**WARNING: if you don't like dark, ick, gore, blood, or viciousness, you might want to walk away now. This is not my normal erotica.**
The street was dark. But, it didn't matter, Sariah's night vision was exemplary. He hadn't a chance in hell, and that was exactly what she brought him. He deserved it after such treatment. Snout to the ground she tracked him into that alley; dank, dirty, yet his scent fouled everything.
Her claws scraped the ground as she stalked toward where he cowered. Her muscles tensed beneath her tawny hide, her muzzle curled in a silent snarl as she drew in snoutfuls of his fear. She growled, low and long, and then tipped her nose to the moon and loosed a raged howl.
He trembled so that his shoulders rattled the boxes beneath which he hid. She crouched, a yard away, and then lunged. He fled, running toward the blocked dead end with Sariah snapping at his scurrying flesh.
"Here, Boy," she mocked between pointed predator fangs.
He jumped up, trying to climb the short wall between him and an unanswered prayer for freedom. She circled in agitation beneath his kicking feet, paced with vengeance in each set and swipe of paw. The wall gave no purchase beneath his scrabbling fingers; flesh left behind in the pitted brick surface. She laughed, a sick barking sound in the lonesome dark.
"Oh, now," she teased, "don't hurt yourself – that's my job..."
He crashed down onto his ass. Her hind legs bunched, Sariah launched herself at her prey. She slammed into his chest with a crash of bone and brick. Claws pierced between ribs, punctured a lung, as his skull rocked back to leave a bloody smear, bits of scalp showing through on the wall behind his head. His hands flew up to protect his face, yet they were scant defense against her Were frenzy. She smacked his forearm hard enough to break the ulna and his nose with the secondary contact. Blood gushed from his flattened face as he yowled in pain.
His flimsy human legs flopped and kicked beneath, and between, her heavily muscled hind legs. A knee even came up and crashed her rib cage. Sariah let out a short yelp. The fury she felt before was nothing in comparison to the blind rage she succumbed to. She sank her long fangs into his throat, encompassing the greater part of his neck with her jagged jaws. Paws braced on the ground and the wall behind him, she shook him savagely, growling as she did until the fight left him to the chorus of cracking, crunching vertebrae. He slumped against the wall, a sloppy sack of skin and tissue.
Sariah ripped out his throat and spat the meat into his face. She buried her muzzle in his guts, eviscerated him even as her flaying claws sliced flesh from his still limbs. Then, as final insult Sariah bit into his foot, dragged the carcass down flat on the ground, and desecrated the corpse. She squatted over his gaping abdomen, and pissed strong musky urine.
She kicked dirt into his raw wounds.
"Fuck you," she growled.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
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14 comments:
Really, really good physical description of the attack.
So many pull their punches.
I'm wondering though: wadidhedo? Waddidhedo?
He ticked her off. I'm not sure exactly how, yet; something personal, something intimate.
Plus, he's a male. Sariah eats them for breakfast.
Hell hath no fury...?
Yep, no erotica here, unless shattered limbs and ruptured abdomens are your thing.
Swift, brutal, and very vivid. Something tells me Sariah isn't the type to do flower arranging in her spare time : )
What is particularly good is how consistent you are with the feline were...the urine, the kicking dirt.
Heh, heh.
Tsavo~
The dark, visceral scenes have a certain beauty, I think; but not sensuality.
And, no, no flower arranging, for character or author.
Bernita~
You saucy minx! You pick up every little nuance, don't you?? :)
Savannah, it is that extension of character or situation or action that lifts your writing - as I've said before - way above the mundane.
From a bookdealers POV would love to see more of this Sariah. She sounds like a best seller to me
Welcome Anon! I am currently working on Sariah's story, along with a few other WIP's. But, this bitch is pretty insistent! :)
She's a feline? I thought wolf when I read it. But I'm usually a reader who makes up their own story when they read... I think it's the writer in me.
These particular lines were so descriptive that they overrode my own story going on.
"She laughed, a sick barking sound in the lonesome dark."
"She growled, low and long, and then tipped her nose to the moon and loosed a raged howl."
"Sariah let out a short yelp"
"She buried her muzzle"
"she mocked between pointed predator fangs"
Good piece... And I love the last line.
Lady M
The last line was very necessary, Lady! I could here that one being growled in my own head. :)
As to the breed of Were... Well, let's just say she's unique. I don't want to throw out all the plot lines so that'll have to do for now...
I have much lurve for Sariah, but you know that already.
*winks* I also know what made you feel like posting this, hehehehe!
Yup, I know you like her! Especially after the scene that I shared with you last night... hehehehehe
Remind me to NEVER get on your bad side!
Those were intense mental images.
Excuse me whilst I take a Tums.
Oh, Michele... Don't worry Hun, I'm not bad, I just write that way.
*MUAhahaha*
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