Eternal: More Love Stories With Bite (19 page)

She was trapped. She was being held in a dark, cold place by a monster. And she had no idea how to escape.

And Corey
. . .
poor Corey. Who
knew
what the creature was doing to him now? Torturing him? Drinking his blood? Worse? With those teeth, who knew what the thing was capable of? Devouring Corey? Certainly. Like a monster from a fairy tale. But that was impossible, she knew. Those things existed only
on
the pages
of
books or in the flicker
of
film upon a screen.

Didn't they?

Tarrah pulled at her
restraints,
but they
wouldn't
give. After a few deep breaths, she focused on relaxing every muscle in her body. She thought if she relaxed enough and wiggled just so, she might be able to slip from the cuffs. Isn't that what Houdini
did?
He controlled his breathing, relaxed
his
muscles, and voila! He was
free
of his binds.
She'd
read about it
in
some
book
Corey had given her a few years ago.
But after
fifteen minutes or so of relaxing, and then wrig
gling,
pulling, cursing, and
trying
desperately not to scream, Tarrah
realized
that Houdini she was not. A tear slid down her cheek to the floor below, and Tarrah flew into panic, flailing against the cuffs in a desperate attempt to break free. Her panic gave way to sobs, and after a while, her throat felt raw and
hollow.

The unseen
door
opened again after
what felt
like
about
a
half hour and Tarrah almost gasped
at the brief
glow of the flashlight as it entered the room. Once the door closed, her eyes adjusted to the darkness again and she watched as
the
nameless monster dropped Corey to
the floor.
Corey went down like a stone, and barely made a sound. Tarrah had her eyes locked on her boyfriend, who looked so tired, so weak, that she could barely stand to think about
what
might have transpired behind that door. Had the creature fed on him? Drained him almost to the point of death? And
if it
had .
..
why had
it
returned Corey
to
this
room without finishing
him
off?
Were
they being
kept for some other purpose, or more of the same?

Tarrah
flicked her eyes to Corey,
who
moaned and sluggishly moved about, barely conscious. It had to be due to loss of blood. "What did you do to him, you monster?"

The creature moved over to where Tarrah lay shivering and put a thermometer to her ear. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. It was her turn now, her turn to see what was
on
the other side
of
that door, to learn what sadistic purpose the monster was keeping them for. The beast pushed the button, and she heard a small beep. After checking her temperature, it nodded thoughtfully.
"It
won't be long now, girl. I'll be back for you
in an
hour or
so. I
suggest you say your good-byes before I return."

Tarrah clamped her mouth shut, refusing to speak. Talking to her captor wouldn't do them any good. The monster wouldn't listen, and after seeing what it had done to Corey, she knew nothing she could say would ever convince
it
to
let
them go.

Capping the thermometer, the beast wordlessly stood and slipped back out of the unseen door. Tarrah looked over at her unconscious boyfriend. She wanted her voice to sound confident and calm, but what came out was more like a panicked squeak. "Corey?"

But Corey wasn't moving, and as far as she could tell, he wasn't breathing either. Panic enveloped her again, welling up from deep within, and she stretched her leg outward, trying desperately to reach Corey so that she could nudge him into wakefulness, back into life. As she stretched, it seemed that time slowed and she could see
into
the future. A future without Corey. A future where she'd never apologized for pushing him away last weekend. A future that lasted only minutes before the monster returned to kill her as well. Just as her foot was within reach of Corey's leg, she hesitated. What if she touched him and discovered that he really was dead? If she didn't touch him at all, could she go on pretending that he was fine and that they were going to get out of this mess somehow?

But there was
no
turning back. She couldn't live with a lie. She had to know the truth, had to know if her boyfriend was okay. She pointed her toe and nudged his still form. "Corey? Come on, answer me. Are you okay? You have to be okay. Please say something."

At first, Corey didn't move. But then, ever so slowly, he groaned and strained to lift his head. When he met her eyes, she released a burdened, relieved sigh and had to hold in a gasp at the sight of
his
eyes—her favorite part of him. Crystalline blue and beautiful, even in the darkness of this horrible place. In her terror, she'd almost forgotten what a looker he was. He gazed at her, sadness flicking across his face, and pulled one comer of his mouth up in a small tug, as if he were trying desperately to retain his sense of optimistic humor. "I guess that depends on your definition of okay. I'm really weak, that's for sure. Dizzy as hell, kinda nauseous. And my neck is really sore. What about you, babe? Are you okay?"

The truth was, Tarrah had never been so not-okay in her entire life. But she couldn't say that or she'd start crying— she could already feel the tears welling up in her throat. So instead, she said, "I thought you were dead."

Corey's voice dropped to a terrified whisper. "That makes two of us, babe."

She bit her bottom lip. Tarrah had never liked it when he called her babe. It seemed so caveman, so possessive and demeaning. But at the moment, it was sweet, so sweet that she was having a hard time keeping the tears at bay. She loved him so much. There had to be a way out of this for both of them.

Recalling what he'd said about hurting, she replied, "What's wrong with your neck? What did it do to you?"

Corey swallowed hard, his eyes dropping in what looked like embarrassment. When he turned his head, she could make out two small holes on the left side of his throat. A horrified gasp escaped her, and a frightened shiver crawled up her spine with the realization that the creature was coming back in an hour to do the same to her. And who knew how long it would continue using them like this? It could keep them here for weeks, she bet. She wretched, her body filling with disgust at the thought. By the time she regained her composure, Corey was looking at her again. He looked wounded, but not defeated. "Tarrah," he said, his tone almost stern, "you have to get out of here before it hurts you. Or worse. You know that, right? You know if you don't escape, it'll kill you, too. Right? I'm as good as dead."

"Don't say that!"

His eyes said it all. He couldn't tell her the horrors he'd faced in the other room, but those horrors had involved pain and blood and he didn't want her to be subjected to them at any cost. She nodded, sniffling away her tears, frightened but touched that he wanted to protect her. The last time they had seen each other, she'd told him she needed some space, that she was thinking about seeing other people. Now she realized that she only said that out of some twisted need for attention. She loved Corey, even if he could be obnoxious sometimes. They'd been together for a long time and she couldn't imagine life without him. Especially now, when faced with the very real possibility of just that. Her words left her mouth in a strangled whisper. "We're getting out of here together. Don't even think about pulling that noble sacrifice routine. I'm finding a way out and taking you with me."

They both went quiet then and neither spoke for several minutes. Tarrah ran a finger along her cuffs, inching her way over the metal, hoping to learn more about it. The material wasn't traditional steel, that was for sure, and the lock seemed to be some sort of fingerprint recognition device. Both meant bad news: that only their captor was capable of freeing them from their binds. She hadn't been able to escape the cuffs, but maybe they would be easier for someone else to snap from a different angle. And the creature had left Corey's hands free. "Do you think you can break my cuffs?" she asked him.

Corey started to crawl over, but stopped, shaking his head. He looked gray, even in the darkness. "I feel so dizzy. Hold on. This might take a minute."

After a few moments, he started to move again. He crawled behind her and got a good look at the cuffs. He pulled hard on the chain that linked her hands, pinching her skin sharply. Her wrist instantly felt wet, which meant she was bleeding. "Ow! Dammit, Corey!"

"Sorry. If I had some tools, this wouldn't be a problem. Man . . . what I'd give for some bolt cutters right now." He sighed heavily. "There is one thing we could try, but I don't know if it's a good idea, Tarrah."

Wrenching her neck around, she met her boyfriend's worried eyes. "What is it? At this point I'm willing to try anything. We have to get out of here, right? So what is it?"

Corey's face went pale. He collapsed to the ground, his body trembling.

"Corey!" Tarrah's heart raced. The blood loss, the stress, dragging himself across the room to try to help her get loose. It must have been too much for Corey. He couldn't handle it.

His eyes fluttered for a moment, as if he were on the verge of losing consciousness. Then he stretched his fingers out and laced them with hers. His fingers were warm, so warm that they were almost hot to the touch. His skin burned feverishly.
Her
fingers shook against his.
He
was sick, maybe dying, and she had no idea how to get him out of here. And she was the only one who could save him, save them both. Suddenly, the room seemed very large, overwhelming. Corey gave her fingers a weak squeeze and whispered, "I love you, Tarrah."

Large, round tears escaped her eyes and rolled down her cheek to the concrete floor. Instantly, she hated him. Because he was saying good-bye. He was letting go before they even knew things were hopeless. She couldn't
let
that happen,
couldn't
say good-bye when there was still a chance they could get free. But her hatred was fleeting. She swallowed her tears, pushing her fear way down deep inside, and whispered, "I love you, too, Corey."