Things to know:
-this scene is new, which means you've missed approximately 90K worth of material. This could result in some minor confusion or disorientation.
-scene is from antagonist's POV
-genre: paranormal romance
-full of typos and errors of all sorts, but hopefully somewhat entertaining as well
copyright 2008 Krista Heiser
He started to turn back toward the pub when he noticed a small, well-insulated figure making its way down the street. Her rapid heartbeat told him how nervous she felt walking alone in downtown Flint at night. Wrapped as she was in scarf and mittens, he could not make out her features, but her fear excited him more than a pretty face ever could.
He slipped the phone into his pocket and slid into the shadows. Her vulnerability sang to him. Every step brought her closer to his hiding spot, her anxiousness a sweet perfume to his vampiric senses. When no more than three feet separated them, he stepped out of the shadows and into her path.
Her fear spiked as she startled away from him, her pulse racing as an indrawn breath lodged in her throat. Wide eyes stared up at him from below a knit cap that allowed only a few stray tendrils to frame her face.
He drank in her fear with a long inhalation, his eyes glancing over the scarf wound around her neck. He did not need to glance up or down the street to make sure no one was watching. His ears would have detected any nearby heartbeat. He was deliciously alone with his prey.
Of course, the city was not asleep. The cold may have driven most of its citizens inside, but a few still ventured onto the snow-dusted sidewalks and streets. If he meant to take her, he would be a fool to wait for one of them to happen upon them.
She took a step back, her gloved fingers curling into fists. Despite her fear, he could feel her preparing herself to fight her way free of him. He mirrored her movements as she tried to evade him and, as he continued to crowd her, he could smell her fear growing.
A thrill of pleasure swept through him. This is what he had been missing for the last week. While Makenna’s pain and fear fed his hungers, they did not satisfy him, not truly. She knew him too well, knew what to expect from both herself and from him. This intimate knowledge of their natures had deprived him of any true satisfaction.
The woman tried to dart past him, her heart racing so loudly in her chest that for a moment it managed to drown out the city’s unique voice. Aedan grabbed her by the throat. He pushed her against the side of the building, pinning her between its unyielding surface and his immovable body. She gasped and wriggled as she struggled to breathe past his punishing grip. Her gloved hands scrambled to dislodge his bare-handed grip.
He closed his eyes and breathed her in, savoring her terror. When he pressed his body close to hers, the weight and shape of her breasts made an impression against his chest despite their thick clothing. To any passerby they would appear as lovers entwined in a passionate embrace. He slid his knee between her thighs and eased his grip on her throat, forcing her fear of pain and death to new heights.
He didn’t have to close his eyes to read her emotions, but it sweetened the experience. She was afraid of being raped. Raped and killed. She hoped he would be quick. She hoped it wouldn’t hurt as much as she expected it to. Then, with hope still alive in her breast, she prayed for someone – anyone – to rescue her from this nightmare.
Aedan leaned back enough to look her in the eye. He let the darkness inside him shine through his eyes. When she failed to recognize him as more than a common thug, he lifted his lips away from the fangs protruding from his gums.
She whimpered and tried to press herself into the brick wall, but there was no escape. Aedan took one last second to savor the woman’s terror, then, with great anticipation, he bit into the tender flesh at her throat. His teeth pierced her flesh and she screamed. The sound faded into a whimper as he drained her of blood, energy and emotion.
He didn’t take every last drop. He left her breathing but unconscious on the sidewalk. Eventually someone would notice her propped up against the side of the building and, after a breathless moment, they’d give her a shake. Depending on how long it was before someone noticed her, she might even be alive by then.
Behind him the pub door swung open and loud voices preceded the scent of alcohol and sweat onto the crisp night air. Aedan turned and walked away, wiping his mouth off. He had parked as near to the Scriptorium as the police presence had allowed so he was across the street and well away from the bar by the time the trio stepped onto the sidewalk and glanced in his general direction. If they saw him at all, it was only as a silhouette.