Hotter Blood: More Tales of Erotic Horror

own.

FIND BOY said his brain again, and he wondered when he did find him, if he'd reason with the kid or eat him.

His bear body, primitively reacting to his human thoughts, lumbered to the door. Leonard had enough presence of mind to snatch his yellow tie from the bed with a hairy paw and toss it around his thick neck, hoping that no one would shoot a bear in a power tie.

FIND BOY

It wasn't easy to get the door open, but Leonard did it, sticking a Florsheim between the door and frame since he knew damn well he'd never be able to work a key. At that moment a door opened halfway down the hall and a man stepped out of a room.

'Can I come, Daddy?'

'I'm just going for ice. You stay with Mommy.'

'All alone?'

'She's in the bathroom…' The door closed and the man went down the hall in the opposite direction.

BOY

Leonard trundled down the hall on all fours, feeling rationality slipping away from him, knowing only that he had to find the boy, and not knowing what he would do when he did. He sat up on his hind legs in front of the room from which the man had come, and scratched on the door with the long nails of his forepaws.

'Tommy, see who that is!' came a voice from inside. Leonard scratched some more, heard a thumping, and realized that the boy was jumping up and down, trying to see through the peephole.

'Tommy?'

'Huh?'

'Who is it?'

'I dunno…' Tommy answered, obviously afraid to open the door. 'Just some man…'

Leonard felt something wiggle inside him, felt the clumsy bear thoughts begin to fade and be replaced by his own clear impressions.

Just some man…

God bless you, you little fucker, Leonard thought, shambling back to the door of his room, feeling himself get thinner and thinner, welcoming the chill, poorly heated hall air on his rapidly balding skin, and best of all, seeing his nose disappear.

And as he dashed through the door, a bear no longer, but a stark-naked man, he thought once more, God bless you, you weird little bastard, and I'm never gonna get near you again…

'Oh yeah, baby,' moaned Lisa, the woman he had met in the bar, 'you are somethin'…'

It was the usual patter, but tonight it sounded good, and he smiled as he thought how close he had come to doing it in front of a zoo audience. That kid, that weird little kid. Christ, if he hadn't said that to his mom about it being some man…

'Oh baby, oh God…'

He felt Lisa begin to convulse and speeded up. After they both shuddered for the last time, she collapsed on top of him. 'You are incredible. You are an absolute stud bull,' she said huskily, and in another moment he knew that it hadn't been the boy's fault after all.

As he struggled to extricate the tip of his right horn from Lisa's left earring, and heard the bed frame crunch beneath his weight, he thought that perhaps there was such a thing as being too adaptable.

DEMONLOVER Nancy A. Collins

Sina was restless. She couldn't squat in front of the television set and act as if nothing was wrong between the two of them. She finally decided to go out and catch some live music, shrugging off Mike's silent reproach. She knew she'd have to deal with his pouting when she came home, but she didn't care. She had to get out of the house or go mad.

As she pulled into the club's parking lot, she saw a man loitering in front of the building. He stood with his hands in his pockets, one leg drawn up, the boot heel resting against the doorframe. He was cool and he knew it. The wall behind him bristled with rusty staples like a buzz-cut porcupine. The bar's door was propped open, allowing the music to thump and crash its way onto the street.

As she drew closer, Sina saw he was tall and lean, with a handsomely muscled waist. His hair was blond and cut so it fell across his brow with practiced nonchalance. His eyes were electric blue, cold as witchfire. They were the eyes of a white tiger on the prowl.

Something detonated inside her. She grabbed the car's fender in order to steady herself. Excitement turned the oxygen in her lungs into ice crystals and helium.

A blond. Funny, she'd never been attracted to blonds before. She normally preferred dark men, the closer to the Mephistophelean ideal the better.

Her throat constricted into a dry tube and her ears filled with the sound of blood. She felt clumsy and ridiculous, but there would be no running away. The longing would not permit it. A horrible giddiness surged through her, just like the time she'd taken nitrous oxide at the dentist's prior to losing cavities.

Sina hesitated, digging into her pocketbook for the cover charge. She could feel his eyes flicker over her like lasers. She looked up, forcing herself to keep from trembling. He was studying her, his lips compressed into a flat, unreadable smile. His eyes were those of a debased angel, blue as Depression glass.

She averted her gaze and moved into the thundering dark of the club. She didn't have to turn to see if he was following her. She could feel his presence, as if she were joined to him by an invisible cord.

The club was close and smoky, the walls painted flat black in an attempt to create the illusion of space. The band was thrashing away on the stage, surrounded by a knot of wildly pogoing dancers. She wound her way to the bar and was startled to see him already lounging there. The only open space was at his elbow. Setting her jaw, she moved next to him and ordered a beer.

She had to fight to keep from gasping aloud when he shifted his stance. His hip rubbed against her like a tomcat. The beer bottle shook as she lifted it to her lips.

She had found him. It had to be him! The sexual arousal she experienced was so powerful it was almost unpleasant. Her crotch ached just looking at him. But what could she do about it? She wasn't drunk enough to simply swagger up and tell him to take her home and make her like it. She'd been out of circulation too long. She'd forgotten the anxiety and paranoia inherent in the mating ritual. What if he didn't want her? What if he was gay? The stainless-steel death's head leering at her from his earlobe didn't help matters either. As much as she loathed frustration, she feared rejection even more.

'I noticed you looking. See anything you like?'

For a moment she didn't realize he'd actually spoken to her. She blinked rapidly, as if startled from a daze. His face was inches from hers and she inhaled his musk, pleasantly redolent of masculine sweat. Her brain froze like a rabbit pinned by the headlights of an oncoming car.

He's bad news. You can tell by looking at him. No. On second thought, don't look at him. Don't do it. Don't say anything. Finish your beer and go home. That was the last she heard from her common sense.

All attempts at witty remarks and sly come-ons fled. Her prepared speech died in her throat. All she could do was answer with the truth.

'Everything.'

His name was Feral. He smiled when he said it. He pulled her onto the dance floor, his personality sinking its fingers into her will. Had he asked her to cut off her right hand, she would have gladly done it.

Every time he touched her she felt her skin tighten, as if a mild electric current had passed between them.