
    “I don’t want you anymore.”
    “You do!” Bitterness tangled around the words.
    Defiance still lingered in her rusty voice as her face loomed over the water’s edge. It made sense that she would be strong. She’d been raised among the carnival people, traveling demons that moved from town to town.
    This time when he shoved her head under the water, he held it there until her body stopped flaying and went limp. When all the fight had leeched from her body, he jerked her free and turned her on her side to allow the water to drain free. He checked her pulse, and when he felt that it had stopped, he panicked. “She needs to confess.”
    He tipped her head back and started mouth to mouth. After several chest compressions, she inhaled sharply and her eyes opened wide. She vomited water from her lungs.
    He ripped off her blindfold. He wanted to see her eyes. He wanted her to see his face.
    When she looked at him, recognition and shock glistened. “Christ, man, why are you doing this to me? I thought you liked me.”
    Contrition. It was the first step toward salvation.
    “Why are you doing this to me? Please.” Her voice sounded hoarse and raw.
    He leaned forward and brushed the wet hair off her face. Her skin felt cold, clammy. “What are you sorry for?”
    Vibrant blue eyes bore into him. “Whatever I did. I’m sorry. Just don’t punish me anymore.”
    Again, her gaze caught him off guard. It lured him in as it had before and made him want to forget about crusades and righteousness. He simply wanted to sink inside her warmth. As he’d dreamed of so many times, he kissed her gently on the lips and smoothed hair from her eyes. “If you don’t know what you did, then how can you be sorry?”
    Renewed panic replaced the silent pleas. “You called me a witch.”
    He’d never deny that she was a smart, clever girl. “I did.”
    She licked her lips. “You’re not the first. Other men have said I bewitched them.”
    He traced his hand over her flat belly. The idea of other men staring and leering at her troubled him. She was his and his alone. “So you admit you are a witch, a sorceress, a stealer of souls? I wouldn’t be driven to this if it weren’t for your magic.”
    Her gaze remained locked on his as she laid her hand on his. “Yes. I’m a witch and whatever else you said.”
    He tightened his fingers on her breast and squeezed. She winced but continued to smile. This one understood the powers of her body and how best to wield them. “And you repent? You swear that you are evil?”
    “Yes.”
    For a moment he laid his head between her breasts and listened to the rapid thump, thump of her heart. “Praise be.”
    “Let me go,” she said. “I won’t tell. I won’t. And I can still make you feel real good. I swear.”
    He closed his eyes. “After what I just did to you, you still want me?”
    “Yes. I want you. Just us, baby, no one else.”
    He still longed to suckle her breasts and shove inside her softness. As he lifted his eyes and prayed for strength, his gaze settled on the cracked mortar sandwiched between the logs of the cabin’s wall. He likened the cracks to his own soul. Flawed and damaged, they were still strong enough to carry the burden. With trembling fingers, he combed her hair back. She stared up at him, vulnerable, scared, and ready.
    Before he could surrender to temptation, he shoved her head under the water. She fought him, straining and twisting her body as her fists flailed. She tried to kick him with her feet, but he used his weight to render her immobile. Slowly, he counted away the seconds until her struggles lessened and she stopped fighting. Bubbles gurgled to the surface and still he held her face firmly under the water until the three-minute mark.
    This time when he released her, her body slumped to the dirty