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Her husband screams in agony. Just like I screamed when he would chain me to his work table and thrust himself inside me, laughing and grunting the entire time. Judith does neither. She just drops his intestines with a splat and then, with a slow deliberation, brings her hand up to her mouth and slides one finger between her lips.

I stare at her, a bizarre, terrifying fire surging between my legs. She glances over at me and drags her finger out, still streaked a little with blood. She licks her second finger, draggingher tongue around, and I can suddenly imagine all the things her tongue can do.

“I always liked the taste of fresh blood,” she says, eyes fixed on mine. “It’s—well, it’s a delicacy in my family.”

She turns away from me before I can respond, not that I even know what I would say. Her husband hangs slack on the hook, head lolling.

“Is he dead?” I whisper.

“No.” Judith walks over to where I dropped the kitchen knife and picks it up and looks me right in the eye. “It takes a lot to kill a human being.”

As if on cue, her husband whimpers and jerks, making the chains rattle.

“He’s close, though.” Her eyes sear into mine, and I drop my gaze down to her lips, smeared with red blood.

“What does it taste like?” I ask hoarsely.

Judith tilts her head, and it’s clear she knows what I mean. “Like nothing else on Earth.”

She steps closer to me. I can’t stop staring at the blood on her lips.

“Do you want to try it?” she asks, holding up her blood-streaked hand.

I do want to try it. But I don’t want to lick it off her fingers.

I move before I can stop myself, taking two steps to clear the distance between us and then pressing my lips against hers.

For a moment, Judith goes still. Then she tilts her head and parts her lips and brings up her clean hand to cup my cheek. And then we’re kissing, slow and soft. I lick the blood from her mouth, the salty tang of it surprising. Then I slide my tongue between her lips, drawing her into me—and into a real kiss.

When I pull away, all I can see is her.

Then her husband ruins it by screaming. We both look over at him, where he’s dangling from the hook, his bellygaping open, blood and tears streaming down his cheeks as he unleashes a long, wordless wail. Then it tapers off, and he sags forward, swinging on the hook.

“He’s close,” Judith says. “Do you want me to finish him?”

She’s still holding the kitchen knife. Shaking, I reach over and take it from her.

“Tell me what to do,” I say.

Judith nods, then smooths my hair away from my face, a gentle gesture that makes me shiver. She wraps her fingers around mine so we’re both holding the knife. Her body’s warmth is so close, drawing around me like a blanket, as she guides me forward, lifting my hand toward her husband.

He lifts his head, his one remaining eye unfocused and dazed. I’m not sure he sees us, not even as Judith guides me closer to him.

“Cut his throat,” she says softly. “Just like I did with the livestock back home.”

“Livestock,” I mutter, looking at him, bloody and pale. It’s hard to believe I was ever afraid of him.

“Mmhmm.” Judith smooths my hair out of my eyes again, her breath warm on my cheek. “I can even cook him for you if you want.”

I look over at her. “You mean to eat?”

The question doesn’t exactly repulse me.

“If you want.” She gives me a dazzling smile. For a minute, she really is the pretty housewife I thought she was.

Her husband whimpers softly. Judith lets go of my hand.

“Press it in deep,” she says. “And then keep going.”