Читать книгу Forbidden Fruit - Erica Spindler, Erica Spindler - Страница 22

Hope knew of places in the French Quarter where she could get anything she needed, where she could fill any dark, uncontrollable desire that raged inside her. Many of these places were public and appeared to be nothing more than bars or shops or strip clubs. Most were frequented by wide-eyed tourists who never suspected what went on behind the public show.

Tonight, The Darkness had brought her to one of them.

Hope slipped through a rear door and headed down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. The walls were damp; the air fecund. From between the hundred-year-old plaster walls she could hear the scurry of cockroaches. A place as old as the French Quarter harbored many creatures. Some of them human.

She had disguised herself, not that anyone from her circle would see her here. But she knew not to take chances. She had visited this place, and others like it, many times before.

With each step, The Darkness grew stronger inside her, beating…beating…building to a fever pitch. Building until all that was left of Hope St. Germaine was a throbbing shell. Inside her burned an inferno that needed to be quenched before it consumed her live.

She would hate herself tomorrow. As always, she would curse her mother, her past, all the Pierron women. She would punish herself; she would do penance.

But at least The Darkness would be sated. At least, for a while, it would slumber inside her. And maybe, this time it would slumber forever.

And she would finally be free.

She stopped before the door marked by the number three. She drew in a shuddering breath, the blood thrumming in her head, the call so loud it reverberated through her like tribal drums. She reached for the knob and the metal felt cold against her fevered skin. She twisted and pushed; the door eased open.

On the bed, naked, the man waited for her.