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Runner

By: Daniellekitten



This is just something that got stuck in my head. It is a stand alone story but...if you enjoy it and want more, I could make it longer. Let me know. Danielle

* * *

By the dim light of the moon, he hunted. His strange but enigmatic eyes searched every shadow for sign of his quarry. She was smart, this one, but he knew he would have her in the end. He had each of them, in the end.

A twig snapped and he turned, surprised to find her there, a rock in her hand. He had time to take quick note of her appearance before she hit him in the temple, knocking him to the ground. One more sharp blow and his eyes closed, pitching him forward and into darkness.

* * *

When he woke, he found himself tied, his hands bound behind his back with the rope he'd brought to use on her. She'd somehow dragged him into a small cave, using vines and branches to close the opening. His head throbbed when he turned it, searching for her. 

Margaret Kathleen McGee sat huddled in front of a roaring fire, her brilliant green eyes drooping with fatigue. The tee shirt he'd given her to wear was stretched over her knees, tugged down so that she could hold it over her cold feet. She refused to look at him, refused to do anything but stare into the flames. 

"Maggie?" he croaked, his throat dry. He watched as she jumped at the sound of his voice, her eyes darting over to him and then just as quickly away. "Maggie, my head hurts," he said.

"It's what you deserve," she said shortly. "I should have killed you."

"Why didn't you?" he asked curiously. The answer didn't matter that much to him; his own death was nothing that frightened him. Living was what was difficult, and living with his curse was even worse.

"Because I don't know where I am. I don't know where you brought me. So you're going to take me home as soon as the sun sets. Then you're going to change me back before I take you to the cops, understand?"

"In what deluded universe do you live in that makes you think you can force me to do anything?" he said with a bark of laughter that hurt his head as much as it made her jump.

She pulled his hunting knife from the pack he'd been carrying. With a huge growl of rage, she leapt to her feet, rushing to where he lay, grabbing a hank of his long dark hair. She dragged his head back, pushing the lethally sharp blade against his skin. It bit, leaving a line of blood to drip beneath the blade.

"I'll do it," she growled, her eyes drawn to the line of blood. The thirst that had plagued her all night roared into being and she barely kept herself from lapping at his throat, reveling in the metallic taste of his blood. "What did you do to me?" she whispered in horror.

"I made you into one of me," he said, staring defiantly up at her. "I turned you into a soulless, dead creature. A blood sucking, narcissistic night walker just like I am. How does it feel?" he said with a laugh, causing more blood to spill down his neck and seep into the ground under him.

"You bastard!" she screamed, standing and jerking the knife away from his throat. "I thought you were one of the good guys. You helped me! You listened to me and all I'd been through and you helped me."

"I listened to you whine and cry about being dumped. It was rather boring, actually. You couldn't even get him to fuck you, all he wanted was your money." He wriggled his way into a sitting position, ignoring the sting from where the knife had cut into his throat. "Of course, I can see his reasons, look at you. Your hair is a mess, and what color is that, Pumpkin Orange? Those freckles are so thick you can barely see your nose. Did you parents ever take you to an orthodontist? I'm surprised that your fangs are even straight."

Maggie stared at the psychiatrist that had been recommended to her. Her eyes narrowed as his words shot arrows of pain into her heart. Doctor Chance Steeple had been her parents last ditch effort to help her. At first, going to his office had sent her into a tizzy of lustful cravings. Doctor Chance was a gorgeous specimen of manhood with long dark hair that he kept clubbed back into a tail. His silver eyes seemed to see into her soul and his smile...oh his smile had kept her floating for days.

Even better, he listened to her. He heard what she was saying, unlike the last shrink she'd seem. He'd been willing to let her talk while he took her parents' money and gave her drugs to keep her medically zoned. It hadn't helped her any when she'd grown addicted to the drugs and had to be detoxed because of an accidental overdose. 

But Doctor Chance, he listened and asked questions. He showed concern for her feelings and emotions. He smiled at her jokes and made her feel great just walking into his office.

Who'd have thought that this wonder doctor was nothing more than a blood sucking vampire, using his practice to find the little girls with the worst problems? He'd take them on a retreat, one at a time or in a group. Who cared if they didn't come back?

Her parents would. They knew where she was, they would be concerned if she didn't return or call to let them know where she was.

"Your parents will be shown your dead body, a terrible accident in the woods, even after I told you not to go into the woods after dark. You feel down a gorge and it took us forever to find you. That will explain all the bruises that I plan to put on you, Maggie, as well as the blood loss. I can hardly wait to rip open your throat and drain you dry."

"You fucking bastard," she hissed. "I was falling in love with you, with your lies and your falseness. I believed every word you told me."

"More's the pity," Chance said with a huge smile, showing his long fangs that he'd kept hidden from his patients and their families. "Of course, if you come over here and untie me, maybe I can force myself to fuck you once before I rip your fucking head off. Betrayal's a bitch, ain't it?" He grinned again, meeting her green gaze with his silver one.

"That's it, Maggie. Look deep. You're lost in my eyes, lost in my eyes," he said quietly. "Come to me, Maggie mine."

"Yes," she whimpered, taking the first tentative step toward him, his knife dropping from her hand and bouncing on a rock out of her reach. "Yes."

"You want to untie me," he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

"I want to untie you," she repeated, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to fight his control. But it was no use. She was a fledgling to a master, he had her and there was nothing she could do. She knelt beside him, grabbing the ropes and fumbling with the knots she'd made. It took twice as long as he wanted it to, but he kept up his control. When his hands came free, he rubbed his wrists then lifted her to her feet. "Take off that shirt."

"M-My shirt?" she asked even as her hands went to the hem. She began to slowly lift it above her head, exposing more and more of her soft creamy skin. Chance had lied when he said he didn't find her attractive. He found her entirely too attractive. More attractive than any of the others he'd brought out here to his retreat and killed.

He'd turned them all, laughing as they fought the thirst, fought the things that he wanted to do to them. Why should she be any different?

But she was. As he watched her pull the dirty once white tee shirt over her head, he felt his body stiffen with need. Suddenly the ground beneath him seemed too hard, too rough for her delicate skin. He couldn't take her here in this cave. "Very good, Maggie," he said softly in his 'how does that make you feel' voice. "Now, untie my feet."

She knelt naked before him, her hands reaching for the ropes that she'd tied around his ankles. Her fingers worked the stubborn knots, ripping a nail in the process. Blood dripped from her injured finger, blood that brought his head up, his nostrils flaring at the scent. Her blood was spicy, tied to his by her siring. 

Chance took her hand in his, staring down at the injured finger. He pulled the nail the rest of the way off, starting a fresh onslaught of bleeding. Lifting the soft digit to his lips, he wrapped his tongue around it, drawing it in. Her blood blossomed on his tongue, tasting better than even the most expensive wine. He could taste the slightly too sweet taste of it from her liver and the acrid taste of her fear. It was a heady combination, and suddenly he wondered who was in control of whom.

"I want you," he breathed around her finger, suckling gently as he waited for her answer.

Maggie stared down at the head bent over her hand. She could feel herself seeping back in around the cold edges of control he'd held on her. Her eyes widened, bright green, the pupils mere pin points. Slowly, her head began to shake, her body trembling with cold and fear. "No," she whispered.

Before he could lift his head again, capture her gaze in the silver light of his own, she grabbed the rock she'd hit him with before, bringing it down on his head once more.

Chance groaned, the pain amazing and rich. It was almost pleasure to the evil that lived inside of him. He fell to his hands and knees, reaching up just in time to grab her arm and stop her from hitting him again. "Enough," he growled, yanking her down next to him. "Once was bad enough."

"No," Maggie said with a fierce bravado. "It didn't kill you so once wasn't enough. Maybe I should open the door and let the sunlight in."

"Maybe you should," Chance said, rubbing his hand against the huge bump on the back of his head. "It's better than you trying to batter me to death with this little rock." He grabbed her hand, pulling open her fingers and tossing the rock away. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he jerked her down beneath him, flattening himself on top of her to keep her still.

"No!" she cried, struggling under him. "Stop it. You disgust me!"

One hand slid up her legs, forcing them apart until he reached the tender skin between her thighs. His fingers slid into wetness and heat, making him grin even as she turned her head away. "You can't look at me, Maggie?" he rumbled, his deep voice vibrating in his chest and against her breasts. "After all these months, we've been almost as intimate as two people can be. You've shared your thoughts, your secrets, your dreams with me. Now you're going to share your body."

Her head was shaking before he finished speaking. "No," she whimpered, his hand in her wetness denying the word. "I don't want you, you bastard. The only thing I want is you dead."

"Then you should have killed me when I was unconscious." He leaned down, nibbling on her neck with his sharp teeth, teasing the small marks where he'd bitten her before, the changing marks. These marks proved she was his and the thrill that went through him was unlike anything he'd felt before. The dark thing inside of him seemed to almost howl its joy, the human cried out in pain for he knew he'd feel bereft when this was done.

He played with her cunt, stroking his fingers over the fragile skin delicately, treating her like porcelain until she was squirming and begging under him, wanting him, wanting more.

Chance held her just at the edge, denying her that peak, his talented fingers finding her fragile opening and the hymen that was still intact. "So you didn't lie. He hadn't fucked you."

"No," she cried, wincing when he pressed against the thin barrier. "Don't, that hurts."

"This is the least of your problems," he said with a grin. When she tried to hit him, he grabbed her wrist, then the other, taking the rope that she'd used on him and tying them above her head. "It's nice of you though, to point out this cave to me. I didn't know it existed." Grabbing her chin with his hand, he turned her to face him. "God, you're so beautiful," he whispered before dropping his head down to kiss her.

Maggie resisted him for a moment, but something inside of her, something dark and evil that hadn't been there before, craved what he was doing. Soon she was thrusting her tongue inside of his mouth, kissing him back with all the passion in her young body.

Chance lifted his head, his eyes flaming. "You young ones are always the same, always full of passion that you deny because your parents think you should remain chaste and pure. You should ask how many of them made it to their wedding night intact."

"My mother made a virginity pact," Maggie growled. "Her four best friends signed their names in blood and promised to remain pure until their wedding nights. She showed me the pact they signed and the rings they exchanged for their vows."

"Yeah, and I bet three out of those four were hopping in the back seat the next night," he grinned, holding her hands above her head with one hand while he let the other slide down the side of her face and then her neck, his long slender fingers circling it. She was thin and fragile under him, his fingers reaching most of the way around her throat.

Her eyes grew wide when he tightened that hand, her heels drummed into the ground as she tried to struggle. He was too strong for her, even undead, she couldn't get away. He laughed when he released her. "You are just like the others. You're already dead, Gidget, you can't suffocate because you don't breathe. I could squeeze forever and all it would do would be to raise bruises that I don't want to have to answer for."

Maggie's eyes darkened and she felt tears fill them. It was the last thing she wanted him to see. She refused to cry in front of him. She cried out, his hand, icy cold, was against her breast, his palm rubbing circles over her nipple that had already hardened for him.

"Ah yes, do you know how many times I turned on the air conditioner and made it cold in my office so I could watch these little beauties bead up against those silk and satin shirts you so loved to wear. It was such a contrast, that pearl necklace and then the satin shirt with your nipples so hard under them. I knew how uncomfortable it made you. But that was only at first. Then you began coming to your appointments without a bra on. I could tell just by the way you would move, your breasts swaying just a bit under that satin, rubbing your nipples on it. You'd get aroused and then you'd squirm on that couch."

"Shut up!" she cried, trying not to hear his words though they reminded her of just how it had felt. The first time she'd felt his eyes on her breasts when she'd turned to look at him had surprised her, embarrassed her but it had also turned her on beyond anything she'd ever known. She'd barely made it out of his office before she'd run down to the ladies room, her hand sliding into her panties before she'd gotten the door to the stall closed.

She could remember how hard she'd climaxed with the memory of his eyes upon her. After that, it had gotten into an every visit kind of thing, something that was for her and her alone. She'd fantasized that instead of waiting, she'd pulled up her sensible, knee length skirt. She'd wear something scandalous or maybe nothing at all. Then she'd part her legs, watch his eyes as they followed her hand down to her pussy. Maybe he'd just watch or maybe he'd get up, a huge bulge in the front of his expensive suit pants and then he'd take her in his arms and make her a woman. God, the fantasies she'd had about that.

A low moan startled her and she quickly brought her thoughts back to the present. "Leave me alone," she whimpered.

"Now, now," he said. "You really don't want me to do that. What I'd like to know is what was little Maggie thinking about just a few moments ago. Were you remembering what it felt like to know my eyes were on your nipples while you were whining about how unfair life is? No," he said after a moment of staring into her eyes. "Let me in."

Maggie tried to deny him but his powers over her were too strong. In seconds, she was inside one of those fantasies and he was there too. "Now this is hot," he whispered, leaning back in his chair and watching as her long fingers yanked up her skirt as she lay on his leather couch. 

Her pretty red silk thong came into view, the front dipped into a vee, a small lace inset hiding her mons from his eyes. She turned and stared at him, her hand hesitating at the waist band of that thong.

"Don't stop on my account," he said with a lascivious grin. "Psychiatrist love role play. Whose hand is touching you, Maggie?"

She felt his hand down there, his fingers moving in her wetness again. "Yours, Doctor Steeple."

When she looked down though, she was surprised to see her own hand, her thong gone. "God, this is so embarrassing." Her face flushed and she turned her head away from him but she couldn't remove her hand. She was too far gone, needing to come.

"How does it feel?" he asked softly, turning in his chair to get a better view of her wet, pink flesh.

"So good," she groaned. "I'm so hot, Dr. Steeple."

"Unbutton your blouse," he ordered her, letting his pen and pad of paper fall onto the table as his other hand came up and started rubbing at the bulge of his cock. He watched as she did as he ordered, opening his pants to let his aching cock free. "Fuck girl," he growled, "fuck that's hot."

Her fingers quickly brought her to the edge of a peak, but she couldn't go any further. She turned desperate eyes toward him, only to find him gone, the office dissolving around her. Before she could wonder about it, a sharp pain stole away her breath and she looked up to see Chance above her, his cock pushing through the barrier of her virginity. The pain stole her pleasure, the feel of dirt and rocks beneath her bringing her back from that place in her mind.

She tried to stop him, but once more, her hands were tied above her head. Her legs were parted wide and she tried to use them to flip his body off of hers, but again, he was too strong, too determined to have his way. "Stop! Don't! I don't want this!" she cried.

Chance heard her words but didn't care. She was hot and tight around him, her virgin blood lubricating his cock. He thrust deep, hearing her screams. It was like a potent aphrodisiac, those screams, and he moved quicker, his mouth coming down on hers, biting at her lips.

Her blood pooled into his mouth and he opened his lips over hers, forcing her to drink some of her own blood, hearing her cry of disgust. "How does it feel?" he asked again, hearing her moans of pain as she scraped over the rocks. When she opened her eyes, he caught them in his gaze, pushing her back to the fantasy. He wanted her to come, it was so much more satisfying when they did. 

He loved the look of hurt, the pain of betrayal in their eyes when they realized that their own bodies had betrayed them. With Maggie it would be even more special. She'd loved him, he realized now. "You'd have come to me if I'd have asked you too, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," she whimpered. "Yes, I love you."

The human in him cringed at hearing those three little words. It wanted to pull out, to haul her into his arms and keep her with him forever. How long had it been since he'd heard those three words so freely given? Too long, the human in him decided.

The monster sneered. She was just nineteen, what did she know of love? He'd been around for millennia; he'd seen the birth of the King born from the lowly. He'd seen the crucifixion and had danced in glee at the pain he'd witnessed. This little girl knew nothing of love or any other emotion, but he'd teach her fear. He was a master at fear.

"What you know about love could fill a thimble," he growled. "You're just a naïve, pathetic little girl. No one will have you, you're lucky I was even able to get it up."

"Stop!" she cried, turning her face and hiding it against her shoulder. Her hips moved under his, she was still aroused despite his hurtful words.

"You're going to do it," he gasped, thrusting hard and rubbing up against her clit. "You're actually going to come." He pushed her harder, feeling her tense under him and the convulsions of her pussy around his cock. She screamed and he found her neck with his teeth, digging into her throat over the pounding of her pulse. Her blood squirted into his mouth with almost the same ferocity that his come splashed into her waiting cunt. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the evil that taunted him to rip and tear at her.


Runner



But in the end, the evil won out. He dug in harder with his teeth, hearing her cry then ripped his head back. Her flesh was in his teeth, thick and rich with her blood. He spat it away, staring down at her as awareness slowly left her beautiful green eyes.

Her blood pooled onto the dirt, soaking in. He pulled his deflated cock from her now dead pussy, staring down at her. Then with a sigh, he reached down and slowly closed her blank eyes, pushing away from her. The sun was beginning to set. He had a lot of work to do before he could return to his cabin and make the first call.

With one last sigh, he glanced back at her still body. "I love you, too."



Runner Ch. 02



I'm a glutton for punishement. This will be a short story, only a few chapters long, but I felt the need to write more of it. I hope you'll give it a chance. Thanks, Danielle. 

* * *

The crackle of brush startled him. Detective Tyler "Trip" Grant looked up, spotting the coroner pushing through the brambles and bushes to get to the body.

"Rumor is we've got another one," the coroner, Dr. Wendy Merritt said to the tall, good looking detective.

"I think that's something you should be telling me," Trip said, smiling grimly. He rubbed his fingers over his mustache and down over the small beard he kept trimmed around his mouth. It was something he did when he was thinking, that and running his hands through his dark hair until it stood around his head, giving him a half crazed look.

Wendy knelt next to the sprawled, naked body, her canny eyes noting every detail. "Female, age somewhere between 17 and twenty-one. Left naked. Body was dumped, no staging apparent." She reached out with one gloved hand, lifting the girl's chin so she could see her throat. "Ugh, yeah, we've got another one. Throat was torn out and I'm almost positive cause of death will be exsanguinations." 

"But it didn't happen here," Trip said, a statement not a question.

"Nope, no blood pool, only marks of disturbance on the body is from whoever dumped her. No identification?"

"Oh yeah," Trip joked. "It was in her front pocket."

"Smart ass," Wendy snorted. "I'll take her in and mark her special processing. That will hold her until I come back on shift tonight."

"You can't do the post before you leave?"

"Trip, it's Cale's birthday. If I don't leave on time, I'll never be able to wake up to make his favorite dinner. I know this is high priority, and if you'd rather have someone else do it so you can get it fast, so be it. I'll have Chang do her when he comes in."

"No, I want you on it." Trip ran his hands through his hair again, staring at the body. "It's just, this is number six and I have no clues, no ideas, no suspects. The only thing we know is that each of the past victims had been seeing Dr. Steeple before they disappeared. That smarmy bastard has air tight alibis for every murder."

Wendy stood, glancing around the scene. No one was paying attention to them. "You'll get him, Tyler. You know you will. It's just a matter of time." She laid her hand on his arm, feeling the lean muscles tense under her touch.

"It's been two weeks, Wendy. Can't you find a sitter for the kids and come to my place for a couple of hours this morning?" Trip asked, his voice pitched low. "I miss you." His hand stroked over her cheek before dropping back to his side, but the small gesture spoke volumes.

"They go with their father this weekend, Trip," she said as quietly. "Can't you and your libido wait until then?"

"Will you come and stay with me?" he asked, wishing he had the nerve to bend and kiss her sweet lips.

"I'm working Friday but if you can wait until Saturday..." she let her voice trail off. "I'll wear the pink outfit you like."

A mental image of Wendy, with her pert little breasts and her slender hips in the tiny pink bra and panties with matching garter belt and thigh high stockings had parts of him standing at attention. Of course, she noticed, laughing and patting the front of his pants. "I can see that's a yes."

"That's a definite yes," he grinned. "When are you going to move in with me so we don't have to sneak around anymore? You know your kids adore me and my place is twice the size of yours."

"We'll have this conversation this weekend," she hissed, waving her guys in so that they could pick up the body. She watched as the spread the tarp onto the ground next to her, lifting her nude form and turning her upright on the plastic. They bent to start to wrap her up, mummy like so that no evidence on the body would be lost but Wendy stopped them, stooping to unbend the dead girl's fingers and plucking something from her grip. She held her hand out to Trip, feeling him place an evidence bag in her hands.

"We've got hair," she said softly, looking up. "If there are tags attached, like I'm betting there are, we'll have the killer's DNA. Seems this one was a fighter and brought us a piece of her killer with her."

"Good girl," Trip said. He reached his hand out for the envelope, tucking it into his pocket. "I'll get this into the lab. Good eyes, Wendy."

"Thanks," she said, waiting until her guys had finished packaging up the body and placing it into the body bag before lifting up on her toes to kiss Trip's cheek. "Later," she whispered.

"Definitely." Trip watched as the crime scene unit scurried in like ants and began to work the scene. Then his eyes shifted to the jeans that Wendy was wearing and the way they fit her body, moving seductively as she walked away from him.

He'd been attracted to her from the very first moment he'd laid eyes on her in the morgue at the hospital. She'd looked like an angel, with her curly blonde hair framing her delicate features, her blue eyes shining up at him from thick, lush lashes. Her looks had been at such odds with the job she did, dealing with death every day in all its myriad of forms, some so gruesome it caused him to squirm a bit. 

But not Wendy. She dealt with them all, treating each body as if that person were her friend. She gave them respect and dignity at a time when most of their dignity was gone. That alone had attracted him enough to want to take her to dinner. But it had taken him months before she'd go out with him and then weeks after that for her to see him as anything but a colleague. 

Trip could still remember their first kiss and how she'd tasted. She was like sweet, hot honey when aroused and the little sounds she made when he caressed her breasts had driven him crazy. He'd been so eager for her, he'd almost taken her in the front seat of his car. Instead, he'd pulled open her jeans, exposing soft satin and even softer skin. His fingers had found her wet, hot, needy with her flesh throbbing. 

He could feel himself hardening now as he thought of how he'd pleasured her, outside of her small apartment that was in the top floor of a two story house. She'd come on his fingers, he'd been able to feel her contractions even as his mouth found hers.

Afterward, he could remember how flushed she'd been and then the next day, her eyes had met his shyly as if he held a deep dark secret about her. She'd surprised him, coming to his apartment a few hours before he had shift.

Wendy had knocked on his door wearing a trench coat, heels and nothing else. When he opened the door, she'd pushed him back, fastening her mouth to his until he slammed the door behind them and pushed her against the wall. She'd been like a wild cat, ripping at his tee shirt, driving him to madness. Showing little care for her, he'd pushed aside everything he had on a side table, laid her on it and had driven his cock hard into her sopping pussy.

They'd ended up on the floor, him on his back, her riding him hard, making him come until he felt as if he'd been turned inside out.

Now every time was different and he was in love. Tyler thought of the ring he'd bought, the ring that sat in his night table waiting for the perfect moment. A rush of excitement filled him; maybe this weekend was the right moment.

"Detective?"

The voice dragged him out of his reverie. "Yeah?" he answered, turning to see one of the techs waving him over. "Whatcha got?"

"Shoe print," she said, dragging the silver sided mold out of her case. She sat it carefully around the print, pulling out a can of hair spray and delicately sending short spurts of the stuff over the print to lock it in place. Then she grabbed a package of the quick drying plaster, hitting the bag with her fist to break open the water package inside so that she could mix the plaster in the bag. When it was poured, she stood up.

"I'd say he was a size eleven. This print was heading to the body. The heel impression is deep. I'd say he was carrying her. I'd like to find one of him leaving the scene to compare it to but this is a start."

"Great job," Trip said. "Let me know if you find anything else. I've got a psychiatrist I have to see." 

* * *

Trip sat in his car, watching the doctor's downtown office. In his hands he held a file folder containing crime scene photos. There was one in particular that bothered him but he wasn't sure why. The picture showed the body, in the same position as the others, but her hair had blown back, showing two small puncture wounds at the base of her neck. The wounds were healed but they nagged at him

They almost looked like someone had taken a roasting fork and stuck her in the back of the neck with it. He made a note to have Wendy check those out better. Maybe it would be the clue that would wrap up this case.

He looked up in time to see a familiar figure slip into the shaded doorway of the doctor's office, unlocking it quickly and going inside. "About time, doc. I was beginning to think you're hiding from me." Tucking the pictures back into the file, he opened his car door and stepped out. Traffic was horrible at this time of day and he almost got hit by a cabbie breaking every speed law possible and wheeling through traffic. With a shout, he slapped his hand down on the hood, glaring at the man inside.

Then he was at the front doors of the office and pushing it in.

* * *

Chance heard the sound of horns blowing and glanced up, staring out the window in his office and seeing the familiar figure of the detective as he made his way across the street. "Shit," he said softly. They'd found Maggie's body, that was the only reason that Detective Grant would be here. He'd thought he'd have a few more days to prepare. Maggie's death was affecting him strangely and he wasn't sure how detached he was going to be able to be.

"I should affect you," Maggie said, staring at him with dead eyes from the chair across from his desk.

"You aren't here," he hissed. "You can't be here."

"Are you sure?" she asked, those three words sending shivers of fear through him.

There was a knock on his door and he called out, tearing his eyes from Maggie's nude body and bloody, torn out throatd. "It's not locked, come in."

"Dr. Steeple? Might I have a few moments of your time?"

"Detective Grant," Chance said, rising as he came toward his desk and holding out his hand. "I hope this visit doesn't herald another body."

"I'm afraid it does, doc," Trip said. He took the man's hand, feeling the roughness of his calloused skin. He didn't feel like a shrink, he didn't act like one and he sure as hell didn't dress as one. 

The tall doctor was dressed in jeans that clung to his body. Old and faded, like a dear friend, they clung to his thighs and his ass in ways that were almost indecent. Over them, he wore a soft button down shirt, the hint of a tank top under it. 

He was a good looking man and didn't seem old enough to hold all the degrees that decorated his wall. He was published, doing both psychiatry articles and fiction novels. He had a shelf that held his books in hardcover and showed him hob knobbing with the big wigs. 

There were enough big wigs on that wall to make even a cynic like him sit up and take notice. "I need you to look at some pictures, doc."

"I can do that," Chance said, working hard on staying detached. If the good detective gleaned even a clue of his true self, he would have to be dealt with. While Chance didn't mind feeding and killing off of men, he preferred women and the pleasure he could give and take from them.

He sat back down behind his desk, offering the detective a cool beverage before they started. Reaching into a small fridge he kept stocked with bottles of water and fruit juices, he pulled out a cold bottle of water and held it out to Trip. "Would you like a glass? Ice?"

"No, just a name," Trip said, sitting in the same chair that Maggie had just been in and pulling a good picture of the girl's face out of the folder, before sliding it in front of Chance.

Chance picked it up, cursing silently as his hand shook. "Maggie McGee," he said softly. "Yes, she's one of mine. I took her and three other girls up to my property up north for a retreat this passed weekend. She came up missing one night at bed check. I make sure my nurse checks each girl to be sure she isn't wandering around." He slid the photo back to Chance. "I'm taking by your presence here, it wasn't an accident."

"What happened to her was anything but an accident. I'm going to need to know names, doc, of the girls you took up there and any staff you have as well."

"The staff I can give you, Detective, but you know I can't give you the names of my patients. Doctor/patient privacy laws," he said with a shrug.

"I can get a court order for those names, Doctor," Trip said, letting a little of the fury he was feeling leak into his tone.

"You do that, detective and then I'll be more than happy to help you." Chance rose from his seat and went around his desk. "I'll have my receptionist give you the names of the staff I keep up at my retreat," he said, waiting for Trip to rise. "Bring back that court order and my files are your files."

"I'll do that, doc," Trip said, rising and holding out his hand again. "Thanks for your cooperation." He started to walk out past the man but stopped. "Where were you when the girl went missing?"

"W-what?" Chance asked, cursing the stammer in his voice.

"Where were you when Maggie went missing?" Trip asked again, pressing.

"I was with one of my nurses," Chance said easily. "Kelsey and I are seeing each other as well as working together. It might not be the smartest things I've done, but I actually couldn't seem to help myself. When you talk to her, I'm sure you'll understand why."

"And she'll back your story, that you were with her when Maggie went missing?"

"It's not a story," Chance said, growing a trifle angry. "It's the truth."

"Seven girls, doc. I've got seven girls murdered, their throats ripped out, blood drained and then the bodies left all over the city. Besides the cause of death, the only thing these girls have in common are you. Can you tell me what that is?"

"No, I wish I could." Chance went back and sank down behind his desk. "I've been wracking my mind trying to figure out if there was someone out there that would do this to get to me. I can't come up with anyone."

"What about in your current patient list? You know if you've been given information that can help my case, it is your legal duty to inform me."

"I work with mostly girls, detective. Some of them have been severely traumatized. Some of them just need someone who will listen to them without judging them. None of them are capable of doing what is being done to those poor girls. Now, as I said, bring back a court order for my patient files and I'll be more than happy to help you out, otherwise, I have a patient due in any time."

"You do keep some weird hours, doc."

"I schedule my patients for when they can come in, some of them are in school and can't schedule anything earlier. Besides, I'm something of a night owl." Chance rested his elbows on his desk and let his chin drop down on his palm. He studiously avoided looking at the chair across from his desk. He could see her wide, beautiful grin out of the corner of his eyes. "Now, if there is nothing else..."

"I'll be back," Trip said softly. 

Chance nodded and watched the man leave through the door specially designed so that his patients could keep their privacy and leave that way to avoid other patients arriving. He waited a few minutes then deliberately turned to face the specter of Maggie McGee. "Get out of my head."

"But why should I?" she asked. "It's much nicer than being with my body right now. They are doing the autopsy. Tell me, Chance, will you find me as attractive when I have a big scar across my body that will never heal?"

"You're dead, stay dead," he growled. "Go the fuck away."

Her laughter filled the room even as she left it. He almost missed hearing the knock on his door. "Come in!" he called shakily.

"Dr. Steeple?"

"Monica, come in. Now you know, you're supposed to call me Chance in the office."

Monica, a small, pretty much nondescript teenager with braces upon her teeth and a rash of acne across her forehead came into the room with a huge smile upon her face. "Yes, Chance," she said, sinking down on the low black couch.

Chance grinned, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. "You look nice today, Monica. Something's different. Did you get your hair cut?" He sat, listening to her rattle on for a few moments before glancing over at the chairs again. Maggie was gone.

"I've been thinking, Monica," he said when she wound down. "It might be of benefit to you to come out to my retreat. I have a group of girls going next weekend. I'll mention it to your parents."

"I'd like that," Monica said. 

"Good, good. Now where did we leave off at in our last session?"

* * *

Wendy hurried in, her bag over her arm, in her hands the rest of the cake from her son's birthday party. He'd loved every minute of it, she thought, smiling.

Chang looked up as she entered the morgue, putting the wrapped cake on her desk in her office. "Cale's party went well?" he called.

"Oh yeah. I brought in some cake if you'd like a piece." She slipped out of her coat, pulling a white lab coat on over her pale green scrubs. "What've we got?"

"Boating accident. Guy was in a rubber raft fishing. His line got caught in the props of another boat. Instead of dropping his gear, he let it take him under." 

Wendy stared at what was left of the man. The props had done a great deal of damage, slicing into his face and throat as well as into his chest, abdomen and groin. She stopped there, staring at the raw and angry flesh. "Is that a scar?" she said, pointing to his groin. "It almost looks like he was fixed, permanently."

"I was just getting to that. Check out the wounds, no bruising or bleeding to speak of. I think our victim was dead before he went under the boat."

Wendy picked up a hand held metal scanner and turned it on, slowly panning her hand over the mangled flesh. A beep rewarded her actions and she sat down the scanner, holding her hand out to Chang for a scalpel. Seconds later, a bullet landed in the silver tray he handed her. "You're boating accident is now a homicide," she said with satisfaction.

She pulled off the rubber gloves she'd donned and sat them on the tray to be counted along with the rest. Pulling on a fresh pair, she moved toward the drawers where they kept the bodies, pulling out the one where Maggie McGee, identity now confirmed, was located. She hadn't been touched, still wrapped in the plastic her guys had put her in.

Easily transferring her to a rolling table, Maggie slowly unwrapped the plastic. The girl's pretty face and wealth of dark red gold hair came into view. She was streaked with the dirt from the clearing where she'd been found. Wendy picked up a small magnifying glass, using it to check out Maggie's skin, searching for needle marks or inconsistencies. She lifted trace from the body, bagging it before moving the dead girl to the wash table.

Chang helped her, lifting her onto the table and then taking the silver cart away. The plastic would be folded carefully to preserve any trace that fell off the body and sent to the CSI lab. Grabbing her sponge and a small bottle of heavy duty soap, Wendy began the long task of cleaning the girl so that her wounds might be more easily seen.

"She's been through hell," Chang said softly, staring at the bruises on her wrists and ankles. There were bite marks on the body. "Those don't look like any animal bites I've ever seen," he said, lifting his camera and taking pictures of every bite. He took overalls of her body and then zeroed in on her wrist and ankles, cataloging the rope burn.




Runner Ch. 02



"It's just too bad she can't talk to us and tell us who took her," Chang said as he assisted Wendy.

"That's what the evidence that we collected is for. It'll tell us just as much as she could." Wendy bagged a brown colored bead that she pulled from the body. Then she took anal, vaginal and oral swabs, swabbing her nostrils and ears as well. Lifting her hands, one at a time, she scraped deposits from under the girl's nails. "She got some of her attacker." 

"Good, I hope she popped his eyes out." Chang took the envelope she handed him, writing the girl's name and the case number on the front before setting it with the others. "Nobody should be treated the way this girl was."

An hour later, when Wendy was through with her post, she couldn't help but agree. She was reciting her findings into a recorder to be transcribed when Trip pushed through the double doors. She clicked off the recorder. "Hey you," she said in way of greeting. "Haven't you even been home yet?" He was wearing the same clothes she'd seen him in this morning. "You're well on your way to a triple, aren't you?"

"Well, if some Dr. Hottie would come home with me and wear me out so I don't see dead girl's faces in front of my eyes every time I close them, I would. What did you find?"

"It's the same guy. She was raped and killed like the others. The only difference in this one, she was a virgin. The guy's also got the same creepy sperm. It's almost as if they were frozen before he ejaculated them into her. Also, what day did you say she was reported missing?"

"Wednesday, a week ago. Why?"

"My findings say that she was dead since Wednesday sometime. These sperm and those injuries to her body happened late Thursday to early Friday morning."

"Baby, dead girls don't bruise."

"You know that, I know that but I think someone should have told Maggie that. Her hymen was torn and she bled, not just a little, while she was being raped. She also has one nail that was torn off, the blood was smeared on her finger, as if someone had tried to lick it off. I took a swab of the area and sent it to your crime lab. This girl is a mass of contradictions."

"Do you at least have a cause of death?"

"Massive blood loss, there was perhaps a half of a pint of her blood left in her body when she was dumped. I had enough to get samples and send them to the lab as well. Tyler, somehow your girl over there was killed on Wednesday and was still walking, talking and bleeding on late Thursday to early Friday morning."

"How is that possible?" Trip asked, running his hands through his hair.

"It isn't, not logically. Illogically? I think you're looking for a vampire."



Runner Ch. 03



Chance stared at the ceiling in his office, trying to ignore the wraith that seemed determined to drive him more insane then he considered himself all ready. Maggie sat in the same chair she had earlier, a smile on her face as she hummed the same obnoxiously sweet tune over and over.

"Why?" he asked finally, throwing his hands up in the air. "How many fucking times do I have to kill you before you'll leave me alone?"

"Technically, you killed me twice. I don't think it's possible for you to do it again." Maggie sat forward, her breasts pressed together between her arms, her nipples hard and pointed at him. "This isn't my fault, you know."

"What, the fact that you're trying to drive me crazy?"

"Chance, you and I both know that you already are crazy. Quit lying to yourself that this is my fault. You are the one whose subconscious has conjured me up. It's easy, if you want me to go, just go stake yourself outside and enjoy a few hours of sunrise. That should do the job, shouldn't it?"

"You know, you were an insipid bitch in life and in death you're just ... fucking annoying. Go away, I have another patient and I don't need to be caught talking to an empty chair." Chance stood, deliberately turning his back on Maggie.

"Oh? Who is it now? Anyone that I know?"

"Why do you care?"

Maggie tilted her head, the question seeming to take her aback. "Hmm, I don't know," she said honestly. "I guess I really don't but still, go ahead and answer the question anyway."

"Cassie Stanton," Chance said, growling at Maggie. "Happy?"

"Is she next?"

"Next?"

"To become you're next meal?" Maggie asked.

"And if she is?" Chance snapped.

"Hmm, I'm just wondering how crowded it will get in here," she said with a smile.

Chance glared at her. He was so wrapped up in what she had to say that he almost missed the light, almost breezy knock on the door to his office. "Shut up," he hissed at her. "Just shut up and leave me alone."

"That's entirely up to your subconscious," she said with a grin. When he whirled around to snap at her again, she was gone.

Chance breathed a sigh of relief and went to the door to answer it. "Cassie?" he asked of the pretty teenager.

"Yes, Dr. Steeple. My parents will be right in, they had to park the car."

"Wonderful. That'll give us a few minutes to get to know each other. Come in and sit down." He held the door open wider, waving his hand in invitation.

"Anywhere special you want me, doc?" Cassie asked, turning and flipping her hair over her shoulder. She gave him a coy look and Chance couldn't help but grin back. There was nothing wrong with this girl that a thick cock and the taste of a whip wouldn't cure.

"Wherever you feel most comfortable," he said, waving toward the grouping of furniture that was in a far corner, away from his wide desk. "The couch or the chairs, I try not to be cliché."

Cassie sauntered over to the couch, sitting down and crossing her long legs. They were bare, tanned and muscular.

"I saw you at my school," she said into the silence.

"Which school is that?" Chance asked, coming over to sit in his usual chair.

"Chelsea High School. I'm a senior."

"And a cheerleader," Chance said, a statement not a question.

"How did you ..."

"Your legs," Chance said with a leering grin that he didn't try to hide from her. "You have gorgeous legs."

Cassie glanced down, holding one leg up a bit as if she were studying it. "Thank you, Dr. Steeple."

"You're welcome, Miss Stanton," he said just as another knock came upon the door to his office. "That would be your parents." He rose, feeling better than he had since the detective had come into his office earlier. "I'll just go let them in."

Cassie nodded, her grin growing wide. She looked as if she were enjoying herself. As Chance let her parents in the office and introduced himself, she took the opportunity to glance around his office. There was a picture on the wall, a photograph of a group of girls posing for the camera in front of a log cabin. In the background she could see a hint of blue, like a lake or a pond. But it was the girls that caught her interest.

There were six of them and as she watched, the picture seemed to almost come to life, the girls started horse playing and picking on one particular girl. They knocked her to the ground, holding her down while another girl came to stand above her head. As Cassie watched, she lifted her skirt, showing off tanned thighs and a bush of dark red hair. 

"Cassie?" Chance called. "Come and join us?"

Cassie nodded and glanced back at the picture, staring at the girls who were now back in their original pose before turning away. Her parents made room for her on the couch with them, but she headed for the other chair, sinking down into the soft leather and crossing her legs again.

"So what seems to be the problem, as you see it?" Chance asked Cassie's mom, an older version of her daughter with the same gorgeous hair and face, though her body was more in full blossom and not tight and lithe like Cassie.

"We're worried about Cassie, Dr. Steeple," she said, blushing under the doctor's strange eyes. "She's gone through some drastic changes in the past sex...I mean six weeks. Her grades are going down hill and the way she's going, she's going to lose the scholarship she worked so hard to get. We're hoping maybe you could find out what's wrong and then help us fix it."

"Does Cassie see that something is wrong?" Chance asked, turning to look at the girl seated next to him. He jumped just a bit for Maggie was sitting on the arm of Cassie's chair, staring down at the pretty girl.

There was such a marked contrast between the two. Cassie with her clean clothes and beautiful skin, her long hair pulled up into a ponytail seated next to Maggie, her naked body streaked with dirt and grime, her throat torn out, the flesh pink and wet looking. Maggie was stroking Cassie's head with her dirty hand, blood dripping from one of her fingers.

"Is there something wrong?" Cassie asked, even as a drop of Maggie's blood landed upon her pristine cheek, trailing down like a tear.

"No," Chance said quickly, shifting in his chairs. He forced himself to look at Cassie, ignoring that red tear and the one that touched her other cheek as well. "I'm fine. Why don't you tell me, Cassie, what you think is wrong with the things that are happening in your life."

"What could be wrong?" Cassie said with a shrug. "Everything is so planned out for me, I'm surprised I'm allowed to have conversations outside my parent's hearing. They've told me what high school courses to take, what extra curricular activities I should participate in, even who they think I should date. It's all about being structured, Doctor. Structure is important for children, don't you think?"

"Now Cass," her father spoke up. "It's not as bad as that. We just want to make sure you're on the right track to a healthy future. What with the way the government has screwed this country up, teenagers aren't going to have an easy go of it in the future." He looked to his wife, who nodded her head in agreement.

"We just want what's best for you, Cassandra."

Chance wanted to roll his eyes but he kept himself under control. He almost lost that control when he turned his head to say something to Cassie and saw Maggie on her knees in front of the girl, her hands on Cassie's breasts. She was molding the firm flesh under the now stained white shirt. Cassie must have been able to feel something because her nipples were hard little points and she was clenching those gorgeous legs together, the muscles moving rhythmically under her skin. She'd put her hands on the arms of the chair and had her head back against the soft leather, her eyes half closed, her lips parted.

She looked as if she were but seconds away from an overwhelming orgasm. A small moan came from between her parted lips and Chance heard the outraged gasps of Cassie's parents. "What the hell are you doing?" her father shouted.

"Hmm, coming if you'd shut up for a moment," Cassie purred, not in the least phased by what was happening.

Her words shocked both of her parents back into their seats and they stared at her in a kind of horrified trance as Cassie whimpered loudly then a shiver ran through her lovely body and her legs fell apart, giving everyone a glimpse of her wet panties.

"Do you see what we mean?" her mother asked Chance. "Can you help her?"

"Yes," Chance said, clearing his throat and trying to control his cock that was hard and throbbing. "I can help her but it's going to take a lot of work. I'm going to want to see her twice a week." He reached into a drawer of the table next to his chair and pulled out a prescription pad quickly scrawling across it. "She'll need to take these, twice a day. It's nothing, really," he said as he handed the script to Cassie's mother. "Just something to make her just a bit less unrestrained."

"Thank you, Doctor Steeple," she said, pressing her fingers against Chance's and letting her middle finger brush along his palm. 

"It's part of the job," Chance said quickly, glancing at Mr. Stanton. His eyes were on his daughter who'd sat up now though her panties were still exposed. "Make an appointment for Cassie with my receptionist," he said, standing up to usher them out. "We'll get it sorted out."

Mr. Stanton grabbed Cassie's arm in a no nonsense grip and pulled her out of the chair. "We'll stop on the way home and get that filled," he said to his wife. Chance opened the door for them, letting them back out in his waiting room so that they could make Cassie's appointments. Closing the door tightly, he turned to see Maggie sitting on his desk, her feet swinging.

"What the fuck do you think you were doing?" he growled.

"Turning you on," she said, jumping down and sauntering over to Chance. "Look at this, I'm surprised Mrs. Cassie didn't jump you."

"I'm surprised Mr. Cassie didn't jump her," Chance growled. "You've got to go away, Maggie. Please," he begged. "I don't know how much more I can handle."

She just giggled, swinging around him to skip back over to his desk and hop back on it. All the while she hummed that same obnoxiously sweet tune until he thought he'd go mad. When the knock came on his door, he snapped. "What!"

It opened just a bit and his receptionist poked her head in. "I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving, Dr. Steeple. Cassie Stanton was your last appointment for the day."

He nodded, managing to grunt out a thank you before she closed the door.

As soon as it was closed, he turned a heated glare to where he'd last seen Maggie.

She was gone.

"Thank you," he sighed to whatever deity was listening. Then he sank down on his couch, leaning against the back with another long sigh. He was hungry. His body was beginning to cramp with the need to feed. He would satisfy that hunger, but first and more importantly, he had to relax.

* * *

Trip's eyes opened slowly and he let out a long sigh of pleasure, the mouth around his cock only suckled him deeper.

Mouth around his cock?! He sat up, seeing the familiar blonde head bobbing over his groin. Settling back, he propped his head on his arms and watched as Wendy pleasured him. "Oh God girl, you can wake me like this anytime," he groaned, feeling her draw him closer and closer to climax with her talented mouth and wicked tongue.

She hummed her agreement, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure through him. His hand dug into her hair, not guiding her, just wanting to touch her. He could feel her tongue stroking along the underside of his cock, swirling around the sensitive head, teasing the tiny slit in the center. "Do you want me to come?" he growled.

Wendy nodded her head, suckling even harder. Trip groaned, it'd been so long since they'd been able to find time together he felt like he was on a hair trigger. That trigger was pushed when Wendy took a deep breath, taking him deep into her throat and holding him there. With a grunt, he lifted his hips to push deeper, filling her throat with his spunk.

She swallowed and then swallowed again, each time caressing his shaft with her soft throat muscles. Trip didn't know how many times he filled her mouth with his seed, only that when it was done, he could barely find the energy to lift his head. 

She sucked him clean, finally pulling off of him to lay her head on his hard thigh. "I've missed you," she said softly, running her hand up his stomach to his chest. He grabbed it, tangling his fingers with hers.

"You wouldn't have to if you'd move in with me," he said, pulling on her hand until she lay across his chest. His lips found her forehead and she closed her eyes in pleasure.

"What kind of example would that be to my kids, Trip? Oh look, mommy's living in sin with Uncle Trip. They're having all kinds of sex and burning up the sheets every night. That means that I can do it too." She gasped when he suddenly rolled with her, leaving her under his weight while he leaned across the bed and went into his nightstand. "Trip, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Sit here," he said, positioning her on the side of the bed and taking a moment to enjoy the way she looked in the pink outfit she'd promised to wear. His eyes were heated as he stared at her, but he seemed to shake it off, getting on his knee next to the bed.

"I understand that respectability is a big thing for you, especially after what happened with the kids' father. I think you know how I feel about you. But if not, I think it's well past time that I spelled it out for you. I love you, Wendy Merritt. I've been in love with you since I think that very first crime scene where you railed at me for touching the body before you got there." He glanced down at the blue box he held in his hand, holding it out to her.

Wendy took it, staring at it and him with a curious frown. Opening the lid, she took the velvet box out and flipped up the lid.

The diamond inside had her gasping. Her hand came up to her throat and she looked up at him. "What is this?"

"What do you think it is?" he asked nervously. He was good at reading body language but hers was all over the board. "I want you to marry me."

"Marry you?"

"Yes, Wendy. Marry me. At least I do when you can get rid of the trained parrot act. What do you say?"

"I-I..." she paused and took a deep breath. "Yes," she said, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "Yes, I'll marry you."

A big grin slowly spread across his handsome face and he lifted the box with the ring out of her hand, pulling it out of the box and slowly slipping it on her ring finger on her left hand. It fit perfectly on her long, slender fingers, sparkling in the light of the sun coming in the open window. "You know, this means that I'll want to be a father to Cale and Katie."

"You do?"

"Oh yes. I love your kids, Wendy. They love me, why wouldn't I want to make it official?"

"Official?" she repeated.

"There's that parrot again," he teased softly. "I want to adopt them, if you'll agree. I'd like them to have my name and accept me as their father."

Wendy threw herself off the bed and into his arms, hers going around his neck. "I love you, Trip," she whispered for the first time, finally feeling as if she could tell him.

"Say it again," he ordered, lifting her face so he could look into her pretty eyes.

"I love you," she repeated, watching as his face broke into a huge grin before his mouth found hers. He rose, easily bringing her with him as his mouth moved over hers, eager for her taste and the heat of her mouth.

"Does this mean we can finally quit hiding?" he asked when he tore his mouth away from her. "I can finally tell off those assholes that won't stay out of your morgue?"

"Those are bodies," she said with a giggle that he found completely adorable. "But yes, you can tell whoever you want." She lifted her hand. "I think it will be pretty obvious when people get a look at this rock."

"Just don't leave it in a dead body," Trip teased before he lifted her in his arms and dropped her down on the bed. Quickly following her down, he reached behind her to remove the pink bra, pulling it off her arms. With a smack of his lips that made her laugh again, he found her nipple, drawing it deep into his mouth.

His tongue lapped at the taut treat, hearing her gasp. Suckling hard, he heard her groan, her hands coming up to dig into his hair, holding him to her. "God yes, Trip," she moaned, her hips moving against his. He could feel the cool satin of her panties against his cock, the hot, wet flesh under them making such a wonderful contrast against his skin. His hand slid over her other breast, molding the soft flesh before sliding further down over her stomach to slip under her satin panties.

The softness of her curls heralded the sweetness of her slit and he pressed his fingers deep, determined to return some of the pleasure she'd given him earlier. She moved under him, her cries of pleasure ringing in his ears as he teased the hardness of her clit. He loved her unabashed moans and cries, knowing that he wrung every last one of them from her.

Her legs were opened wide, her lush lips parted even as she grabbed for his shoulders, hanging on to him, for he was the only stable thing in her world of whirling colors and exotic sensations. He was so good at making her feel this way. He knew every button to push, every spot to touch that would drive her toward an even harder and wilder orgasm.

Wendy cried out as he pushed two fingers into her, her sex convulsing around them. Pleasure swam through her veins, pulsing from her pussy, causing her arms and legs to tighten around him. "Fuck me," she cried helplessly. "Please, Tyler, make me come." 

"My pleasure," he growled, leaning down and grabbing the top of her panties with his teeth. He pulled them off, leaving her legs covered in silky nylons, her feet still encased in the black spiked heels she wore with her outfit. "God, Wendy you look so hot."

"Do I look fuckable?" she teased.

"Oh yeah," Trip grinned. "Of course, you never look more fuckable than when you're in your white lab coat."

"You're crazy," she laughed, groaning when he fell on her, his cock pushing between her thighs.

His strokes were slow, deep, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting deep again. Wendy wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels clicking together as he moved over her. "God, you feel so damn good," he groaned.

She clung to him, undulating under him. Her whimpers grew to cries of delight as he moved quicker over her. Trip leaned down, finding her nipple and suckling it into the heat of his mouth again. She arched her back, offering the other nipple as well.  

"Don't stop," she pleaded. "Please baby, don't stop."

"Never," he muttered, going to the other nipple, his fingers coming up to play with the one his mouth just deserted. He could feel the beginning of her orgasm in the fluttering muscles that drew at his cock. Her body ached against his, her head fell back onto the pillow and she seemed to forget how to breathe. A low cry came from her lips and her hands turned into claws, digging into his hips as she tried to pull him against her harder.

"God! God!" she cried before relaxing into the bed.

But Trip wasn't finished, pulling away, he flipped her onto her stomach, lifting her hips and tucking his knees behind hers. Slowly he pushed back in, watching as her body took his cock until he was fully buried inside of her. His hand came down on one rounded cheek of her ass and he watched the flesh jiggle as a red outline of his hand appeared on her flesh.

Wendy groaned at the pain pleasure. Her body seemed almost to be shorting out, her cries of delight immense as wave after wave of orgiastic bliss rolled through her. Every slap to her ass drove her higher, every hard thrust rubbed at her clit in a way that kept the pleasure going until she couldn't stand it anymore.




Runner Ch. 03



She grew frenzied under him, pushing back so that he was thrusting into her even harder. Trip felt the first tingling that heralded his own climax, and began to jack hammer into her.

"Yes!" she screamed as one last huge wave of pleasure swamped her and for just an instant, she blacked out.

When she could open her eyes again, he lay on top of her, pushing he into the mattress. His arms were holding most of his weight off of her but she could feel his chest heaving against her back. "Where did you learn that?" she murmured.

"Inherent talent," he muttered, finally pulling away from her and rolling onto his back next to her. "I'm just full of surprises."

"Ones like those and you may make me into your sex slave yet," she teased, dragging her body over to collapse next to him and pillowing her head on her shoulder after she kissed him tenderly.

"Give me a couple hours of sleep and I'll show you things that'll curl your hair." He lifted one honey gold curl with a hand that shook slightly. "Well lookee here, I already did."

Wendy nipped at him with her sharp teeth. "Ass," she said affectionately.

"Yeah, but you love me," he grinned, his eyes still half closed.

"That I do," she admitted wryly. "You're sure you want us to move in with you here?"

"We can start packing your stuff this afternoon." He rolled, burying his face in her hair and closing his eyes. "After I get some more sleep." He snuggled down against her and his breathing grew heavy and slow.

* * *

This nightmare was different than all the others he'd ever had in his life. No matter what it was, the monster under the bed when he was a kid to the dream he had of Wendy dying when they went White Water Rafting, he'd always had a measure of control in his dreams.

This one left him panting and frustrated, unable to reach out, to stop the monster from doing what he wanted to do. It was almost as if he watched through the eyes of the killer as he followed a path through the woods.

Ahead of him, he could see a white flash and then the pale skin of a girl. He could feel the monster grin almost as if it were his own. "Fee Fie Fo Fum, I smell the blood of a scurrilous slut." The voice was low pitched, unrecognizable. It was also full of glee, the same glee he was feeling.

The monster kept his pace steady even though the girl was running. He kept her in sight, the white of her tee shirt catching the moonlight. Her hair was a dark cape running over her shoulders and down her back, freely catching in the branches and twigs of the trees she tried to run around. When he saw her trip and fall, he knew it was time. She was almost worn out. He wanted her to have a bit of fight left when he plunged into her.

"No," Trip growled, fighting the dream and the hold it had upon him. He wanted to get in front of his monster, to finally see his face, to save the girl, but he couldn't no matter how hard he fought.

With horror, he saw the girl lying in front of him, her tee shirt up around her waist, her hips sprawled. She wasn't unconscious but she was about all done in, not really even moving until the monster bent over her. Then she screamed, beating at him with weakly held fists.

She looked familiar, Trip realized, fighting his memory to put a name to the face. Her dark hair obscured part of her eyes, until the monster bent over and threw her over his shoulder. Then he carted her away, taking Trip with him as an unwilling observer. 

"No!" the girl screamed, startling a pheasant out of the bush in front of them. The monster never flinched, just kept walking, bending slightly to go into a small cave and dropping the girl onto the dark soil. The coppery smell of blood, thick and sharp, penetrated Trip's mind and he stared at the ground at his feet with a more observant eye. "Blood pool," he whispered. He'd found his first crime scene.

"Watch what I do," the monster ordered and Trip wasn't sure if he was talking to the girl or if he was talking to him. He reached out, grabbing the girl's leg and pulling her toward him, watching as the white shirt moved from her hips, rolling so that she was naked from the shoulders down, though she fought to pull the shirt down, to cover herself decently. 

Pretty legs and shapely thighs turned to wide hips that slimmed into a waist that was tiny enough to span with his hands. Her breasts were lush, the kind that would hang after she gave birth. But now they sat high upon her young body, the nipples thrusting up toward the night sky. She cried out as the monster gave them a twist, hitting at his hands as if she could get away.

Trip could feel the fury growing in the monster and he tried to warn the girl to just give in, not to fight. Would rape be worse than murder to an innocent girl like this one? He didn't know, he just knew that life was sacred. But the girl fought and the monster grew even angrier, his rage growing until he slapped the girl, leaving her semi-conscious as he fitted his much bigger body over her.

His first thrust ripped through her hymen and had her screaming. He stroked his hand over her cheek even as he pushed in again. "You'll like it if you relax," he whispered.

"Fuck you!" she cried, her fists beating at his chest.

"No, I think I'm fucking you," the monster said with a giggle. He thrust faster, uncaring now for the girl's pleasure. "I'm going to come inside of you," he whispered against her throat. "But don't worry about getting pregnant."

"Why?" she cried, trying to scrabble out from under him. 

"Because you'll be dead," he laughed, lifting his head. Trip could feel his fangs growing and cried out in horror. Wendy was right, but it was impossible. Vampires were things from horror stories, made up to frighten children and to give the older generations thrills. They weren't real.

He could feel someone shaking him, dragging him away from where the vampire now was draining the girl of her blood and her fight. He could see the monster's back side and saw his butt tense up as he came. There was also a spot, a birthmark. Trip squinted to see it even as he was drawn through the blackness. It was in the shape of a wolf's head, he thought.

Then he was awake and staring into Wendy's pretty eyes.



Runner Ch. 04



Chance lay staring up at the ceiling in his bedroom. He should be up and going. He had all sorts of things he had to do before he could leave for his retreat in the early hours of pre-dawn. But the thought of getting up, of having to face Maggie again, well, it kept him in his room with the door locked.

"Oh, that's so sweet," he heard her say. Turning his head, he gazed at her with a kind of wary acceptance. 

"I'm never going to be rid of you, am I?" he asked, sitting up and letting the covers pool at his waist.

Maggie's eyes ran over his chest and his firmly muscled stomach. "I told you what you needed to do to rid yourself of me, but you refuse to do it." She moved from the wall to the bed, sinking down upon it and reaching out one hand to touch him. Chance shuddered as the sensation of cold fingers moved down his wide chest and over his stomach.

"If you're only a figment of my imagination, how come I can feel you touch me?" he gasped.

"You have a good imagination," Maggie whispered, moving even closer. Her body was cold and naked, looking just like he left it with dirt and blood covering her skin and the huge raw wound in her throat gleaming grossly. "Do you want to see if you can fuck me or not?"

"No!" he gasped, horrified. Pushing back and away from her, he scooted out the other side of the bed, grabbing for his robe to cover his naked body. "The idea of fucking a dead woman is disgusting."

"It didn't bother you after you killed me the first time and made me into one of you," she pointed out, lying back on his bed, staining the pristine sheets with gore. "Why should anything change now?"

Chance glared at her and refused to give her an answer, instead, he went to his dresser and pulled out heavy clothes. Black jeans, a flannel shirt and a tee shirt were pulled from his drawers and tossed onto the chair next to his bed. He grabbed a pair of underwear and a pair of heavy socks before he took off his robe, trying his best to ignore Maggie.

"Oh, come on, doc, you're ruining all my fun." She sighed dramatically, running her hand through her hair and sending a drift of dirt and twigs to the floor.

"You are not here. You're dead, Maggie. Get over it, go on with your death. It's time you let go of life and moved on."

Maggie laughed, a high pitched whine coming through the hole in her throat and making Chance wince. "When do you get this? It's not me that's here, Chance. I'm here because you, for some reason, want me here. I'd love to have moved on. Do you know how upset my parents are? My mom can't stop crying and she is blaming herself. I keep trying to tell her who killed me but she doesn't hear me."

Chance shook his head, dropping his robe and quickly dressing. "I don't want you here, Maggie. I want you gone. I want you to go with the other girls..."

"Oh do you mean like Stacy Rollins?" She grinned, turning her head to look at his bed. Another teenage girl was sitting there, her short blond hair full of dirt, worms and other creatures that fed on decay pushing through her flesh. Her eyes were gone, the sockets full of maggots.

"We were good friends in high school, did you know that doc? Do you remember the day they found her body? I had a session with you that day and I know we discussed it."

Chance glanced at the girl, his mouth pressed into a thin line of annoyance. "Don't you be bringing anyone else into this, Maggie. Having you hang around is already too much."

Maggie waved a hand toward the window and the shade rolled up on its own, a faint ray of the evening sun coming through and touching his foot. He shouted, jumping back, grabbing his foot and blowing out the small fire that burned his bare skin. "Dammit bitch!" He knew he was shouting but he couldn't help himself. He couldn't figure out how a figment of his imagination was doing any of this. "Be more careful."

"Oh, definitely. We wouldn't want you to end up hurt now, would we?" She grinned unrepentedly, moving through the beam of the sun with a sigh. "Well, at least the sun can't hurt me."

"Yeah, but it can kill me." He sat on the bed, pulling on the socks over his injured foot, growling irritably at the pain. "Go away."

"Oh doc, you're becoming a broken record. If you want me gone, come and stand over here with me for a while." She held up her hand, watching the motes of dust float through her flesh. "Wow, that's kind of wild."

He didn't answer her, just reached into his closet and pulled out his hiking boots, sinking back down on the bed to pull them on. He refused to speak to her anymore and she began to hum that same obnoxious song, occasionally singing a snippet of a verse. 

He got up, grabbing the bag he'd packed last night and slinging it over his arm. Doing a quick check of the room, he turned from the window and headed out to the main part of his condo. The living room was his favorite room beside his office and he sat down his roll bag on the sofa. He glanced back toward the bedroom door, breathing a sigh of relief that, once more, Maggie seemed to have disappeared.

By the time he finished everything he needed to do before he left; the stars were beginning to shine in the night sky. He grabbed his bag and went down to the garage that was in the basement. He locked up after himself, hitting the button on the garage door opener so that he could back out his heavy duty SUV. Within twenty minutes, he was outside of city limits and speeding his way to the lake where he had his "summer camp."

He was paying little attention, his mind on other things when he realized that he was humming. It was the same damn song that Maggie had been spewing for the past four days and he slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. "Damn bitch," he growled. "I should have hurt you more."

He glanced in his rear view mirror and felt the truck's tires leave the road. Maggie was sitting behind him, slowly running her bloody fingers through her dirty hair.

"Such language," she said softly, giving him a smile and a wink before she disappeared again.

* * * *

Trip carried up the last of the boxes they'd packed and put in his car. He closed the door with his knee and lifted the box to his shoulder. Walking up the cement sidewalk to the front door of his place he heaved a sigh, hearing Wendy's voice and the shouting of Cale and Katie's voices.

He winced when he heard the crash and then Wendy scolding one of her two kids. He followed the voice into the kitchen, setting down the box he'd carried in. "How we doing?" he asked cautiously.

Wendy was bending down to finish sweeping the broken glass into a dustpan, her gaze speaking volumes as she glanced up at him. "Okay, guys. How about we head down to Ling Wah's and pick up dinner?"

"Take out?" Wendy asked hopefully, staring at the boxes that were lined up on the floor, that needed putting away.

"Definitely," Trip said, smiling down at her. "I thought me and these two rugrats could head down and that way you can get some more of this done."

"You are my hero," she said.

The kids raced through the condo, searching for shoes and jackets so they could leave and Trip took those few minutes to pull Wendy into his arms, kissing her softly. "Half an hour, okay?"

"That would be heaven," she breathed, kissing him again. "I should have most of this gone before you get back."

"Don't push yourself. We have plenty of time to get it all done." He kissed her again before hearing the kids come back. They started circling him until he shook his head and they headed out of the house and out to his car.

Wendy breathed a sigh as the kid's noise faded from her hearing. She started back in with the unpacking; repacking anything she didn't want to keep here. She had a lot of it done, boxes broken down to be thrown out, more sturdy boxes being filled to put in the attic until they decided what to do with the stuff. Then her cell phone, sitting on its charger next to the house phone began to buzz and she picked it up irritably.

The number was a restricted one and she hit the button. "Dr. Wendy Merritt."

"Dr. Merritt, I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time."

Wendy stared at the phone for a moment, the voice unfamiliar. "Who is this?"

"Ahh, yes, that's right. We haven't really been introduced. I guess I've talked to Detective Grant enough that I feel I know you."

"That's nice, but who is this?"

The voice on the phone laughed, a very masculine sound. "I'm sorry. I'm Dr. Steeples." He paused, waiting to see if she recognized the name or not.

"Oh, yes, Dr. Steeples. What might I do for you?"

"Actually I was hoping I could do something for you?" He paused and waited for her answer.

"What can you possibly do for me, doctor?" Wendy felt a twinge of irritation and fought to hide it.

"I've recently learned that you and Detective Grant were getting married. I was hoping that as a wedding present to you two I might allow you, as another doctor, to take a look at my files."

Wendy sank down on one of the bar stools, staring out at the kitchen window which now showed little but a reflection of the room she was in. "It's a bit unorthodox, Dr. Steeples. Have you spoken to Detective Grant about this?"

"Uh, no. I was only recently apprised of your change in status. I know Detective Grant hasn't gotten the warrant for my files. I was just trying to help him out."

She was quiet for a moment then sighed. Her gaze moved over the boxes that were still left unpacked. "When did you want to do this?"

"The sooner the better. I have a whole new group of girls that I'm taking up to my camp grounds this weekend and I would be happy to have you meet us up there."

"You'll have to give me time to talk to Trip, to find out when he'll have the chance to come with me."

"Oh, Doctor Merritt, you've got that wrong. I'm willing to share my files with you, not with Detective Grant. He's not a doctor and wouldn't have to follow the same rules and regulations that you and I must. Patient privacy must be guaranteed or I could lose my job and have a malpractice suit on my hands. I hope you can understand that."

"Oh, of course I understand. I am not exactly sure what Trip will have to say about this. I can't not tell him of your offer."

"You can if you want to see those files."

Wendy didn't respond at first and she heard a disgruntled cough on the other end of the phone. "Doc?"

"Yeah, I'm still here," she answered. "I'm thinking. Trip isn't going to like this."

"I'm not doing this to piss off the detective, Doctor Merritt. I just have been feeling guilty about not being able to help him out more and I got this idea. I ask for consults all the time with family doctors and share the files on my patients with them. I thought maybe we could work out some way of explaining this to my patients that wouldn't upset them." He paused and I heard his breathy sigh. "But if you don't think he'd be okay with that, I'll just wait for him to bring back the warrant."

Wendy closed her eyes, trying to decide what she should do. If Trip had been there, she might have been able to figure out what was behind this strange request from Dr. Steeples. But he wasn't here. She made up her mind quickly. "No, Doctor. If you're sure this won't cause you any problems I'd love to get a look at your records and see if those girls had anything else in common."

"Great! Can you come over now?"

"Now?" Wendy felt a thrill of nerves shiver through her. Going their now would have her going on her own without talking to Trip. She wondered if he'd forgive her. "Yes. I'll be there. But I need an address." She reached out and pulled a sheet of paper off the pad near the phone, grabbing a pen out of the small jar of pens and pencils sitting by the phone. She wrote down the address, recognizing it for one of the nicer condos on the other side of town.

"Will you need directions?"

"No. I have a TomTom and shouldn't have any problems. Thank you, Dr. Steeples. Let's hope we can find something." She said goodbye, hanging up the phone and searching for her cell phone. She dumped out her purse, finally finding it under her extra make up bag. She dumped everything back into it and then grabbed her keys off the key board and headed out to her car.

Pushing the speed dial to get hold of Trip, she backed her car out of the garage and down the driveway. His phone rang and rang until his voice mail answered. She listened to his message, cursing softly under her breath. "Trip, honey, you'll never guess who just called me. It was your favorite suspect, Dr. Steeples. He wants to allow me into his files. Since I'm a doctor, he thinks he can use the excuse that I am consulting on his cases. I'm heading to his house now. Call me when you get this. I love you."

She hung up the phone, dropping it into her purse.

* * * *

Maggie sashayed through Dr. Steeples office, plopping herself down on his desk top. She swung her feet, glancing over at Chance, a smile on her face. "Have you figured it out yet?"

"Figured what out?" he snarled in a definitely unfriendly tone.

"What you're planning on doing with Dr. Merritt?" She reached out, touching Chance's hand and laughing when he gasped and pulled away.

"Don't touch me," he growled at her, snapping his teeth in his anger. "Why do you care what I plan to do with Dr. Merritt?"

"I don't, really." She was actually cooing at him. "I just want to make sure that you absolutely want to make her into one of you or one of me. What will Detective Grant do when he finds out that she's missing?"

"He'll go mad with grief. They'll take him off this case." He glared at her angrily. "I just wish I knew how to get rid of you as well."

"You don't want me gone. I've told you many times how to get rid of me and you just refuse to do it."

"I don't want to kill myself," he snarled at her. "I want you gone." He rose from his desk, his eyes narrowing and a slowly turning red. He reached for her, his hands going through her. "Why won't you stay dead?"

"Because you don't want me dead," she said softly. She didn't even duck when his arm slung out, his fist going through her body.

His howl of frustrated rage was loud. And he grabbed his desk chair, throwing it at her and groaning when it went through her as well. "Stay fucking dead and leave me alone!"

"Chance, settle down, you'll give yourself a stroke if you don't." Maggie chuckled as the Vampire growled even louder.

"I'm a Vampire, bitch. You can't kill me."

"No, I can't, so why does it bother you so much that I want to stay here for a while?" She shook her head and he watched as a shower of dirt and leaves cascaded down.

"I killed you. I ripped out your throat."

Maggie laughed, her fingers running over the ruined flesh of her throat. "Yeah, I was there, remember?"

Chance growled again, turning away from her. He left his office and checked his supplies. He had to be ready for Wendy Merritt when she arrived. He rubbed his hands together, the thought of having her at his mercy brightening his mood. He would be rid of the good Detective very soon, and better yet, he'd have him blamed for the murder of Doctor Merritt as well.

"You truly are evil," Maggie said, her derision easily heard. She rolled her eyes at him before she popped out, leaving him alone with his machinations.