Page 5 of Lust
Liza was going to puke just from his words. She grabbed his hair, yanked his head up so he faced her.
“Shut up,” she demanded.
He nodded. “Whatever you say.”
“You’re still talking.”
Alright. I can do this.
He pushed down the cup of her lace bra and then that mouth fell blessedly silent because it busied itself on her breast. It should have felt good. But his lust flared brighter, dug deeper. Her grip on him tightened. He ground into her and that sick sensation curdled in her gut.
She tasted tequila, shoved him away, and vomited on the pavement before she realized what had happened.
“What the fuck?” the man gasped. “Are you... are you okay?”
This isn’t going to work.
“Go,” Liza said, then retched again.
“Should I call someone?”
Wrong thing to say.
She shot him daggers. He zipped his fly and backed away. He mumbled insanities and then must have left because, when Liza hurled another mouthful of tequila, the only sound was misery pounding in her ears.
Tears burned her eyes.
Fuck this.
Fuck all of this.
Her throat tightened. Her chest wracked, and the undeniable urge to sob almost got out, but she pushed it down. Deep. Not today. Not ever, would she feel sorry for herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and reminded herself of all the good things she had in her life. Sure, she’d developed a disposition to puke every time she scored, but so what? She had an honest job where she could make a difference in the real world and not fuck about in the shadows like her siblings. She had a roof over her head. She had money. She had good looks. Health. Strength. And a family who supported her, as misguided as they were sometimes, it all came from a good place.
Daisy had none of that.
Daisy was the eldest of the Lazarus siblings, but not a Lazarus. She’d been separated from them during the escape from the Syndicate laboratory that created them thirty or so years ago. As the eldest, Daisy, or Despair as she was called back then, led the way in keeping morale positive. Liza had only been four or five yet she remembered with crystal clarity how Daisy would insist each sibling cuddled her first thing in the morning. She would even chase them about the small living quarters if they denied her.
“Lu-ust,” Despair’s sweet, melodious voice sang. “Come here and give me my morning cuddle!”
“You have to catch me first, ‘Spair.” Liza’s four-year-old legs jumped onto a table, slipped, and toppled to the side. She screamed.
Strong childish arms caught her. “Don’t worry, Lust. I’ll always catch you when you fall.”
Liza doubled over, grimacing. A sharp stab of pain pierced her gut. So much agony. So strong. As if... Her internal alarm sounded. It wasn’t the sense of lust from inside the bar. This was different.Deadly.
When most people heard the word lust, they associated it with sex. But the worst kind, the most deadly kind, was the kind of lust that made you crave something so bad you would do anything to claim it.
That was the kind she sensed now.
The distinct sound of a woman’s raised, tight voice sent Liza stretching beyond the shadow of the dumpster to peek. A tall man wearing an army jacket followed a skinny blond teenager into the alley. He looked about twenty or so, was decent looking enough to make him appear less threatening. The scar on his face only garnered sympathy. The words coming out of his mouth were smooth and sweet, but Liza recognized the girl’s armor, the way she carried herself, her false bravado. She was a runaway.
That deadly sense of lustpingedin her gut, growing in intensity, and Liza knew she had to get closer to hear more. She creeped around the dumpster’s wall and darted to the next, accidentally tipping over an empty bottle before sheltering herself behind the metal bin. With a wince, she hid herself and held her breath, hoping that she wasn’t found.
The conversation continued, and this time, she could hear the words.
“Come on,” the guy crooned. “You don’t look old enough to be out on your own in this neighborhood. It’s dangerous. You want me to call someone for you?”
She lifted her stubborn chin. “I’m older than you think.”
