"Melanie Rawn - Spellbinder" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rawn Melanie)

decide she was too tired to wash the long golden mass of it.
Naked, she settled onto her bed with a cup of hot tea to refresh herself and a laptop
to record the night's events. But she was only halfway through her narrative before
her eyelids began to droopтАФnot surprising, considering it haggish...
been a long day and a vigorous night. Still, she didn't want to sleep until she got
everything down while it was still fresh in her mind.
. .. draped over the lushly padded platform, billowing like a black silk parachute.
One by one they came to me, and one by one I made my mark on them
No, "upon" sounded classier. She backspaced and retyped, mark upon them. The
masks stayed on
"Upon" again? No, too close together in the paragraph.
their faces, and in the anonymity they found pure release of' pure passion. They
thought they knew me, my face and my natureтАФand they thought they also knew my
bodyтАФbut I did not know them or so they thought. Wrapped in their black masks,
rapt in their passion,
Ooh, that was nice. Interior rhyme, they believed themselves ghosts without identity.
Yet one day when they least expect itтАФ
Oh shit, the opening line to "Candid Camera." She really was tired. Backspace.
Yet one morning, one evening
No, that was bad, too.
one morning, one midnight (alliteration was always good), / will see any or all of
them again, and know them by my mark upon themтАФby the scent of their blood that
I have tastedтАФ
Better stop now. She was using too many dashes and her thoughts were getting
disorganized. Hitting SAVE, she shut down the laptop and placed it beneath the bed.
She was yawning prodigiously by the time she crawled naked beneath silk sheets.
Let's see how Mr. Goddess-Almighty likes this one, she thought with a smile. Too
chicken-shit to do any honest research . .. thinks she knows everything about
everything.. . her and that dreadful woman back home... damn, I'm tired... I must
remember that Chinese guy's name .. . he was something else... those black eyes,
practically ovulating with lustтАФooh, I like that, have to remember that one... that
moonshine-and-magnolias bitch wouldn't last three minutes with him.... there's a
good reason my sales are through the roof.. ..
On this happy thought, she fell asleep.
****
WAKING TO THE SOFT FRAGRANCE of sage, she purred as gentle hands
straightened out her limbs. Sated though she was, still she smiled and stretched,
ready for more.
"Shh," whispered a man's deep voice. "I want you to lie very still, exactly as I
position you. And keep your eyes closed. Can you do that for me, Denise? "
Flat on her back, arms a little out from her sides; surely her legs should be spread
wider if he intended тАФ
As a sudden slither of cold silken cord brushed her left side, parallel to her heart, she
knew horror for the first time in her life. The cord warmed as it touched her body,
and she broke out in a sweat. She tried to move, to speak. But with that first whisper
of silk she was effectively paralyzed. Helpless, she could only lie there as the cord
traced its fiery way around the outlines of her body. Ribs to hip, hip to knee, knee to
toes. Back up the left leg, then down the right, up again to delineate curves and
hollows. Each finger and the precise angle of her elbow carefully limned. Her hair
twisted aside while the burning cord measured her skull. Down neck and shoulder