Oliver's Hunger
Page 31
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Yet she still felt dirty, sullied by the vampires who’d used her. It was a stain she feared would never disappear, no matter how much soap she used to wash it away.
Realizing the futility of her efforts, her eyes welled up. And in the privacy of a stranger’s bathroom, she allowed the tears to come. How long she cried, she couldn’t tell, but when she finally stopped, the water was tepid.
Numb from her show of weakness, she reached for the towel she’d pulled from a closet earlier and dried herself off. She pulled on her pants without her panties—those were currently hanging over the towel rack to dry—, but when she looked at her blood- and dirt-stained T-shirt, she considered Oliver’s offer of fresh clothes.
It cost her a good deal of pride to admit to herself that she wanted to feel a clean shirt on her skin. Tossing her own T-shirt on the floor, she removed the barricade in front of the door and unlocked it.
The bedroom was empty—nobody had entered it. It was a relief.
Scrutinizing Oliver’s closet, Ursula found nothing out of the ordinary: his taste in clothes was very . . . human. Jeans in varying shades of blue and black, T-shirts in a variety of colors, several business suits—which surprised her, since he didn’t look like he wore formalwear—and shoes, belts, and ties.
She opened a drawer: socks. The one next to it revealed a stack of underwear. A wave of heat shot through her. Red-faced, she shut the drawer quickly. Of course she knew that even vampires wore boxers or briefs. But she wasn’t interested which category Oliver belonged to. She already knew that: he’d picked up a pair of boxer briefs off the floor earlier.
Blindly jerking a T-shirt from one of the stacks, she closed the closet door. She quickly pulled the shirt over her head and tucked its ends into her pants. It was too large for her, which was to be expected, but it did its job.
Ursula glanced at the clock on the bedside table. At least four if not five more hours till sunrise. It was time to make a decision: stay here with the vampires and hope she could convince them to help her and the other girls who were still imprisoned, or make a run for it, hoping the police would believe her story and help her.
Which scenario had the higher likelihood of succeeding?
As always when facing a monumental decision that could change her life for either the better or the worse, she contemplated each side on its own merits. First her option of escaping and running to the police: it seemed relatively simple. Only two men were in the house, one of them a human whose senses weren’t any sharper than hers. While Blake looked strong, she had the feeling she could outsmart him. Not so Oliver. But knowing that vampires were nocturnal creatures, it was highly likely that he was sleeping deeply during daylight hours, making a daytime escape her only viable option. Besides, even if he woke, once she’d fled from the house, he couldn’t follow her if he didn’t want to be burned to a crisp by the sun.
Finding a police station shouldn’t be too difficult. She could ask any passerby for directions. But once there, what would she tell them? That a group of vampires had kidnapped her and were still holding a dozen other girls captive? No. They would think she was crazy. What if she told them that some illegal prostitution ring was imprisoning girls? It was a more likely scenario, and the police would surely investigate. She was sure that once she went to the Bayview district, where Oliver said he’d found her, she would find her way back to her former prison. She’d made sure to remember street names and memorable buildings.
But once the police were there, raiding the building, what would happen then? She knew that the mortal weapons the police had would never kill a vampire. What they needed were stakes and guns with silver bullets, a fact she’d learned during her captivity. The police would be slaughtered by the vampires. She herself would be far enough away to escape and be able to return home. But could she live with the guilt of having sent so many men to their deaths? And what about the other girls? Could she live with the knowledge that they were still imprisoned as blood whores?
Ursula shook her head.
But was her other option any better? Could she convince the vampires from Scanguards to help her and go after her captors to save the other girls and make sure this didn’t happen to anybody else? The more she thought about it, the more she knew she had no choice. If anybody could fight those vampires, it would be other vampires. They would know what to expect and be prepared to fight them. It would at least be a fair fight. But if they succeeded, could she keep it a secret what her blood and the blood of the other girls meant to a vampire? Or would they find out that their blood acted like a potent drug on a vampire? Would they too want it for themselves?
Realizing the futility of her efforts, her eyes welled up. And in the privacy of a stranger’s bathroom, she allowed the tears to come. How long she cried, she couldn’t tell, but when she finally stopped, the water was tepid.
Numb from her show of weakness, she reached for the towel she’d pulled from a closet earlier and dried herself off. She pulled on her pants without her panties—those were currently hanging over the towel rack to dry—, but when she looked at her blood- and dirt-stained T-shirt, she considered Oliver’s offer of fresh clothes.
It cost her a good deal of pride to admit to herself that she wanted to feel a clean shirt on her skin. Tossing her own T-shirt on the floor, she removed the barricade in front of the door and unlocked it.
The bedroom was empty—nobody had entered it. It was a relief.
Scrutinizing Oliver’s closet, Ursula found nothing out of the ordinary: his taste in clothes was very . . . human. Jeans in varying shades of blue and black, T-shirts in a variety of colors, several business suits—which surprised her, since he didn’t look like he wore formalwear—and shoes, belts, and ties.
She opened a drawer: socks. The one next to it revealed a stack of underwear. A wave of heat shot through her. Red-faced, she shut the drawer quickly. Of course she knew that even vampires wore boxers or briefs. But she wasn’t interested which category Oliver belonged to. She already knew that: he’d picked up a pair of boxer briefs off the floor earlier.
Blindly jerking a T-shirt from one of the stacks, she closed the closet door. She quickly pulled the shirt over her head and tucked its ends into her pants. It was too large for her, which was to be expected, but it did its job.
Ursula glanced at the clock on the bedside table. At least four if not five more hours till sunrise. It was time to make a decision: stay here with the vampires and hope she could convince them to help her and the other girls who were still imprisoned, or make a run for it, hoping the police would believe her story and help her.
Which scenario had the higher likelihood of succeeding?
As always when facing a monumental decision that could change her life for either the better or the worse, she contemplated each side on its own merits. First her option of escaping and running to the police: it seemed relatively simple. Only two men were in the house, one of them a human whose senses weren’t any sharper than hers. While Blake looked strong, she had the feeling she could outsmart him. Not so Oliver. But knowing that vampires were nocturnal creatures, it was highly likely that he was sleeping deeply during daylight hours, making a daytime escape her only viable option. Besides, even if he woke, once she’d fled from the house, he couldn’t follow her if he didn’t want to be burned to a crisp by the sun.
Finding a police station shouldn’t be too difficult. She could ask any passerby for directions. But once there, what would she tell them? That a group of vampires had kidnapped her and were still holding a dozen other girls captive? No. They would think she was crazy. What if she told them that some illegal prostitution ring was imprisoning girls? It was a more likely scenario, and the police would surely investigate. She was sure that once she went to the Bayview district, where Oliver said he’d found her, she would find her way back to her former prison. She’d made sure to remember street names and memorable buildings.
But once the police were there, raiding the building, what would happen then? She knew that the mortal weapons the police had would never kill a vampire. What they needed were stakes and guns with silver bullets, a fact she’d learned during her captivity. The police would be slaughtered by the vampires. She herself would be far enough away to escape and be able to return home. But could she live with the guilt of having sent so many men to their deaths? And what about the other girls? Could she live with the knowledge that they were still imprisoned as blood whores?
Ursula shook her head.
But was her other option any better? Could she convince the vampires from Scanguards to help her and go after her captors to save the other girls and make sure this didn’t happen to anybody else? The more she thought about it, the more she knew she had no choice. If anybody could fight those vampires, it would be other vampires. They would know what to expect and be prepared to fight them. It would at least be a fair fight. But if they succeeded, could she keep it a secret what her blood and the blood of the other girls meant to a vampire? Or would they find out that their blood acted like a potent drug on a vampire? Would they too want it for themselves?
