“Uh, can we remove the chains?”

She gives him a toothy smile. “Eventually. For now, you will remain...

controlled.”

Slash grins. “I always wanted try bondage.”

Holding up a red lacquered finger, she gives him the fine print. “One thing, cherie . You must give me spice for my desire.”

“Huh?”

And then it hits him. Pain spikes his brain as she releases the memory. He can see it all again. She’d come from nowhere, that sleek blonde beauty. Knocked Chris to the ground and, before he could get away, she ripped his throat out. Blood rained from the sky. Slash had been splashed—now he knows the source of the smell.

Fear accelerates his heart. He can hear its rhythm. The techno beat drums in his ears.

No wonder this bitch wants me. She’s hungry.

As if in response to his thought, she licks her lips. Now black and forked, her tongue traces crimson flesh. “Fear is a tasty spice. It will enhance your blood until it is fit for a gourmet.”

Her cold, cold hands raise the front of his tee. Ignoring the stench of old blood— or perhaps relishing it—she leans down and runs that nasty looking tongue up his skin, from navel to chest. She traces one of his nipples.

He groans, feeling a strange mixture of dread and desire.

She leans back. Her mouth opens impossibly wide. The size of her fangs garbles her voice. “Now for our fun,” she says.

Incisors slice flesh with razor blade ease, bringing back memories of cutting himself. That had relieved his anguish. This doesn’t.

Part of him wants to be a man for her.

So much for bravery . Slash can’t help it. He screams.

The last sound he hears is her laughter’s musical peal.