Carnal Thirst Read Free

feathers instead of polyfiber filling. This definitely wasn't her house, which meant she definitely wasn't alone.
    She rolled onto her back, biting her lip as her sore back connected with the bed. She touched the crook of her neck and found a small, square bandage.
    It was all real. It had really happened. Had the bastard kidnapped her? Since she wasn't home, it was as good an assumption as any.
    After listening for several minutes, she decided she was alone in the room. She felt like if she hadn't been there would have been a reaction anyway when she rolled over. Still, she thought it was better to err on the side of caution, and she scanned the room as far as she could see before she finally sat up.
    To her relief, she saw that she really was alone.
    The room was devoid of furniture save for the wrought iron bed. Directly opposite it stood two windows with heavy brocaded drapes. On the wall that housed the headboard of the bed were two doors. The right bedroom wall held another door, and on the wall opposite to that was a fireplace with a built-in mantel. The fire within it was the only light in the room.
    It was an old room, evidenced by the hardwood floors and authentic plaster walls and ceiling. She had to be inside a Victorian era house, perhaps one even older.
    From the twelve foot ceiling, a bare bulb hung from a chain in the center of the room, dangling a pull cord.
    Old wiring too.
    Maggie got up and pulled the cord. Light spilled down, weak, leaving the edges of the room still dim.
    Seeing that her assessment of the room was accurate, Maggie decided to check the door closest to her.
    It wasn't locked. She wasn't certain whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. It might mean nothing threatening at all. It could mean that whoever had brought her had only done so to help her.
    On the other hand, it seemed to her that most anyone who might have found her would've taken her to a hospital. But how likely was it that her attacker would have taken her anywhere, much less patched her up?
    After several minutes of indecision, she finally decided to err once again on the side of caution. Turning away from the door, she moved as quietly as possible to the first window. When she pulled the drapes Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    back, she discovered that the window had been boarded over tighter than a nun's butt. Light squeezed through the minute cracks where putty had separated from the wood.
    Maggie squinted painfully at the bright pinpricks, her heart skipping several beats as she let the curtains fall back in place. As much as she would've liked to believe that there was an unthreatening explanation for it, it seemed that she had to accept that she'd been imprisoned in the room. Unwilling to accept that assessment when she had already tested the door and found it unlocked, she decided to check the other window. It too was boarded up.
    The unlocked door was either a trap, or the person who had left it unlocked had made certain that the rest of the building was secure. Regardless, she wasn't about to just sit and wait for whoever had taken her prisoner to come in and do whatever he wanted to her.
    Maggie searched the room for anything she could use as a weapon. To her surprise, she found several objects that would make surprisingly good weapons. There were a pair of brass candlesticks on top of the mantel and near the fire, a poker leaned against the wall. Deciding she liked the looks of the poker best, because she really didn't want to have to get close enough to hit him with the candlestick, she took the poker and moved toward the door again.
    Pressing her ear against the panel, she held her rasping breath, trying to listen above the rampaging rhythm of her heart. After listening intently for some time, she finally decided to open the door and have a look.
    Turning the knob very slowly, she peered into the room—and discovered it was a bathroom.
    "Shit! Shit, shit, shit!”