Read Online Crave by Karen E. Taylor - Free Book Online

perfection of the body or the immortality of the soul. It is the taking, it’s the seduction, it’s the blood and the death.” Larry laughed and broke the spell his story had cast. “And ever since then, I’ve been fulfilling that destiny. Living this life as it was meant to be lived. Although,” he came away from the window and sat back down on the couch, pulling small pieces of glass out of his palms, “you know, sometimes I still wonder if what I am living is reality or fantasy.”
    Mitch cleared his throat slightly and his voice sounded hoarser than normal. “Well, it sure as hell isn’t a fantasy for the people you murder.”
    Larry looked over at Mitch, a surprised expression on his face. “But it’s not murder,” he said confidently, “it’s survival. And I think you’re wrong, it is a fantasy, it’s all really nothing but a dream.” His expression changed suddenly. “But, you see, the hunger,” he said, a hard, driving anger now coloring his words, “the hunger’s not a dream, it’s a nightmare. I could probably live this life forever and love it, if it weren’t for the hunger. There are times when it’s so deep and so cold, it’s like falling into a dark pit or a grave. Times when the hunger is so strong, it tears me up inside, eating my guts, gnawing at my brain. And that’s why I agreed to go along with you, and why I’ll let you take me in for judgment. Maybe you can take away the nightmare and cure the hunger.”

Chapter 7
    L arry had put his face into his hands and slumped down on the couch. His shoulders trembled slightly and I sat staring at him, conflicting thoughts running through my mind. I desperately wanted a shower, with water hot enough to wash his evil from me. I also found myself wanting to comfort him, remembering when he was still human, remembering the time he’d made a declaration of eternal love for me. Had I offered him comfort at that point, could this entire situation have been averted? But I’d done nothing then, and I did nothing now, sitting silently on the couch, looking at him. Finally I felt in control of my emotions enough to raise my eyes to Mitch’s face.
    I had expected to find revulsion there and was not disappointed. But there seemed to be something else, sympathy perhaps, or even empathy. Maybe even agreement with Larry’s summation of our life. I attempted a smile, managed only a trembling twist of my mouth, but Mitch seemed to understand and nodded at me.
    â€œLet’s get this damned thing over with.” Larry jumped at the sound of Mitch’s voice and removed his hands from his face. Small drops of blood tracked down his cheeks. Tears, I wondered, or just the tracings from his glass-splintered palms? His eyes held no clue as they fastened on Mitch.
    â€œSo,” Larry said, his voice arrogant and assured once more, “what’s it going to be, Greer? Kill me or turn me over?”
    â€œI told you already,” Mitch hissed at him, “I’d just as soon kill you dead as look at you. And your story certainly did nothing to convince me that you’re anything other than scum, but Deirdre doesn’t want you dead.” He turned to me. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, love?”
    I shook my head. “Let the Cadre deal with him, Mitch. I don’t want his death or his spirit on my conscience.”
    Larry glanced at me. “But you’ll still speak for me?”
    â€œI promised I would, didn’t I? I won’t break that promise. Are you ready to go?”
    Larry shrugged, got up from the couch and headed for the door. Mitch moved after him quickly. “Just a minute, Martin,” he said in a stern voice, “if I have to hand you over to those bastards at the Cadre instead of killing you, I want to make damn sure you get there.” Mitch reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a