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After that first and frantic
rush, hours passed in slow, languid movement. She laughed with the sheer joy of
what they shared.
In the pre-dawn light they
dozed, tangled in quilts, awoke, moving together again.
Benny rolled from her, spooned
against her back. Even in sleep, one hand cupped a full breast, still gently
kneading, moving over it.
She pushed against him,
pleading in an urgent, sleepy whimper.
"Greedy pig. Go to
sleep." Benny chuckled. He nuzzled against the back of her neck, tickled
her skin with his tongue. Her sweat was bitter in taste, mixed with the aroma of
lilacs and himself. He groaned a small protest and complied with her demands.
Still joined, they drifted off
to sleep.
The window gave with a small
pang of sound. Greylov cursed. The east was brightening. Feet marking the sill
with bits of rotted flesh, he crawled in. Things whispered in rotted ears,
guiding it to a door. It opened the doors and took the first step.
Benny was awake the moment the
sound of a hand on the glass knob penetrated his subconscious.
The knife snicked open.
A hand fumbled along the wall
near the door. Light flooded the room. An enormous man backed in, dragging a
stack of suitcases. He turned, eyes growing round and angry.
Benny studied the man with the
cautious eye of an orthodox cannibal. He looked to be almost a foot taller and
at least fifty pounds heavier, and no fat, either. Benny had taken down bigger
men, but not men with so crazed a look in their eye.
"Who the hell are you, and
what the fuck are you doing in my room?"
A soft yawn and a naked leg
came from the tangle of quilts puddled at Benny's feet. Terry Marie's sleepy,
smiling face glowed at Benny.
"Mm-rr-m, lover. I'm
cold. Come back to bed."
Benny stirred. "Do not
think now's a good time, babe," he said, nodding at the big man.
The man gaped at Sweet-Bottom.
His face went from blush to red to a spectacular shade of jalapeño purple. He
took a calming breath. Opening his mouth, he roared, "What in thee hell do
you think you're doing with my sister?" The pile of suitcases crashed to
the floor.
"Oh, God, no. I'm dead,
it's Bull." To Benny's surprise, Sweet Bottom hiccupped.
She jerked the quilt over her
head. This pulled the bottom up passed her thighs. Benny's toe gently tugged it
down passed a lightly furred 'V.' Terry Marie yanked it back up, face buried in
the musky quilts.
At a loss for words, Benny
glanced from Sweet-Bottom's hands clutching the quilt to her brother. Never very
good with words, Benny tried a smile and a shrug. "We're, ah, old
friends?" He glanced at the kid in the pictures. "You, ah, you must be
Boone. Hey, bro." Benny nodded.
Face contorted in a mask of
hate Bull leaped across the room.
Benny saw it coming, knew he
deserved it, let it happen.
Amid an explosion of stars his
head snapped back. Benny opened his mouth to explain and a fist rammed in. Head
wobbling, Benny staggered back and fell on the bed. Boone, nursing his bleeding
hand, cursed Benny's teeth and stumbled over his sister in his eagerness to
finish the kid. Sweet-Bottom screamed into the quilts and began to weep. A fist
in Benny's hair dragged him upright. a hook in the guts doubled him over. He
sprawled back staring up at the ceiling re-swallowing Millie's buffalo wings.
Spade-sized hands grabbed him
by the head and forced him to stand. The man's knee crushed into Benny's groin
with the words, "This'll teach you, you Yankee bastard, to seduce my
sister."
The next thing Benny knew he
was straddling the man's broad shoulders, his knife trembling at the other's
throat, ready to bury it somewhere between Adam's apple and chin.
'Dead. Now,' howled the wolf.
'Kill now. Feed me!'
She commanded him. He fought
it with all of his all. The conditioning was too strong, too harsh. Jagged and
edged with fire, pain hissed along raw nerves, down into his marrow to rage
throughout his body. He was dying from it and didn't care.
New fire seethed above and
beyond him, blue-white, tingled with gold. From it came a voice, one word, awful
in its gentleness and love.
'Dohi:yi'
Peace.
Eagle-Woman reached out. She
touched her son-by-adoption.
And the jarring pain and black
rage fled.
Benny looked at the knife and
where it was. Shocked, horrified at what almost happened he hurtled himself
away. The knife clattered to the floor.
Terry Marie threw herself on
Boone.
Taking a sheet, Benny lay it
over the woman and tenderly wrapped her in it.
The big man stared up at
Benny. Marred by a long jagged scar and an empty eye socket the kid's face was
close to being frightening. Not at all the sort of man his sister would normally
take up with. He was wolf-lean, a feral, hungry look to his remaining eye. No,
not Terry Marie's sort. This one ruled her, a woman who liked to rule. Benny
thrust a hand down and with no little reluctance, her brother grasped it and was
hauled up. Benny glanced away.
"I . . . I guess I
deserved it. The beating, man. I mean if I had a sister . . . ."
The words trailed off. Benny
glanced at Sweet-Bottom, trying to feel guilty about it all. She winked and
Benny felt himself begin to grow warm. To cover it he snatched up the knife.
Boone fingered the wet spot
under his chin. His hand came away bloody. Terry Marie gasped and rounded on
Benny.
"Sweet- I mean Ter -
I-I'm sorry, ok?" He scowled bleakly and made a gesture of frustration.
"He nailed me in the balls." A shudder wormed through him. "I
snapped," he finished in a sullen mutter, adding, "I didn't mean to.
It just happened, is all. It just happened, baby." Benny glanced away.
Boone's hand crept to his
throat while Terry Marie tried to staunch the blood with Benny's bandanna. The
flag stripes took on a brighter scarlet. At Sweet-Bottom's flashing eyes, Benny
winced.
Looking passed them he
blurted, "Oh, geezis," and dived for a sheet. Yanking Sweet-Bottom
away, he held it up to shield them. Millie paused long enough to take in the
shambles left of the room.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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