Page 33 of Her Midnight Stalker

“Forget it,” I say.

She shrugs, gathering her book and her spell components, and leaving.

The last thing I want to do is keep Caspian from coming near me. Lately, he’s all I think about.

And I know how it looks to the people around me, but I want this more than anything. I wish that they would understand that.

As I head back into my apartment and kick my feet up to an episode of Survival Island, relieved that I at least get the day to myself, a horrifying thought crosses my mind.

What if Caspian senses that I had some part in that spell when he’s not able to enter, and he loses interest.

My mind drifts too much. I’m not able to focus on the episode. I see the characters moving around the scheme - I hear their dialogue - but no part of my mind really processes any of it.

I heave a heavy sigh. In a last ditch effort, I spend the next thirty minutes looking around my apartment for some sign that he’s been here and everything will be okay. Perhaps this time, he simply hid the present somewhere?

I check all the cabinets, under the coffee table, all around the bed, and even in the bathroom, frustrated to find nothing there.

She hadn’t put any kind of ward up last night. So why didn’t he visit me? Why did he leave me alone like that?

My mind drifts through many unreasonable scenarios - or I try to tell myself they’re unreasonable. Maybe he lost interest. Maybe he never really intended for this to be anything long-term. What if I’m not the only woman he’s actively seducing?

What if I’m not special?

I feel sick from the anxiety. I just want Caspian here, by my side. He might be dangerous, but now that I’ve felt him, I’m not sure how to live without him.

20

CASPIAN

The computer monitor taunts me with its glowing menace. I haven’t been able to sleep during the day, images of Quinn taking over my abstract mind, the pictures that come with her body and flesh disrupting my view of darkness as I close my eyes. Plus, I can’t even go out in the sun, having neglected to feed. I’m thankful that PEACE lets me work the case in the evening — since Quinn, I haven’t fed, and I frankly don’t want to.

I only crave her blood. Her essence. It is mine to use as I choose.

Renn’s words ring in my ear. I’m not over my head. I’m not obsessive. Besides, what would a werewolf know about eternal love?

I know Quinn desires me, longs for my possession of her entire being.

In front of me, the picture of a man glares straight at me with blank eyes. His skin not only resembles leather, but just the look of the wrinkles under his eyes brings up the smell of hide out in the sun. His stubble, gray and patchy, suggests a life of a vagabond, and thin, cracked lips in a sunken scowl could mean missing teeth.

It’s a face worn by one thing: drugs. Many of these small clans supplement their nefarious activities with the sale of speed; if there’s plenty on hand, that means they are dipping into the supply, rotting their minds, brewing hatred and acrimony.

The leader of the Moonlight Sentinels, the clan of vampires behind my case. The clan that hunts humans.

They must be stopped.

Informants have given us details about how they operate. It’s very clandestine, under cover, never in the same place. As soon as we find any building or campsite where they can be found, they’ve already left; a couple of times we’ve recovered weapons at these sites — mostly modified bows and martial arts weapons, never firearms, for some reason. Whoever these guys are, they want to look the vampire in the eye as he melts.

This is personal.

This is spiritual warfare.

But do I have enough energy to do this job? I must feed soon. Quinn intoxicates my innermost being, down to my marrow, and the thirst for her prevents me from thinking abstractly, or sometimes, thinking at all.

I feel a punch to my shoulder.

“Caspian, you fucker,” Ren says from behind me. He tousles my hair. “We got ‘em. Those bastards, we got ‘em.”

Yeah, we sure did. But my thoughts are elsewhere.

---