Worn jeans and all.
“Neat trick,” I murmured.
He cocked his head to the side. For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something, but then he backed away, turned, and disappeared into the kitchen.
And he never came back out. When I checked in there later, he was gone. But knowing that Hunter could very well be any number of the shadows in the room, I cleared my throat and called out his name. When there was no answer, I tried again, and ended up feeling slightly nutso when there was no response. Either he was hiding from me or he’d snuck off somewhere.
I headed upstairs and spent an obscene amount of time going through the bags he had left there. Earlier, I’d only grabbed the first few items I’d seen, but now that I had them all spread out, Hunter had to have spent hundreds of dollars. Feeling guilty that he spent so much money, I went back downstairs in search of him, but came up empty once again.
I made myself a cold cut sandwich from what I dug up in the fridge, and as a way to say thank you, I made one for Hunter, leaving it on the counter, covered in plastic wrap I’d found in a cabinet.
Heading back upstairs, I moved my new clothes over to the lounge, unwilling to put them in the dresser. Doing so seemed too permanent. Like I was accepting that this could very well be my new home, at least for the time being, and that I would never get back to my job—and that like Mel, I would simply be no more.
Frustrated and weary, I took a quick bath, then slipped a tank top on that hit at the thigh. The moment I climbed into bed, I sunk into it. Maybe the feeding had sucked a lot of energy out of me, or it could just be the emotional and mental stress of everything. Either way, I was out the moment my eyes closed.
…
Fuck.
That was all I could think as I stared at the wrapped sandwich on the counter. Why in the fuck had she made me a sandwich? Did I seem like that kind of guy who couldn’t fend for myself?
I’d been standing there way past the acceptable time limit to be staring at a goddamn sandwich. Something about it pissed me off, which wasn’t anything new. Anger was what I knew. It was what I was bred in.
What little part of Serena I’d taken from her still lingered inside me like a tiny ball of warmth and light residing in my core. I’d fed from humans before. Never felt that way afterward, but Serena…
My hands twitched.
Along with something else that had been twitching from the first moment I’d laid eyes on her. Hair like spun sunlight and eyes a warm mixture of brown and green.
Those two things alone would make me want to covet her, but the whole package?
Fuck.
She was a tiny thing, barely reaching my shoulders, but she had one hell of a throwing arm. Her petite size was misleading. The female was strong and she also had a mouth on her. I kind of liked her feisty tongue. It provoked the domineering nature in me, sparking the need that existed in my kind: to control and dominate.
Fuck.
This wasn’t going to turn out good. No way. No how. There was a good chance that if Serena wasn’t killed for what she unwittingly stumbled upon, I would break her.
In two.
I didn’t know what the hell the agents were thinking by dumping her on me. I hadn’t heard from them since the day we hit West Virginia. She’d be safer taking the risk with the agents. At least they operated by basic right and wrong. I operated by want and need. There was no such thing as “wrong” to me.
Of course, I’d shadowed her all afternoon and evening. Even watched her stand outside the door she’d believed separated us while she nibbled on that plump lower lip of hers. I had liked watching that. A lot.
I even watched her make that damn sandwich.
Serena was an antsy thing, buzzing from one room to the next, like a little hummingbird, and I was drawn to that, tethered by the allure, the need that never really went away. And that wasn’t a good thing.
It was the last thing anyone would want.
My eyes picked the energy wavelengths and my body sought out those patterns. And she was throwing off a lot. Staring at the damn sandwich, I could still feel her soft hand on my skin—my true skin. Hell, I could still feel her body under mine, and the problem was I knew she was feeling me, and that made it all the harder not to indulge.
At twenty-three, she would naturally be a ball of a thousand types of energies, but there had been a whole hell of a lot of red surrounding her most of the day.
She made me a sandwich.
Fuck.
And I needed. I wanted. It didn’t matter that she was in a vulnerable position. What did matter was that she had taken a bath earlier and I’d wasted a shit storm of energy keeping out of that room. Now I wondered if she slept naked, which made my jeans too tight.
I shouldn’t be jonesing for a fix right now, but I was.
So, yeah, fuck.
I grabbed the sandwich and stalked toward the front door. Opening it, I threw the damn thing as far as it would go. I wished I could do the same to the fucking ball of light bullshit.
Shutting the door, I resisted the urge to slam it, because that would make—
A soft cry came from the second floor, and I whipped around, cocking my head to the side. Humans had nightmares. No big deal. Drifting to the foot of the stairs, I listened. The sound didn’t come again, but I found myself gliding up the stairs anyway.
Curiosity was a stone-cold bitch.
Opening the door to where she was, my gaze fell to the bed. Serena was lying on her back, the sheet draped over her chest. Unfortunately, she didn’t sleep nude, which made this trip upstairs sort of pointless.
I started to back out, but then her head turned to the side, and I stopped, going completely still. I didn’t even breathe.
Her eyes remained closed, but her brow was pinched and her face strained. The tight line her lips formed quivered. My gaze traveled down the elegant slope of her neck, beyond the flimsy straps of her top. Her chest rose and fell erratically. The air around her was a dark violet, the sign of fear.
I was drawn to the bed. A tremor ran down the back of my neck, shooting down to the tips of my fingers.
I really shouldn’t be here.
But I was.
I eased my hip onto the mattress, careful not to disturb her. What I did next was one of those things I knew I shouldn’t do but did anyway. Reaching out, I placed the tips of my fingers on her cheek and followed the straight line of the bone.
Serena’s breathing settled and deepened.
A slight smile tipped my lips up. So trusting in her sleep that a simple touch comforted her? I wondered if she’d feel that way if she were awake.
I did not touch to comfort.
My gaze followed the path of my fingers, drifting over the curve of her stubborn jaw, down the fragile expanse of her neck. And she was fragile, more so than she knew, especially considering whom she and her unfortunate friend had pissed off.
And considering that I was in the same space as her, the statistics of her surviving any of this was really looking bad.
Serena stirred a little when my fingers edged under the thin strap. I waited, wondering if she’d wake up. The energy around her was calming, but specks of red were beginning to appear. Arousal.
With my other hand, I eased the sheet down and was supremely rewarded for hanging around. Serena didn’t sleep nude, but a tank top was a poor choice when it came to concealing her body. The heart-shaped neckline had slipped down on one side, revealing the soft swell and dusky peach tip of one breast. Now I knew I was right on the whole curves thing. This little adventure was proving to be fruitful.
“Touch me,” she moaned softly.
I stilled, head cocked to the side as I studied. She was still asleep and definitely didn’t know what she was asking for, but that soft plea was my undoing.