Stealing Kathryn. Jacquelyn Frank
arms from fingertips to shoulder! Of course, she was a little small, according to some people.
She bit her lip and leaned closer with irresistible curiosity so she could get a better look at him.
He was on his forearms and knees, his face burrowed into his hands. He was dressed entirely in black. The clothing, what she could see of it, was alien to her in its fashion. Even the fabrics looked strangely coarse. It was nothing she had ever worked her needle through, and she prided herself on being a remarkably fair seamstress.
She could see the back of his large head. His features were further hidden by an outrageously thick and long tumble of silken black hair that sprouted from his scalp, tumbling forward over his neck and face. She followed the line of that neck, picking out the distinction of his bold spine through his shirt fabric and the spread of the back of an immense rib cage. His waist was narrower, though probably still as wide as her thigh was long. His hips were less wide, but in a similar proportion to the rest of his physique. The legs, tucked in a rather fetal manner beneath himself, were the size of good-sized and very sturdy tree trunks.
Sweet Father, he was twice the size of any man anywhere! She suspected he would dwarf her own husky father.
Another tormented groan rose from the object of her fascination, snapping Kathryn’s attention back to the huge man’s obvious distress, as well as her present situation. She warned herself to exercise caution. She might be a scrapper, but there was nothing she could expect to do against someone so much bigger than she was. It was likely, she told herself, that this was the person who had all the answers to what was going on.
Well, that meant she needed him to talk. And he wasn’t likely to do much of that if he was hurting. And besides, he sounded almost sad as he made those painful little sounds.
She scuttled off the bed. Approaching him slowly and carefully lowering herself to her knees beside him, she leaned over him and laid her hands on his shoulders as comfortingly as she could.
“Can I help you?” When she received no immediate response, she moved forward a little farther and sought to gain his attention by placing her hand in his hair at the back of his head. “Here now, let me help you. Please.”
Kathryn gave a yelp of shocked surprise when he suddenly lurched away from her touch, stumbling and crashing heavily to the floor, trying to crawl away from her. He barely progressed another foot before collapsing face-first into the carpeting. He whined piercingly, like an animal in raw, anguished agony, making the hair on the back of her neck raise up as if someone had just trod across her grave.
Kathryn’s heart stuttered and her eyes widened. She had never heard such a horribly inhuman sound before. It was terrifying. But as he whimpered softly again, she knew it was the most pitiful thing she’d ever heard and there was no way she could even pretend to ignore him. Bolstering her courage, hesitating with each movement, she slid cautiously back to his side.
“Please,” she begged softly, “let me help you.”
She touched him again and he reacted as if she had burned him. He recoiled, an agonized roar splitting her ears as it tore from the huddled black mass before her.
“Leave me alone!”
She fell back away from the booming power of his voice rattling the treasures around them in their casings. It must be the acoustics and the vastness of the room that made it amplify in such an ominous way.
She felt icy cold fingers of dread stroking at her throat.
There’s something familiar about that voice.
Her nightmare! He was the one who had been in her—
But no! Then that would mean it—all of this—either all of this was still the same dream or—
Or it was all real? If so, then he was the one who had touched her time and again in unwelcome ways. It didn’t seem possible, but why else would she know his voice if it hadn’t somehow been real? And it was this monstrous man who had somehow spirited her away from her home and had subjected her to all this awful terror and fear. Trapped her there like one of these shiny baubles to be gaped at and toyed with.
Bastard! she thought with unaccustomed vileness. Soulless bastard! Her family had been dying and he had violated them and her by stealing her away! Kidnapping her!
“Bastard!” she screeched, the thought of her abandoned and helpless family riling her up like a madwoman. “You bloody bastard of hell!”
She was no longer sympathetic to his pain as she flew into him, pummeling him with her relatively small fists. Somewhere in her enraged mind, a quiet voice told her she was probably doing him little or no harm. He was so much bigger than she, and Kathryn could now feel the thick masses of muscles beneath her battering hands. But regardless, it made her feel better to fight back. Then she, who had never wished harm on the slightest of creatures, felt joy that he was in pain. Utter, mind-numbing joy.
She was completely unaware of the ripple of renewed strength that was shuddering through her victim. She was oblivious to the fact that his agonized moans were replaced with a soft sigh of something slightly but distantly akin to pleasure.
The next thing she was aware of was a bone-chilling, wickedly rolling laugh. Then he surged up before her like a monolith of black rage.
She froze, her entire body locking. No breath. No blink. Not a glimmer of movement as her shocked eyes tried to absorb the impact of the face looming above hers.
He was hideous!
She had never seen such a grotesque compilation of features and was paralyzed with panic that she was seeing it now. The entire face was bloated over warped, distended bones. His forehead and jaw jutted out in a way that would give his profile a crescent shape. Cheekbones, fat with flesh, protruded starkly before falling into the contrasting concave cheeks themselves. His eyes were enormous, though sunken, the lids above and under colored in brown shadow in severe contrast to the pristine white of the rest of his complexion. The eyes themselves she had seen before. They were a brackish, swamplike black and green. The blackness in them twisted into horrifying shapes and mysteries her mind could not bear.
But the worst of it, the utmost horror of him, was his mouth. The upper lip was abnormally larger than the lower one. And as he released a malevolent laugh, she saw the wicked gleam of two fangs.
Vicious, monstrous fangs.
Kathryn screamed.
Awful! Terrible! She had never seen anything—
He seized suddenly, twisting slightly as a look of pain—pleasure?—coursed through him. Then his dreadful eyes were upon hers, sending frenzied fright bolting into her.
But before she could move, his hands came out and seized her by her upper arms. He dragged her hard up against his chest, cold and hot sensations bleeding into her wherever he contacted her flesh.
“Kathryn,” that dreadful voice hissed in exultant evil, “you are mine, Kathryn. Forever! I thought your purity would be the greatest treasure.” He threw back his head and laughed with terrible glee. “Wrong! So wrong! Your corruption…the corruption of all your innocence will be my glory! Look at me! There was pain, horrible pain, but all it took was your rage, your sweet rage to make me pulse with power again!” His malignant eyes bored into hers and she felt as though her very soul were being coerced from her. “Mine! Forever!”
“No!” She shook her head madly, struggling to be free, to get away from his sulfurous breath and damning words. “I will do nothing to please you!”
“Oh, but you already have.” He seemed to become incredibly calmer then as his eyes roamed intimately over every part of her. He reached out as if in a trance and stroked her fine hair. She recoiled, her stomach turning madly as she shuddered in revulsion. “You are so beautiful. Such a treasure. I have never had such a treasure as you. I was wrong to think you would be most beautiful in an enchanted repose. I like you much better awake, Kathryn.” She felt long, clawlike nails scrape down the length of her throat; then they seemed to retract a little, leaving