Free Dominion of the Damned by Jean Marie Bauhaus Page B

mutilated bodies of his poor little wife’s tormentors and murderers. Blood soaked his shirt, covered his mouth, neck and hands as he stared at his reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar. “I’m a monster,” he’d said, and truer words had never been spoken. He was glorious.
    And he was done with her. He had accomplished his mission, and he had no more need of angels, avenging or otherwise.
    “Ingrate,” she muttered as she returned to her desk. She sat down and leaned back in her chair, rapping her fingernails on the oaken desk. She felt like she wanted to tear out of her own skin. She considered the mess of broken glass over by the door and thought of pouring herself another one. But alcohol couldn’t possibly come close to tempering her need. Alek had left her full of anger and lust. She needed a physical outlet. She needed to satisfy the urges boiling over inside her, in her stomach and between her legs.
    More than anything, she needed fresh, hot blood.
    She leaned over her desk and pushed a button on the intercom. “Celine, I’ve had an accident. Send someone from the cleaning crew to my office.” She paused before adding, “Make it male. Youthful and strong. And then go and join the others in searching for that wretched girl. I don’t wish to be disturbed.”
    “Yes, mistress,” came Celine’s voice over the intercom. Esme smiled. Celine had been made for greater things than a glorified prison secretary, but Esme knew she could count on her discretion. She sat back and, like a jungle cat in the tall grass lying in wait for its prey, watched the door.
    The moment stretched tortuously into long minutes as Esme’s hunger drove her closer and closer to the edge. At last, someone rapped on the door to her office. She pushed her chair back from the desk, the better to show off her legs. “Come in.”
    The door opened, and the janitor stuck his head in. He bowed his head deferentially when he saw Esme, fixing his gaze on the floor. “You called for a clean-up?”
    “Yes. Come inside.” She crossed her legs, slowly, and smiled. “Lock the door.” He faltered at the second command, but he did as he was told. He was a fine specimen. Celine knew Esme too well. This one was blond and athletic, clearly still in his prime. Esme inhaled his scent, which told her he was in perfect health. Everything about him was delicious. As he bent over to sweep up shards of glass, she took a sweet moment to enjoy the view before saying, “That can wait. What’s your name?”
    He stood up and looked at her, clearly disconcerted by her attention. His heart sped up and a wash of adrenaline filled Esme’s nose and inflamed her hunger. But she had to give him credit for keeping the fear off of his face.
    “Doug,” he said. “Doug Worthman.”
    “How lovely to meet you, Doug.” She started toying with the buttons of her blouse, unbuttoning it little by little. “I have another little problem you can help me with.”
    His face lost the battle it was fighting and betrayed a flicker of fear. He licked his lips, but it clearly wasn’t out of desire. “I…”
    “You have nothing to fear, Douglas. I promise, I’ll make it worth your while. Do me this little favor, and I’ll do you one in return. There must be something you want.” She traced a finger over the curve of her breast, and gave him a coy smile. “Besides me.”
    He hesitated before crossing over to her, and kept his eyes on the floor. She cooled it with the buttons. No point if he wouldn’t even look at her. “I… I have a daughter,” he said. “It’s been over a month since I’ve seen her, and I’m not scheduled to see her again for another two weeks. But tomorrow’s her birthday, and I was hoping... do you think you could arrange for me to spend the day with her?”
    “I don’t know. That depends. I can probably be talked into it, if I’m in a really good mood.”
    He glanced up at her, just long enough for her to see a flash of