Beneath the Mask

I well knew that only human blood and human lives kept the end of the world at bay. I had abased myself before gods, offered them what they needed, from human hearts to flayed skins; I had wielded many obsidian knives myself in many sacrifices. But the concentration of images in that room seemed almost unhealthy.

Clearly he was not lying, and equally clearly he didn’t know anything.

The young man’s eyes fixed on my face, his straight, dark brows elegantly raised. I pressed myself against him and forced down a shiver. It may have only been the wine, but it seemed to me that, even through the layers of silk and brocade, I could feel the cold radiating from his flesh.

His lips would be soft, I decided, like a woman’s, and they would taste like blood and rose petals.
Audio Fiction Podcast:
Precious Meat

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I am Boon. I lead my pack.