Thirst No. 4 Read Free Page B

speak, aiming for the knife. I still possess the knowledge of a dozen systems of martial arts, but my nervous system doesn’t recall the precise moves. I feel as if I move in slow motion. My foot manages to connect with his hand and knock the knife away. Unfortunately, as I try to scissor my kick, strikewith my other leg and put him down, I stumble in midair and hit the floor.
    Ken has had enough of this crazy blond bitch. He runs for the door. But he is tall, with long legs, and has trouble accelerating. I stick out my foot and trip him. He falls face-first on the floor and in a moment I leap onto his back.
    “Sorry,” I say as I grab the back of his head, a handful of his sandy hair, and smash his nose into the stone tile floor. My insane hunger adds fuel to the blow. The cartilage in his nasal cavity cracks and he goes limp in my arms. “I really am sorry,” I repeat.
    Blood. Ken’s blood, it is all I see, all I can think about. He spouts from his nose and only dribbles from his neck. But I sink my teeth into the latter spot because, well, that’s what vampires do. It’s risky, though—at the back of my mind I know if I drink too deep I’ll open his jugular.
    Indeed, I’m only sucking on his neck a few seconds when I feel the pressure of the large vein beneath the tip of my tongue. The pounding of his heart no longer drives me insane. I am beyond that. It possesses me, as does the taste of the warm, lush fluid that fills my mouth. As I let my teeth sink deeper, I feel the jugular slowly split open. . . .
    Then I am in heaven, lost on a red river of blood.
    I lose the ability to plan and reason. My lust is too primal, it leaves no room for thoughts. I’m no different from an animal. All I know is the desire to feed, to keep feeding untilI’m full. The room vanishes from view. Even the pounding of Ken’s heart seems to disappear. Far off, I hear someone moaning. Only later do I realize it was me, lost in the throes of pleasure.
    Time goes by. I’m in no condition to count the minutes. It’s possible I pass out. When I do become aware of the hotel room again, I hear a noise. A ringing sound. Groggy, lying facedown on top of Ken’s back, I pick up the phone.
    “Hello?” I mumble.
    “Hi. This is Mike down in room service. We sent an order up to your room thirty minutes ago. We’d like to know if you received it.”
    I sit up suddenly and feel for a pulse at Ken’s neck.
    There’s nothing. No heartbeat, no Ken. He’s dead.
    “No,” I say. “I ordered a steak but it never arrived.”
    “Are you sure? I was here when our server left with your food.”
    “I’m quite sure.”
    “Is it possible you were in the shower or asleep and didn’t hear him knock?”
    “I’ve been sitting here wide awake this whole time. But you know what, I’m no longer thirsty, I mean, hungry. I want to cancel my order.”
    “That’s not a problem. It’s just that our server is missing and you sound like I just woke you up from a nap. I was just wondering if—”
    “You know, you’re being awfully pushy. What kind of hotel is this anyway? I’ve told you I haven’t seen Ken and I meant it. Now cancel my order and quit bugging me.”
    I go to hang up but hear him ask, “How did you know his name is Ken?”
    Shit! How could I be so stupid? The old Sita simply did not make such mistakes. I struggle for a way to cover my error.
    “You just said his name, Mike. Or did you forget already?”
    Another long pause. “I suppose I must have. You have a nice day, Ms. Fraiser.”
    He hangs up the phone before I can respond. It is just as well. With every remark I make, I keep burying myself deeper.
    I stare down at Ken’s body and realize I’m going to have to bury him, and quick. I have to get him out of my room before Mike grows impatient enough to call the police. Hell, for all I know, he’s already dialed 911.
    The one plus in all this madness is that I have left few blood stains on the floor. There’s a small puddle