scream.
Instinct kicked in and he pinpointed the location in a matter of seconds. Five blocks away. He resisted the urge to increase his eyesight. It was easier to explain his Behn mask in the dead of the night than with the sun lighting his face like he was on the walkway of Project Runway .
Gabe’s choice of program, not his.
The scream and struggling noises led him to a deserted street. The buildings were tall and blocked most of the sun, forming shadows. He stopped. Closed his eyes.
Two pounding hearts.
Ice flowed through his veins. One in fear.
The other, excited.
He flicked his gaze from one brick building to another, stopping at the one with a rental sign in the window. It sat between a bondsman and a tattoo parlor. The tat place was closed. The bondsmen had a broken open sign that just flashed pen .
The middle building’s door was unlocked. Hand on the knob, Lucas stopped. Listened. Whoever was in the building wasn’t right behind the door. Inside he paused in an empty reception room. One small hallway to the left behind the counter.
Lucas reached for the gun at his hip and the knife at his back, patting only skin. A soft growl rumbled in his chest. No weapons. Hopefully the Follower didn’t have a gun. He wasn’t in the mood to dig bullets out of his body.
Another scream, this one muffled. Lucas jumped over the receptionist’s counter and flew down the hallway. He checked the first two rooms. Empty.
He moved faster than any Follower could trace, raced across the entrance to the third, glanced inside, pivoted, tore into the room, grabbed the male off of the nheqeba and threw him.
The zakaar slammed into the wall, head cracking before he slid to the floor, not moving, pants around his ankles. Lucas crouched next to the female. She lay on the unclean floor, eyes glazed. Tears, blood, and dirt ran down her cheeks. Lucas straightened her dress. Her panties had been ripped off.
Anger roared dully in his ears. Lucas met the nheqeba’s gaze. She stared at him. Eyes widening. In fear.
Shit . When had his fangs descended? Lucas couldn’t beat them back, not with the fierce wave of hatred storming through him. He entered her mind, set her at ease, and erased his image. Gently untying the ropes around her wrists, he helped her to the door.
Before releasing control, he implanted a memory. She managed to get away from her rapist but needed medical assistance. The police department was closest, but he gave her directions to the hospital.
No need for officers coming to investigate so soon. He wanted a bit of time with the zakaar first. Her fear, as he released her mind, was a dash of ice that didn’t completely fade when he stormed back to the room.
Lucky day, the male had begun to stir.
“Wakey, wakey.” Lucas rapped the side of the zakaar’s head with his knuckles.
The Follower groaned.
Lucas paused. Followers fell under the Creator’s protection.
Why would the Creator choose to protect this monster? The male was no better than a Fallen. Preying on the weak. Abusing his strength and power.
“Wha-what’s going on?”
Lucas’s eyes glowed, giving off its blue Behn light, and he didn’t bother to hide his fangs. “You like to abuse females?”
The zakaar blinked. Blinked again, like he was having trouble focusing. He opened his mouth and inhaled, no doubt to pussy scream. Lucas clapped a hand over the male’s mouth.
“You don’t get to scream. You don’t get to ask for help.”
The zakaar struggled to escape. He repeatedly banged into the wall. Did he hope each time would give him a different result? A rush of fear swam through Lucas again. Stronger than this zakaar could emote.
Lucas whipped around, expecting the nheqeba’s return or perhaps another Follower had ventured inside. The room was empty. Still holding the zakaar down, he used his senses to search the building. No other heart beats, no other scents. He turned back to the zakaar . They were still alone.
Lucas grinned,
Instinct kicked in and he pinpointed the location in a matter of seconds. Five blocks away. He resisted the urge to increase his eyesight. It was easier to explain his Behn mask in the dead of the night than with the sun lighting his face like he was on the walkway of Project Runway .
Gabe’s choice of program, not his.
The scream and struggling noises led him to a deserted street. The buildings were tall and blocked most of the sun, forming shadows. He stopped. Closed his eyes.
Two pounding hearts.
Ice flowed through his veins. One in fear.
The other, excited.
He flicked his gaze from one brick building to another, stopping at the one with a rental sign in the window. It sat between a bondsman and a tattoo parlor. The tat place was closed. The bondsmen had a broken open sign that just flashed pen .
The middle building’s door was unlocked. Hand on the knob, Lucas stopped. Listened. Whoever was in the building wasn’t right behind the door. Inside he paused in an empty reception room. One small hallway to the left behind the counter.
Lucas reached for the gun at his hip and the knife at his back, patting only skin. A soft growl rumbled in his chest. No weapons. Hopefully the Follower didn’t have a gun. He wasn’t in the mood to dig bullets out of his body.
Another scream, this one muffled. Lucas jumped over the receptionist’s counter and flew down the hallway. He checked the first two rooms. Empty.
He moved faster than any Follower could trace, raced across the entrance to the third, glanced inside, pivoted, tore into the room, grabbed the male off of the nheqeba and threw him.
The zakaar slammed into the wall, head cracking before he slid to the floor, not moving, pants around his ankles. Lucas crouched next to the female. She lay on the unclean floor, eyes glazed. Tears, blood, and dirt ran down her cheeks. Lucas straightened her dress. Her panties had been ripped off.
Anger roared dully in his ears. Lucas met the nheqeba’s gaze. She stared at him. Eyes widening. In fear.
Shit . When had his fangs descended? Lucas couldn’t beat them back, not with the fierce wave of hatred storming through him. He entered her mind, set her at ease, and erased his image. Gently untying the ropes around her wrists, he helped her to the door.
Before releasing control, he implanted a memory. She managed to get away from her rapist but needed medical assistance. The police department was closest, but he gave her directions to the hospital.
No need for officers coming to investigate so soon. He wanted a bit of time with the zakaar first. Her fear, as he released her mind, was a dash of ice that didn’t completely fade when he stormed back to the room.
Lucky day, the male had begun to stir.
“Wakey, wakey.” Lucas rapped the side of the zakaar’s head with his knuckles.
The Follower groaned.
Lucas paused. Followers fell under the Creator’s protection.
Why would the Creator choose to protect this monster? The male was no better than a Fallen. Preying on the weak. Abusing his strength and power.
“Wha-what’s going on?”
Lucas’s eyes glowed, giving off its blue Behn light, and he didn’t bother to hide his fangs. “You like to abuse females?”
The zakaar blinked. Blinked again, like he was having trouble focusing. He opened his mouth and inhaled, no doubt to pussy scream. Lucas clapped a hand over the male’s mouth.
“You don’t get to scream. You don’t get to ask for help.”
The zakaar struggled to escape. He repeatedly banged into the wall. Did he hope each time would give him a different result? A rush of fear swam through Lucas again. Stronger than this zakaar could emote.
Lucas whipped around, expecting the nheqeba’s return or perhaps another Follower had ventured inside. The room was empty. Still holding the zakaar down, he used his senses to search the building. No other heart beats, no other scents. He turned back to the zakaar . They were still alone.
Lucas grinned,
Similar Books
