wasn't teetering; he had never allowed himself to. And, unlike his brother, he hadn’t been to the canyon before. If an accumulation of visits was what had turned Dorian, Cameron was safe, from that at least.
He pulled his foot back and turned. Whoever was on the underside of the overhang, whatever their story, it wasn't Cameron's concern.
A feminine voice cried out. Despite himself, Cameron's gaze shot back to the hand. It scrabbled over the ground, and then, with another cry, it slipped from view.
With a curse, Cameron propelled himself forward. He flung his body to the ground and grabbed. His fingers wrapped around an arm: small, soft, and warm. Desire and hunger shot through him. He loosened his grip, enough the arm began to slip through his hold. The woman attached to it cried again, and, as if ordered, his fingers snapped tight this time, grasping a finely boned wrist.
He lay there, his white sweatshirt soaking in moisture from the snowy ground, the weight of the woman pulling on his shoulder as she hung from his grip, swinging ever so slightly like a pendulum.
If he'd had a heart, one that worked, it would have pounded like the woman's, but lacking that, only his mind pulsed with thoughts. He should let her drop. She wasn't his problem— at least not until he pulled her up to the ground beside him.
He should let her go....
“Hello?” The voice was soft and unsure... afraid... and it pricked at Cameron like a thorn.
He dropped his face to the ground and groaned.
“Are you... can you...?” The words were only a whisper now, as if she was afraid to hear his answer. “If you could manage to swing me just a little I think I can regain—”
Not waiting to hear her plan or to rethink what he was about to do, Cameron jerked his arm up and, in the same motion, surged to his knees. The woman's body shot upward too. He caught a flash of pale skin and fear-filled eyes. Then he dropped her.
She fell onto the ground before him— half of her anyway, her legs still dangled off the cliff's edge.
As she lay, her arms outstretched, hugging the ground, he shoved himself to a stand and turned to walk away.
“Wait.”
The word hooked into him and held him in place.
“My friends. We had an accident. I left to find help, but something—” She bit off her own words as if afraid to speak them.
Cameron turned back. “But what?”
Scrambling to pull her body the rest of the way onto solid ground, she didn't answer. When she finally looked up, she shook her head.
“Nothing. There was an accident. That's all.”
She was lying.
She rolled onto her side, farther from the drop-off, and patted the pockets of her loose-fitting jeans. Finally, she pulled out a cell phone studded with rhinestones. The glow of the tiny screen illuminated high cheekbones and bowed lips. She was pretty— pampered, little-girl pretty.
She punched in numbers and held the phone to her ear. With a curse, she shook the cell and stabbed at the keypad again.
The phone still cupped in her palm, she lowered her hand. “It doesn't work. There's no service. I climbed up that... And there's still no service.” Her voice shook.
Cameron shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away.
“Wait.”
This time he didn't.
“Wait!” Her voice cracked as she scuttled to a stand.
He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his hair and lengthened his stride. She'd said there had been an accident, that her friends were still there. Humans wounded, probably bleeding. Perfect bait for the monster his brother was becoming.
“Wait!” A hand grabbed the back of his shirt. The material tightened over his chest.
He spun. Air hissed from between his teeth.
She took a step back.
She should have run, would have if she could have seen him in the darkness. His fangs were fully visible, and he knew his eyes shone with hunger. He'd been hunting his brother for days. He was tired and angry... and hungry. Close to his own breaking point.
“My phone doesn't
He pulled his foot back and turned. Whoever was on the underside of the overhang, whatever their story, it wasn't Cameron's concern.
A feminine voice cried out. Despite himself, Cameron's gaze shot back to the hand. It scrabbled over the ground, and then, with another cry, it slipped from view.
With a curse, Cameron propelled himself forward. He flung his body to the ground and grabbed. His fingers wrapped around an arm: small, soft, and warm. Desire and hunger shot through him. He loosened his grip, enough the arm began to slip through his hold. The woman attached to it cried again, and, as if ordered, his fingers snapped tight this time, grasping a finely boned wrist.
He lay there, his white sweatshirt soaking in moisture from the snowy ground, the weight of the woman pulling on his shoulder as she hung from his grip, swinging ever so slightly like a pendulum.
If he'd had a heart, one that worked, it would have pounded like the woman's, but lacking that, only his mind pulsed with thoughts. He should let her drop. She wasn't his problem— at least not until he pulled her up to the ground beside him.
He should let her go....
“Hello?” The voice was soft and unsure... afraid... and it pricked at Cameron like a thorn.
He dropped his face to the ground and groaned.
“Are you... can you...?” The words were only a whisper now, as if she was afraid to hear his answer. “If you could manage to swing me just a little I think I can regain—”
Not waiting to hear her plan or to rethink what he was about to do, Cameron jerked his arm up and, in the same motion, surged to his knees. The woman's body shot upward too. He caught a flash of pale skin and fear-filled eyes. Then he dropped her.
She fell onto the ground before him— half of her anyway, her legs still dangled off the cliff's edge.
As she lay, her arms outstretched, hugging the ground, he shoved himself to a stand and turned to walk away.
“Wait.”
The word hooked into him and held him in place.
“My friends. We had an accident. I left to find help, but something—” She bit off her own words as if afraid to speak them.
Cameron turned back. “But what?”
Scrambling to pull her body the rest of the way onto solid ground, she didn't answer. When she finally looked up, she shook her head.
“Nothing. There was an accident. That's all.”
She was lying.
She rolled onto her side, farther from the drop-off, and patted the pockets of her loose-fitting jeans. Finally, she pulled out a cell phone studded with rhinestones. The glow of the tiny screen illuminated high cheekbones and bowed lips. She was pretty— pampered, little-girl pretty.
She punched in numbers and held the phone to her ear. With a curse, she shook the cell and stabbed at the keypad again.
The phone still cupped in her palm, she lowered her hand. “It doesn't work. There's no service. I climbed up that... And there's still no service.” Her voice shook.
Cameron shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away.
“Wait.”
This time he didn't.
“Wait!” Her voice cracked as she scuttled to a stand.
He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his hair and lengthened his stride. She'd said there had been an accident, that her friends were still there. Humans wounded, probably bleeding. Perfect bait for the monster his brother was becoming.
“Wait!” A hand grabbed the back of his shirt. The material tightened over his chest.
He spun. Air hissed from between his teeth.
She took a step back.
She should have run, would have if she could have seen him in the darkness. His fangs were fully visible, and he knew his eyes shone with hunger. He'd been hunting his brother for days. He was tired and angry... and hungry. Close to his own breaking point.
“My phone doesn't
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