spinning her way, and she was flailing helplessly in a vacuum.
“Heather,” Alon said, lacing every letter with greed. The man barely breathed, barely moved. He was a coiled cat, studying its prey with hypnotizing eyes. “Tell me about yourself, Heather.” Something inched into her as he spoke. A potion, a poison, she didn’t know what. Only that it was hard to focus on anything but his face. Her mind was distant, almost dull. The only thing that really registered was a warm shot of lust when Alon leaned into her space, eyeing her neck. His nostrils flared, and he exchanged a look with his friend.
If it hadn’t been for the fire door beside them opening, Heather would have closed her eyes and let him close in. But the cool, fresh air slapped her back into thinking. Jesus, had the man spiked her drink?
Out! Get the hell out!
She tried pulling Cathy with her, but the woman’s eyes were vague, lusty. Bewitched. Another tug, but Cathy just slapped her hand away. Alon’s face curled in a cold smile, and Heather backed away, plunging through the crowd and out the fire door. After the stuffy bar, the crisp air of the street was a relief. She felt cleaner, clearer as she gulped the fresh air.
Until the bar door swung open. “Leaving so soon?” Alon’s voice was deep, silky.
She spun and speed-walked away, barely holding back from a run. A glance back revealed only shadows. When she faced forward again, he was there. Right in front of her, one hand pinching her arm. Shock rooted her in her step. How did the man move so fast?
He reached out and stroked her cheek, and the touch was cold and clammy. Reptilian. His nails were perfectly groomed, his skin, an unnaturally smooth alabaster. Like a deer in headlights, bracing for impact, Heather waited for her doom. His hand brushed her hair behind her ear, smoothed her neck. Why couldn’t she move? Why couldn’t she scream? The hand was behind her now, pulling her close as his head tilted. A glint of red rimmed his eye and his teeth—his fangs—flashed white.
Heather stopped breathing. Almost stopped thinking. Then survival instinct struck her and she struggled to break free. He only smiled and gripped her harder, fingernails digging deep.
That’s what did it, that pinch. It snapped her together just long enough to ram a knee into his groin and twist her wrist free. She stumbled away, horrified at the hungry flicker in his eyes. The look of a hunter, eager to play.
If it hadn’t been for the half-drunk bachelor party that staggered around the corner then, Heather would be dead.
“Hey baby, join the party!” One of them grabbed her arm and pulled her along. She went willingly, feeling Alon’s eyes bore into her back, right down the alley and around the next corner. Even there, she could feel his presence reaching for her.
A police car rolled by, and she nearly screamed for help. But what would they say to a woman straight out of a bar, reporting a vampire? They’d probably book her, not him. So she ran all the way home, bolted the door, and yanked down every shade. She’d ended up locked in the bathroom all night, phone in one hand, kitchen knife in the other, wishing desperately that Buddy had lived longer, if only to see her through this awful night.
A tickling sensation where Alon had grabbed her neck told her she was anything but free. More like a fox released just long enough to make for a better chase. His eyes had promised as much.
Throughout that night, Heather called Cathy every half hour without a response. She called her all the next day, and every minute, another of her nerves frayed through. Finally, she steeled herself and went to Cathy’s apartment. The police were there amidst teary neighbors who shook their heads and tsked.
A terrible crime.
The woman had her wild ways, they whispered, but she didn’t deserve this. To be raped, beaten, ritualistically bled.
Cathy was dead, a victim of some sadistic group. What kind of monster would do
“Heather,” Alon said, lacing every letter with greed. The man barely breathed, barely moved. He was a coiled cat, studying its prey with hypnotizing eyes. “Tell me about yourself, Heather.” Something inched into her as he spoke. A potion, a poison, she didn’t know what. Only that it was hard to focus on anything but his face. Her mind was distant, almost dull. The only thing that really registered was a warm shot of lust when Alon leaned into her space, eyeing her neck. His nostrils flared, and he exchanged a look with his friend.
If it hadn’t been for the fire door beside them opening, Heather would have closed her eyes and let him close in. But the cool, fresh air slapped her back into thinking. Jesus, had the man spiked her drink?
Out! Get the hell out!
She tried pulling Cathy with her, but the woman’s eyes were vague, lusty. Bewitched. Another tug, but Cathy just slapped her hand away. Alon’s face curled in a cold smile, and Heather backed away, plunging through the crowd and out the fire door. After the stuffy bar, the crisp air of the street was a relief. She felt cleaner, clearer as she gulped the fresh air.
Until the bar door swung open. “Leaving so soon?” Alon’s voice was deep, silky.
She spun and speed-walked away, barely holding back from a run. A glance back revealed only shadows. When she faced forward again, he was there. Right in front of her, one hand pinching her arm. Shock rooted her in her step. How did the man move so fast?
He reached out and stroked her cheek, and the touch was cold and clammy. Reptilian. His nails were perfectly groomed, his skin, an unnaturally smooth alabaster. Like a deer in headlights, bracing for impact, Heather waited for her doom. His hand brushed her hair behind her ear, smoothed her neck. Why couldn’t she move? Why couldn’t she scream? The hand was behind her now, pulling her close as his head tilted. A glint of red rimmed his eye and his teeth—his fangs—flashed white.
Heather stopped breathing. Almost stopped thinking. Then survival instinct struck her and she struggled to break free. He only smiled and gripped her harder, fingernails digging deep.
That’s what did it, that pinch. It snapped her together just long enough to ram a knee into his groin and twist her wrist free. She stumbled away, horrified at the hungry flicker in his eyes. The look of a hunter, eager to play.
If it hadn’t been for the half-drunk bachelor party that staggered around the corner then, Heather would be dead.
“Hey baby, join the party!” One of them grabbed her arm and pulled her along. She went willingly, feeling Alon’s eyes bore into her back, right down the alley and around the next corner. Even there, she could feel his presence reaching for her.
A police car rolled by, and she nearly screamed for help. But what would they say to a woman straight out of a bar, reporting a vampire? They’d probably book her, not him. So she ran all the way home, bolted the door, and yanked down every shade. She’d ended up locked in the bathroom all night, phone in one hand, kitchen knife in the other, wishing desperately that Buddy had lived longer, if only to see her through this awful night.
A tickling sensation where Alon had grabbed her neck told her she was anything but free. More like a fox released just long enough to make for a better chase. His eyes had promised as much.
Throughout that night, Heather called Cathy every half hour without a response. She called her all the next day, and every minute, another of her nerves frayed through. Finally, she steeled herself and went to Cathy’s apartment. The police were there amidst teary neighbors who shook their heads and tsked.
A terrible crime.
The woman had her wild ways, they whispered, but she didn’t deserve this. To be raped, beaten, ritualistically bled.
Cathy was dead, a victim of some sadistic group. What kind of monster would do
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