Clear as day, seeing each pebble and each footprint in the frost, the grime coating the street sign at the end of the alley, his eyes assessed his surroundings at rapid speed. Stalking toward the street, he felt his steps lighter, his movements fluid, precise.
And he thirsted. Feverish, furious, his thoughts focused on one goal. No longer a hunter, he was pure predator.
Tilting his head up, he sniffed the air. The corners of his mouth turned up as the scent shot a thrill prickling over his skin. Passing a few jackasses that were high as kites on something revolting, he kept moving.
There. The scent grew stronger as he neared a distribution plant. A foolish young security guard strolled along the parking lot on the other side of a chain-link fence, whistling a chipper tune as he walked his beat.
Footsteps silent on the icy path, Bennett stalked closer, the craving growing blinding, his focus on nothing but his prey. Scaling the fence, he leapt over, landing silent as a cat on the pavement.
Sticking to the shadows, Bennett closed in on his quarry. The enticing scent beckoned him nearer, faster, relief already surfacing as the craving that clawed through him was about to be satisfied.
No clue as to his fate, the man didn’t have time to react until it was too late. Taking the guard by the neck, Bennett jerked him close.
Struggling, punching, flailing, the guard panicked. Undeterred, Bennett tuned in to the pulsing under his skin, then sunk his sharp teeth into flesh. Warm, savory nectar flowed as he drank deeply, the burning in his throat easing, relief flooding his veins.
The guard stopped fighting as he grew pale. Bennett’s thirst was nearly quenched.
“Please,” the guard whispered with what little energy he had left.
Stabbing his temple like a knife in his conscience, Bennett halted. Clenching his eyes shut, he tried to ignore it.Fuck, he was still so thirsty, only a little more…
The body he held grew weaker, heavier in his hold as he lost the strength to stand.
Bennett opened his eyes, assessing the blood red marks on the pale neck. His eyes welled with a clouded rage, his own panic clenching in his chest, flashing him back to the sensation of being crushed under the weight of the vampires as they drained him. Loosening his grip, he lowered the guy to the ground.
A gruff edge to his voice, he murmured, “Go home. Tell anyone what happened, and I’ll track you down and take the rest.”
The guard sat with eyes wide, a hint of color returning to his cheeks.
Taking off at a sprint, Bennett scaled the fence and landed on the concrete sidewalk. Feet never stopping, he took off toward home.
Cresting over I-5, the rising sun teased its arrival. As he crossed the final block, he scanned the parked cars for tinted windshields or darkened SUVs. Clear. But those fuckheads wouldn’t be far. What were they waiting for? Or had he taken out enough of them, that they were forced to regroup?
He rested his thumb on the lock and the moment the latch clicked open, he ducked into his warehouse. Pounding up the stairs, he swung open the door to the loft. His phone sat on the kitchen counter, the light flashing with a new message.
Fuck no. He stripped off his bloody clothes and stuffed them in the fireplace, lighting the kindling and watching until the tainted fabric blazed.
Running his hands over his face, he froze as blood smeared across his palm. His, the vampires’, his victim’s, all blended together and caked into his beard. Stomach roiling at the revolting absurdity, he wanted to vomit but knew it would only make things worse; the hunger would return that much sooner.
Stalking into the bathroom, he flipped the shower nozzle to blazing hot and scrubbed until his skin was agonizingly raw. He grabbed scissors from the drawer and cut away at his beard before shaving his face clean. He tugged his overgrown hair back.
As the mirror defogged after the hot shower, his face came into view. He’d expected to see the pasty complexion of a vampire, but found his skin unchanged. His eyes were a few shades paler than his normal espresso, and his pupils were more alert.
Peeling back his lips, he felt the snarl rumble in his throat. Longer, sharper, his canines were pure beast, designed to feed. Backing away, he looked to the massive wall of windows to see the morning sun casting a glow around the edges of the curtains.
He threw on some fresh jeans and a t-shirt, tossing a sweatshirt on his bed as he tugged on his boots. He needed to get a move on, but where would he go? His place in BC? Hell no, his parents might still be there. How about calling in the team?Hey, guys, I was a fucking idiot and walked into a trap, and, well, now I’m a monster.No thanks. That conversation could wait.
And what fucking prophecy?
He lumbered up the spiral staircase to the loft’s loft, as Lana had titled it, into the library that Astrid had spent weeks helping him to plan and fill years ago. His stomach churned as he considered how to break the news.
For him, for them… not right now.
Staring blankly at the wall of books, he rubbed his hands over his face. Freezing, he glanced down at his palms, letting out a sigh of relief that they were clean.Out, out damn spot. Fuck. Days ago, he was drowning in self-pity. Now he was drowning in self-beratement. Couldn’t catch a damn break.
And when the craving struck again? He needed to find blood. Fast.
Burning in the back of his throat at the very thought of it, he imagined a little more human blood. No one would know. It’s not like he was going to kill anyone…
