A hint of vanilla and spice on the icy breeze.
Apples, spiced vanilla, and the scent of the most delicious blood I’ve ever tasted.
Silver is to the East. Somewhere close to Arcanum Heights.
My feet are moving before my mind gets into gear. I hurry across the city on swift feet. It’s the middle of the night and the streets are quiet, enhanced by the half foot of snow on the ground. It deadens the sounds of my movements and the fresh falling flakes mask any trace of the path I’m making.
Within ten minutes, I’ve traveled halfway across the city and am at the base of the hill that leads to Arcanum Heights and its opulent mansions and neat streets with nothing out of place.
Sniffing the air again, the scent of Silver is stronger here. She’s through the gates. Her scent is stronger than it should be, and I pause for a moment.
She’s bleeding.
I’m up and straddling the eight-foot fence in my next breath. The rational part of me wants to hesitate and think things through, but my bestial side has no time. No patience.
From my vantage point, I scent the air once again.
She’s close.
So close.
I leap down, landing in a crouch before beginning the trek up the hill. By the time I reach the summit, a faint layer of sweat coats my skin and I’m breathing hard. I can practicallytasteher in the air. My mouth salivates, fangs extending. Her sweet, sweet blood calls to me. Practically begging for me to take another taste.
Most of the mansions in this neighborhood are dark, the occupants likely sound asleep after tonight’s excitement. There’s a special kind of arrogance to the covens that reside in this part of the city. An assumption that whatever happens, whatever ugliness taints the city, up here, they are untouchable.
Tomorrow, the news sites and papers will be full of the story of what happened tonight. There will be hushed gossip around the breakfast table, but no actual fear. The Archarcans will assume things will continue on as they have always done. Something tells me they’re about to get a rude wake-up call.
When finally I get close enough to the house where Silver’s scent is strongest, I practically fall to my knees with the potency of it. I take a deep breath. Smothering the part of me that wants to grab her as soon as we find her and haul her off to our lair. To feed and fuck. Fuck and feed.
For hours.
Fuck’s sake. I’m clearly losing my grip on my sanity. I don’thavea lair. I have an apartment. One that’s perfectly respectable.
I am not this creature that craves blood. That wants to sink my teeth into the witch’s delectable neck and take from her right as I fill her up with my cock and my seed.
Fuck.
I force my canines to recede with the sheer power of my will. The same will I exert on my dick. I can’t show up at wherever Silver’s sequestered away with a boner.
My movements slow as I get a stronger hit of Silver’s scent. She has to be very close.
The mansion in front of me looks much like all the rest. At least, until I spot the door has been kicked open and catch a scent of the occupants.
More of my kind. The ones oozing power.
Skirting the boundaries of the house, I search for a sign of where Silver’s being held. If it wasn’t clear before that she wasn’t here by her own design, now I’ve scented the others mingling with her, there’s no doubt. The gardens of the house are well kept. There’s neatly trimmed hedging, oversized topiary, and a small row of rose bushes just below the first-floor windows.
I scout the building, looking for possible entry routes.
This is not something I’ve done in years. Breaking and entering is far more Silver’s speed than mine. She and her joyful mage have broken into my office more than once. Her mage who always brings a smile to her face.
A pang goes through me. He’d better pull through for her sake or I’ll reach into the afterlife myself and yank him back for her.
This... violent side of myself is disturbing in how familiar it feels, like slipping on an old jacket left in the back of a closet. Worn, a little battered, but it fits just right.
I turn the corner to the very back of the house and spot the broken window. It seems I won’t need to dredge up any long-forgotten skills for breaking and entering. Then my eyes track the trail of bright red blood, which leads out into the garden before pooling in the snow.
This is why Silver’s scent is so strong here. She’s injured. Bleeding.
