sister’s voice floated out to her, as if
she were in some kind of pain. “Yesssss….” she hissed right after that, putting
Diana’s concern about pain to rest. “That’s right. That’s it. There…no,
not there, there…ahhhhh.” A whispery sound, like fabric, covered up the next
words.
Diana’s cheeks flushed and her pulse raced when she heard
Dom’s voice next. She’d know that sound anywhere. It populated her fevered,
sixteen-year-old fantasies in ways she barely understood, especially since the
boy causing them had been her friend since they’d met in Sunday school. She’d
been four, he, five. It had been her first time away from her mama and she’d
been bone-deep terrified, even though it was in church. He’d taken one look at
Diana’s tear-streaked face and shoved her down on her butt before running away,
leaving her no choice but to take off after him and subsequently forget being
afraid in favor of the chase.
Dominic’s words floated out to her again. “Holy shit.
Holy…oh…Christ.” He let out a low moan and the sound she’d heard earlier and
ignored, thinking it was something coming from outside, started up again—and
the rhythmic thump-thump of her sister’s headboard against the wall covered up
the various groaning noises, thank the Lord.
Diana pressed against the hallway’s cool plaster, willing
one of her parents to get wind of it, to storm up the steps, throw open the
door and catch them—her sister and Dominic Love—fucking. She bit her lip,
unable to move past the door, in spite of her fury.
How had Dominic gotten in? Had he snuck back after they’d
spent the hours in the blood and guts of her kill? It had been fun, she
thought. They’d laughed, worked together, lightly flirted, the usual. Claiming
he had to get up and work for his daddy the next day at the brewery, Dom had
gotten in his pickup and driven down her drive, arm hanging out the window. Jen
had only shown her pretty face once during the evening, wrinkled up her nose at
the gore-fest and left.
They were a couple, Diana thought, clenching her
fists. She and Dominic. Dominic was hers. They were….
“Oh yes!” her sister whisper-shrieked, making Diana nearly leap
out of her skin. The pounding noises ceased. She could hear the fabric
whoosh-whoosh again and a low moan of satisfaction coming from Dominic’s mouth.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he said. Her sister giggled, saying
something Diana couldn’t hear but sounded like first time .
Without thinking, Diana acted, stepping toward the door and
pushing it open. Her sister’s bed was tucked into an alcove, like hers next
door. Diana could only see the footboard from the doorway, but she heard them
talking loud and clear.
“I shouldn’t have…I mean, I’m not…you know….” Dom was in the
middle of saying.
Kissing sounds that seemed to last forever cut him off.
Diana waited, angry, horrified yet unable to confront them.
“You’re pretty good for a rookie,” Jen said, eventually.
“Well, I do read a few magazines,” Dom replied with another
long sigh. “Oh crap, what time is it?”
Diana knew she should move away; just let it go. Jen had
always done things better than her as the older, taller, prettier,
better-at-riding and school, and pretty-much-everything daughter. Their father
had wanted a son for the second child so he’d named Diana after the goddess of
hunting and had treated her like a boy from the get-go. She had no concept of
pretty dresses, or pedicures, or dances, or boyfriends, apparently—anything
that made up Jen’s world.
But by God, Dominic Love was her boyfriend. They were
meant to be together. Everyone always assumed they were despite his
near-constant flirtation with anything female crossing his path. She’d even let
him kiss her and touch her boobs two days ago, the bastard.
“Where’re my…oh hell, Jen don’t do that…oh….”
Jen giggled and there were more