She hurriedly drank to chase away the bizarre sensation of the tablets in her throat. She had already made the mistake of grinding the vitamins up and stirring the powder into her drinks. She’d never tasted anything more repulsive. Clad only in a faded black tank top and panties, she pushed aside the curtains to watch the street. The train would have just arrived at the station. Soon John would be home, carrying more delicious food than could be imagined. Valerie grinned into her drink. Franco-Swiss cooking might get short shrift in the food snobs’ world, but she’d never experienced such animal sensuality as she had since she’d moved in with John. Hot melted cheese served to her off his fingertips, segments of sausage on dark bread, and liquors that seemed distilled from mountain flowers shook her and the child with bliss. When John offered his neck, reassuring her that, no, really, he did heal fast, she washed his gifts down with his apple-laden blood. The memory of what they had done once she had drunk her fill made her rub her thighs together.
