The Bride Collector Read Online Free PDF Page A

on the bridge to steady it. He sliced through the tender meat with
     a serrated blade, one provided by Jonathan Elway, the famed Denver Bronco quarterback who, based on Quinton’s research three
     days earlier when he’d carefully selected the restaurant for this occasion, had indeed been a favorite among all of God’s
     children.
    Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.
    A man with enviable strength and intelligence, able to hurl an inflated leather sack through the air with such accuracy and
     power that few defenders could see it coming, much less stop it from reaching its intended receiver.
    On his God-given field, Jonathan Elway, known to the rest of the world as John Elway, had been a god. He didn’t mistakenly
     think of himself as a god, like most humans desperate to live out their pathetic fantasies did. He actually
was
a god, something he himself likely didn’t know.
    Quinton placed the first bite of meat into his mouth, pulled the tender morsel off using his teeth, and closed his eyes. The
     taste was heavenly. The seared crust gave way with a faint crack to the moist fibers beneath. Juice flooded his mouth and
     pooled under his tongue as he sank his molars deep into the flesh.
    So delectable and satisfying, he allowed himself a soft moan. Two more chews with his eyes still closed to shut out all other
     visual stimuli. The pleasure demanded more vocalized appreciation. Whispering this time.
    “Mmmm… Mmmm… Delicious.”
    It was important not to be plastic. Pretending to himself only minimized who he was. Most humans wore a public facade, an
     attempt to compensate for their own flaws and weaknesses. The whole world was plastic, populated by people playing roles,
     fooling only the foolish. Sadly, they’d worn the facades for so long that they had lost even their awareness of the habit.
    I am an important executive who has made money—the Rolex label on my wrist should make that clear.
    I am a powerful lover and provider, signified by the way I’ve engineered my body to appear strong and symmetrically lumpy.
    I am comfortable with myself, signified by the way I walk so nonchalantly wearing only sweats and a T-shirt.
    I am nobody. But please, please don’t tell anyone.
    The voice of the bratty boy, who was now seated across the room in a booth, scraped at Quinton’s mind. He fought back a grimace
     of frustration. It was important not to be plastic, but it was also important not to step on the sanctity of others’ space.
     The boy was upsetting the balance of peace and tranquility in the room. No doubt, every last patron would readily shove a
     sock or boot down the boy’s throat if they were not so afraid of being found out for who they really were.
    He shut the boy out and focused on the cavalcade of flavors dancing around in his mouth. He began to chew with powerful strokes
     of his jaw, drawing the juices into his mouth and throat. Swallowing deep.
    The details of his earlier activity, which he was now celebrating by breaking an otherwise strict vegetarian diet, slipped
     through his mind. His special time with Caroline had been satisfying in the same way all great accomplishments were rewarding.
     But he’d drawn no physical pleasure from the bloodletting.
    Eating the steak, however… This was indeed like sex. And because Quinton had not known any sexual gratification since that
     terrible night seven years earlier, he relished every other physical pleasure that reminded him that physical pleasure was
     indeed an immeasurable gift.
    News of Caroline’s death would soon fill the world with a single question:
Who is it? Who is it? Is it my neighbor, is it the grocery clerk, is it the high school principal?
    Humans were predictable. Like animated carbon units. Cardboard cutouts with fancy trim, far too much of it. There was only
     one human who really mattered, and at the moment that was him. Everything around him was stage dressing. He was the only real
     player on this stage.
    The audience was