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“I don’t...think so.” Erin’s skin had been flushed with color. Kissed by the sun. Vamps were usually paler than, uh, death.
The lady had been a real looker. Coal black hair, thick, spilling to her shoulders. Red lips. Cheeks almost brutally sharp. Eyes wide and gold. And a little black mole near the corner of her left eye.
Great body. High breasts. Round hips. Long, long legs.
Sexy.
Tall, slender, she’d walked with confidence and grace. Until she’d seen him. Then he’d watched her stumble, for just a moment.
Because she’d sensed what I am.Only another shifter should have been able to sense him.
“She didn’t smell like a shifter,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. Hell, he shouldn’t even be worrying about this now. He should be sleeping. Drinking. Congratulating himself on another job well done.
Not obsessing over a woman who clearly wasn’t interested in him.
Because smelling a woman, sniffing her like a freaking dog—that was the way to get a date.
“Just let me know if you hear anything about her, okay?” he finally said.
A cautious nod.
“Thanks, Dee.” He closed his eyes...and saw Erin.
Shit. He needed to get a life.
* * *
He needed to take a life. Needed to kill. Needed to feel the sweet trickle of life being washed away.
The Slasher, Bobby Burrows, waited just behind the bars. There he stood, stalking around and muttering about evil and devils and hell.
And annoying the hell out of him.
That bastard had been on the news for the last two nights.
Bobby’s fat, ugly face had been splashed across the screen—making him sick. Bobby Burrows didn’t deserve fifteen minutes of fame. He deserved a trip to the grave.
Bobby grabbed the bars of his cell. Tightened his thick hands into straining fists around the metal and screamed, “The fuckin’ devil marked me! I want reporters in here, I want my lawyer, I want?—”
“Relax.” He sidled closer to Bobby, finally stepping out of the shadows he loved so much and smiling. He jerked his thumb toward the group of guards who were watching television near the entrance to the cages.
Cages. That’s what he called them.To keep the animals inside.But sometimes, the cages couldn’t hold the animals.
He drew in a deep breath and caught the scent of the man’s sweat and blood. “They’re not gonna help you.” They were too busy huddling up and watching a game to give a shit about the guy left in holding. He smiled and hoped he didn’t look too hungry. “But I will.”
Bobby squinted at him. The left side of his face was covered by a large, white bandage. “What? Who are you?”
His hands rose to the bars, reached for Bobby’s?—
The Slasher jumped back.
Ah...not as stupid as he looked.“Why don’t you tell me who hurt you, Bobby?”
“I-I did. The devil?—”
“The devil’s not real.” He’d never seen him. Judgment wasn’t for the afterlife. It was for here and now, to be delivered by the strong.
“Yes, he is.” Absolute certainty. “Found me in the swamp. Changed before me. Ishotthe bastard, but he still came after me.” He licked his lips. “Then he cut me.”
