Last of Daylight

11.1 There's Only One Way To Check For Rabies

Korac loved making an entrance, and this time was different. It was special. He needed to impress Sagan to distract her from the devastation. Not to mention, this was their first time meeting outside of her dreams.

Dreams where they shared beautiful and intimate secrets, though Sagan would never admit it. In breathy tones, in piercing cries, and in little giggles, she told Korac she loved him. He considered each confession a triumph and drew from them her soul.

Korac was so close to possessing it. It might take a few scratches and bruises to convince her to leave with him, but having been in her life for four years now, he knew where to leave his marks. What a puzzle she was.

Korac gleefully popped his new CD into the disc player and connected the converter for the headphone jack. This moment he planned to relish on the long drag back to Cinder with both Sagan and Rayne in tow. He expected neither one of them to say 'yes.'

Their training with Xelan all these years had granted them a false sense of confidence. He had to give them credit. They'd worked their asses off. Every night, they devoted at least two hours learning how to kill his kind, and the Icarean Traitor showed them every method known as of ten thousand years ago. Even with Xelan gone, others came forward to improve their technology beyond the predictable deaths. It was unlikely Xelan possessed this information.

As Korac considered the song selection, he recalled how he kept his secrets from Sagan the first three years since they'd started seeing each other in their dreams.

And then Justin came along.

It was interesting to follow Sagan's development as a young woman living a double life. She needed the punishment during the day for the forbidden lovers she enjoyed so much at night. The guilt and danger gnawed at her.

Korac respected pain, punishment, and torture. In all honesty, all of those were his favorite things. But it lacked art... a finesse. The adolescent puke didn't understand the subtlety of keeping a woman on the brink of orgasm, and then refusing to let her finish for four months. That was pain. That was art. Brutishly bruising her or ruining her ankle, that was just juvenile.

Korac rolled his eyes and hopped off the counter. The link between him and Sagan tugged as he walked closer to the cafeteria. He watched through the blood-washed windows as she stepped into the middle of the lobby and collected the gift he'd left her.

Yes.

That was the expression Korac had longed to see. Ecstatic torture at its best. Take the lock from his hair of which she'd told him so many times she loved. Feel him nearby. Know that Korac was coming for her.