"Mary Janice Davidson - Betsy 01.5 - Dead Girls Don't Dance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Mary Janice)

Like that was a bad thing.

There were nights when it was tempting to stay on the beach, watch the sun come

up, die in fire and light and blazing agony, be done, be over, be still.

Be dead… for real.

At her feet, her supper gasped and thrashed and finally passed out. He was big

and dark and strong—had been strong—but she'd had no trouble taking him. His

kind went easy. They never thought the rabbit would turn into a fox; certainly

not before their very eyes. And even a fox didn't have teeth as long and as

sharp as hers.

She preferred to take men. She especially preferred men who bullied women. Cut

him from the herd, take him, and quiet that thirst inside her, that constant,

never-ending, hellish, unbeatable thirst.

Still, it was time to go. Her supper would recover and go home and not remember

a thing. She would find another meal tomorrow. At least she wasn't such a

mindless, insatiable newborn anymore. At least she could remember something

beyond the thirst.

Yes, time to go.

But still she lingered, and wept dry tears, and stared out at the water, and

wished she were dead. For real, this time.
Chapter 1



«^»

ANDREA sat up and coughed out a lungful of sand. The man crouched beside her

scrambled up and away, as if she had—imagine it!—come to life.

"Holy shit!" he cried. "I thought you were a corpse!"