Blood Claim by Laura Mykles (free e books to read .txt) 📕

when they reached the row it was in, and slid off the car onto Cory's feet. There was nothing more of Cory inside him, Luke saw, even from where he was sitting behind the wheel. If Cory wasn't asleep, he was far, far down.

The garage was newish, less than a couple years old, but it was still old enough to have caused its own share of deaths. A homeless man, found frozen where he slept on the coldest night of the year, a hit-and-run victim who'd died before paramedics arrived. There was even a businessman who had been found clutching his chest behind the wheel of something black and sleek. They'd gathered around Cory, leaning into the power that he was, but Cory didn't seem to notice them.

Luke didn't get out of the car. He didn't have to to know that it was all a very bad idea. Cory stared at him through the glass, and Luke knew Cory knew exactly what they were planning.

"This is not going to work,” he told Lathe.

"Have some faith,” Lathe said, using the word as though it only had four letters.

"He knows why we're here."

"Of course he does. But he doesn't know what you have in your pocket. You don't know how far a sexual obsession can go."

"He can do a bit more to us than just boil a rabbit,” Luke said, but Lathe looked at him hard, so he get out of the car, too tired argue anymore. Cory hadn't moved from where he leaned against the fender of his car.

"I revoke my invitation,” he said in Cory's flat voice. His arms were crossed, his face cold, but still his entire body leaned toward Luke out of need.

"I think that only works in private dwellings,” Luke told him.

"Really?” Cory asked. “You sure?"

"Fairly,” Luke said. “Sorry."

"So many rules to this body. How did you learn them all?"

"One at a time.” Luke was close now; he hadn't been aware that he'd kept moving. He remembered planting his feet a good four or five yards from Cory. Now he was close enough to feel Cory's breath on his neck, if either of them breathed. It helped that he no longer smelled of Cory, but of something completely other.

"I suppose I'll learn them as well. There are others coming like you. Soon this place will be swarming with them. And you and I will feed."

"But you're hungry now,” Luke said calmly.

"Starved,” Cory agreed. “I can feel your blood moving, and I want it. Also, I want to put you over this hood and fuck you, or at least this body does. Is that normal?"

"For that body it is.” Luke couldn't kill the grin on his face. He wanted it as much as Cory did, and it took a lot of strength to pull back from the need. More strength than he had, and he was on borrowed time as it was, but he needed to understand.

"The others that are coming here. Did you know they're all stronger than the one thinking about the chain in the trunk right now? Are those for me?"

Luke looked over his shoulder. “Supposedly,” he said, though he had no real way of confirming what Lathe was thinking.

"Does he think I'm just going to fall for that hypodermic needle in your pocket? That I'd just let you, what did he say, ‘stick’ me? Does he really think I'm that stupid?"

"I believe he believes you'd be overcome with lust."

"Overcome with lust?” Cory repeated. “Over you?"

There was no lying to Cory, not when that thing was inside him. He pulled the truth from Luke like a handkerchief from a pocket. “I told him it wouldn't work,” Luke said.

"Tell him I said you were right.” Cory looked back to him. “You make the one inside me happy. I like that feeling. Come with me. Serve me. I'll make you happy, too."

"I can't do that,” Luke said, though it hurt him, physically, to deny Cory.

"Yes, you can. Isn't giving in one of the easiest thing you can do? Just let me in."

"The one inside you is dying. I want him back. I need him back."

"I'm a hundred thousand times more powerful than he is."

"That doesn't mean anything to me."

"It does to the other one,” Cory said, motioning to Lathe in disgust. “He'd grovel at my feet for an ounce of what I'm offering you. Why won't you take it?"

"You can take that up with him. I just want my Cory back."

Cory pushed away from the car. “Do you think I couldn't just take it from you? You said it yourself—revoking your invitation doesn't work out here, and that's the only line of defense you have. I can show you parts of yourself you've never had access to before. I can make you like a god."

"Not interested,” Luke said, and Cory just looked at him. Suddenly the cold night air was impossible to breathe, even as a pretense. Words failed him.

"That's better,” Cory said. Its eyes were no longer Cory's. They were the same green, but the pupils almost completely swallowed up the iris. “No words, no more useless objections."

Luke took out the hypo. “And what are you going to do with that?” Cory snarled. “I already told you it would have no effect on me."

It's not for you, Luke thought, and Cory's eyes widened as though he'd spoken aloud. Luke jammed the needle into his own thigh. It worked as well as Lathe said it would. One moment he saw the growing anger across Cory's face at being denied that which he wanted; the next he was in darkness. He felt his head hitting something, and then he just floated away. He didn't see Cory, the real Cory, in his hazy dream, but he felt him getting weaker with every sunrise.

Luke woke up in the basement of the Deane House, mouth dry and his head pounding. He didn't open his eyes until he could locate Lathe. The dizziness passed for the most part, and he could hear