Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

Blood-stained Angel	By : TanalithPure Category: Anita Blake > Threesomes Plus Views: 1740 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Anita Blake series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Blood-stained Angel
- 1
For the first time in too long, my own intuition told me I was in deep shit.

I was in the roughest part of town – Tenderloin, to be exact, down a dark, dead-end, trash-filled alley. It was winter, and I was as good as naked in the sub-zero conditions, for all the good my $69.99 without tax, Persian pleated peach coloured silk corset and panty set with ivory lace ruffles did. No, I had not come outside dressed only in this, but it looks like someone stole my white leather duster and clunky knee-high boots, which I brought over from France, while I was out for the count.

It was my favourite coat, damn it! Liam had given me it. I missed those beautiful nights with that mysterious gentleman like an ache. Or was that just from being thrown into the wall once too often? I forgot the bighting cold for a moment, fixing on Liam’s ivy coloured eyes. Not the red sort, the green edge around the yellow centre colour. He had such beautiful eyes. I wondered how he was doing ... If he would miss me ...

I cursed myself mentally for falling into memories and I refuse to feel sorry for myself. No, not even as I lay there, battered, bleeding and broken on the back streets of St. Louis, a city I had never even heard of till three weeks previously. I had come here to get away from the trouble at Home. I ran from Europe to the great US of A to loose myself, and, hopefully, the Hunters. Now I was in trouble again. And I had no way to help myself.

I couldn’t move. I’d lost too much blood. Even blinking was an effort and a half. My head thought it should explode. I felt disgustingly sick. Either that, or I couldn’t get enough oxygen. And, of course, my body hurt if I so much as shivered. My right lung was punctured by one of my broken ribs, and it hurt like a bitch fresh out of Hell. I could hear and feel and taste my own blood gurgle at the back of my throat as I struggled to breath. It was hot compared to the freezing temperatures that drove icy knives into my skin. It was gonna be one long and uncomfortable death. That was my main worry.

My second worry was for if I lived, I was going to have to put some strong anti-septic on the gashes on my back. They were still bleeding enough for me to feel the slow, irritating hot trickle on the little skin that was untouched. The fact that my open wounds were now in contact with the crud-filled tarmac of the alley made me think that if I did in fact survive the drowning-in-my-own-blood thang, then I may not survive all the nasties that could be swimming around my blood stream, which promised me an even more drawn-out demise. Was I still immune to infections? Hopefully I wouldn’t find out.

My third worry was that if I somehow survived the puncture and the blood infections, then Mathew would be pissed. I had already pissed him off tonight. That’s why I was lying on the floor, slowly dying. If I survived he was going to kill me personal, probably with plenty of torture and rape thrown in, too. I was defiantly in deep shit.

I realised that I had stopped shivering, because the amount of pain I was in lessened and the cold increased. I knew that was either a good sigh a very bad sign. Freezing to death was not one of the ways I wanted to go, but hey, any way is better than no way. You know when they say ‘Freezing to death is just like falling asleep’? They lied. It hurts. Not as bad as being burnt by fire, but nearly. It’s like, when you’ve been playing in the snow for too long and your hands are on this side of numb, but its deeper, and all over my body, biting into the core of the bone. It felt like I was breathing water. My arms, lower legs, ears and nose felt like two ferrets were chewing on them. All my bites and cuts felt like molten ice was being driven into them. How can it be hot and cold alll at once?

My body was a pulsing raw pain before fading to an almost none present ache, like there is nothing there but the faint outline, picked out by where my flesh was laid open. A desperate noise wormed its way through the blood in my throat and into the fridge air. Suprisingly it sounded like a murmer of pleasure. Weird.

My chest just got worse, the cold sharpening the pain until I rolled my eyes in the only protest I could muster. My abdomen spasmed, and a coughing fit wracked my body. I could still feel the ghost of hands round my neck, a nice bruise necklace to rival any abused wives’. I tasted my blood on my tongue, thick and clotted, and I felt my rib grinding deeper into the soft tissues it was designed to protect. My thoughts were turning into cotton wool, and desperately I tried to stay awake. Oh, God, when is this going to stop? I had been thinking that for the past three weeks, so it was pretty much automatic.

Lacking the energy to spit, I rolled my head to a side – pulling all the bite marks in right of my neck as I did – and let it dribble down my cheek. My eyes were smarting from the cold, but I wanted to look at the light at the mouth of the alleyway. I tried to focus my eyes, but blinking just made the shattered light dance. Slowly the light dimmed, moving away from me. The achy nothingness had eaten up my limbs, and the headache was now a screaming migraine. My body was shutting down, and I couldn’t stop it, even if I wanted to.

But I didn’t.

I wanted to die.

A small part of my complained at this, how all their effort would have been wasted, the massive amounts of pain they had endured would now be for nothing. I knew it wasn’t true. They had bought me three weeks. It had dragged. Each time I reached for them, and they weren’t there I had to stop, and remember why they weren’t there. I had to re-adjust all over again, because just for a moment, I forgot. I would get in, and call out for them, to be answered by silence. I'd put Marmite in the groceries. I would settle down for the day, and my last thought would be ‘Are they mad at me? What did I do wrong?’ and then I’d dream. It would be nightmares, where they hate me, blame me for what happened, or a dream where everything is normal. I don’t know which is worse. I may have tried not sleeping, but just seeing their faces, even twisted in hate or betrayal or pain, is better than not seeing them at all. When I woke up I always reached out a hand into the darkness … but no one would reach back to comfort me. No one rolled closer to press against my back in a soft warm line of safety and whisper dark promises of how to chase the bad dreams away. No one entered the room, sit down and stroked my hair till I slept again. No one answered my silent calls of loneliness.

They were gone. I have only the Echo in my mind of a softly strummed guitar, the murmur of their low intense voices just around the corner, the hint of their scents on the breeze, and two ghostly feather-light touches. I’m probably crazy, or just shy of insanity. Whatever. I just know that if I concentrate I can still taste them on my tongue as if we had kissed one last time.

So you see, I was alone in the world. They had each other, and were in the next. I just wanted them. Or, at least, an end to the pain. Yep. The cowards way out.

The yellow light had melted to a dim grey blob floating in a mass of shadow. Waiting for death is like waiting in the chemist. On and on and on. Another spasm clawed its way around my rib cage, but my energy was spent. I shut my lids over too cool eyes, and tried to cough to make the twitching stop. The wash of pain from my injury was too much, and the shadows swamped my mind like quicksand.
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Adult-FanFiction.Org is not in any way associated with or related to FanFiction.Net

Adult-FanFiction.org (AFF, the site), its owners, agents, and any other entities related to Adult-FanFiction.org or the AFF forum take no responsibility for the works posted to the Adult-FanFiction.org by its members.

While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.

All works displayed here, whether pictorial or literary, are the property of their owners and not Adult-FanFiction.org. Opinions stated in profiles of users may not reflect the opinions or views of Adult-FanFiction.org or any of its owners, agents, or related entities.

Website Domain ©2002-2017 by Apollo. PHP scripting, CSS style sheets, Database layout & Original artwork ©2005-2017 C. Kennington. Restructured Database & Forum skins ©2007-2017 J. Salva. Images, coding, and any other potentially liftable content may not be used without express written permission from their respective creator(s). Thank you for visiting!

Powered by Fiction Portal 2.0
Modifications © Manta2g, DemonGoddess
Site Owner - Apollo

Blood-stained Angel