Wrath White - Succulent Prey

"Sir, my name is Detective Volario and this is Detective Montgomery. We need to ask you a few questions about your son."

A scowl creased his face. "Wel, I haven't heard from the boy since he went off to col ege." He began to close the door. Montgomery placed a hand on the door and held it open. The old man pushed against it but the detective held it firm.

"We stil need to talk with you. It'l only take a moment. Do you mind if we come in?" Montgomery stuck a foot in the doorway but the old man moved to block him from entering.

The large black detective and the even larger old man stared eye to eye for a long, tense moment. The air bristled with hostility. Lionel Miles had to have been in his midfifties but he was no less formidable for his years. Veins stood out in his neck and forearms as his body tensed. His eyes bore down on the detective, sizing him up, then suddenly the old man wilted. He turned and stalked back into the house, leaving the front door open.

"So, what do you want to know about my boy?"

The detectives looked at each other and let out a deep sigh of relief. For a moment there they were sure they were going to wind up going toe-to-toe with the big guy, and they weren't exactly confident how such a battle would have turned out.

"Your son may be a material witness in a murder and we need to locate him." The old man's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You mean he's a suspect, don't you?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Why else would two detectives show up on my doorstep wil ing to take me down to find out if the kid is hiding in here or something?"

"We weren't going to-"

"Save it. We both know you were."

"Al right, so is the kid here?"

"I told you before. I haven't heard from him since he left for col ege. We ain't real close."

"Then you won't mind if we search the house?" Volario asked, turning to look around the room.

The living room was sparsely furnished but clean. There was a fifty-two-inch flatscreen TV tucked into a built-in wal unit, along with a surround-sound stereo system and DVD player. Across from that was a leather couch and a plush leather recliner. There were few pictures in the room. No family portraits. Not a single picture of their son. Not so much as a wedding photo. Knives adorned the wal s, though. A samurai sword, a British saber, a Scottish broadsword, an Indian Ghurka. Montgomery took it al in without a word.

"Now if you want to search the place, you'd better get a warrant. Either that or you're going to have to knock me down."

"Relax, big fel a. Just a few more questions and we re on our way.

"You've got my attention. So go ahead and ask."

"You don't seem very surprised that we're here. Any reason you think your son might be involved in something like this?"

"Something like what? You haven't told me what you think he's done yet."

"We found a librarian from his school murdered. Mutilated and sexual y assaulted. He was the last person seen with her before she disappeared."

The detectives were shocked by the expression that burst onto the old man's face. His chest swel ed up and it was obvious that he was struggling to suppress a smile. At first Montgomery was perplexed. Then he realized what he was seeing on the man's face. It was pride.

"No, Officers. There's no reason I would think my boy would be capable of something like that. Joe's soft. He used to wet the bed when he was a kid. He ain't no kil er. Don't let al those muscles fool you. His momma spoiled that kid rotten. I'm surprised he ain't turn out to be one of them faggots you see run-nin' al over town, kissin' and holdin' hands. Now if you excuse me, the missus'l be home from the market anytime now and she's not real fond of visitors."

"Wel, thanks for your cooperation," Volario replied with a look of disappointment.

The detectives walked out of the house and were not surprised when the door slammed shut behind them.

"Man, that guy was creepy as hel. Maybe we should be looking at him for this? Did you see al the knives and shit on his wal s?" Volario's eyes were wide and he was breathing hard. His hands shook as he raised a cigarette to his lips and groped in his pockets for his lighter. He looked as if he'd just been in a gunfight.

"If Joseph Miles is our guy, then I can certainly see where he got it from," Montgomery added, looking over his shoulder.

The Tacoma skyline fil ed the windshield as Joe rol ed into town with Alicia curled up in the front seat, looking wel fed and content just as the first nine-to-fivers were beginning to scramble from the nest to catch the early worm. Joe stopped the van at a gas station and ran in to get directions to the psychiatric hospital.

"You visiting someone or checking in?" asked the long-haired, flannel-shirted, grunge-rock reject who worked the cash register. He had beautiful greenish blue eyes like seawater. Joe wondered how those vibrant orbs would taste and those vibrant orbs would taste and imagined sucking them out of his skul like boiled oysters. The boy waited for a response to his little witticism and seemed to grow nervous when Joe merely continued to stare into his eyes.

"Uh, okay, yeah. The hospital's down past the airport heading toward the center of town. You can't miss it." Joe smiled, turned, and walked back out to his van.

Joe drove the five miles into the center of town and had no trouble finding the hospital. He drove past and continued farther into the city. He needed to find a place to hide Alicia.

Alicia snuggled up beside him. She was stil bound but Joe had al owed her into the front seat. He trusted her more now. Even as her heart fil ed with an affection that she assumed was love for the monstrous predator beside her, shame colored her cheeks. She had eaten a man and enjoyed it.

She didn't know if Joe was right.

Perhaps he had somehow passed his sickness on to her when he had bitten her. But she doubted it. She had eaten

Frank only to be closer to Joe. She wasn't exactly hungering to bite into anyone else. There wasn't that al consuming appetite working within her the way it had worked inside Joe, twisting his guts as if he were starving. She couldn't have reached orgasm just from tasting poor Frank's flame-broiled cock the way Joe had, not without Joe's organ pounding in and out of her. She wouldn't have tasted Frank's flesh at al if she had not wanted to get closer to Joe, to understand the passions that drove him and perhaps to share them, if he hadn't made it look so sensuous. If he hadn't looked so powerful and sexual as he stroked his huge cock and crammed pieces of Frank into his mouth. If she hadn't been such a slut to have lusted after and now possibly to have fal en in love with the murderous psychopath, there was no way she would have eaten poor Frank.

Why do I let myself do these things? she wondered, and was shocked when Joe answered as if he had been in her head listening to her doubt herself.

"You know why you get off on being with me? Because you're a slut. But that's why I love you. I'm a slut too. We're both whores and so what? We are what we are. Fucking makes you happy so why shouldn't you fuck? Why should you feel guilty about it? Is there anything that makes you feel more alive than having a fat cock between your thighs? No.

Nothing except maybe having one in each hole. And what's wrong with that?

You've let society make you hate yourself for your appetites. You hate yourself for enjoying life. That's stupid. Be a slut and be happy," Joe said, waving his hand at her dismissively.

Alicia was shocked. Part of her wanted to listen to him and to know the type of freedom he was talking about. The other part was appal ed and wanted to slap the shit out of him.

"I'm not a slut!" she hissed, eyes glistening with outraged tears.