Page 37 of Blood Lust

While following the human for five minutes, I receive stares and appreciative glances from people as I pass them. A few attempt to make conversation, but I am oblivious to their existence. My hair spills out behind me in waves like a cape, catching on the night breeze that brings me his scent again and again.

He smells delicious.

I feel powerful.

I feel like the predator I am.

The other Wren is in there, commenting, but she hasn’t tried to make a play for control or even hint at it. I am running the show and she’s enjoying watching it. My confidence is through the roof.

Turning into a parking lot, I watch my prey climb a staircase and unlock the door to apartment L7. Mere seconds later, I am in front of the same door, my forehead pressing against the cool metal as I breathe in the human’s lingering scent. It is rich and savory, and I give in to temptation.

Has he locked it?

The knob twists easily in my grasp, and I grin as I push the door open. Slipping into the apartment is easy and quiet. I can hear him on the phone, deeper within. The sound is coming from around the corner. I shut the door behind me and lock it quietly.

He ends his call and walks past me, turning into the kitchen. Entirely ignorant of my presence. I move quickly and silently, standing directly behind him now, my body responding to every move he makes.

My human turns, fear in his eyes as he meet mine. Instead of screaming, I feel his body relax as he takes me in. He submits to my will, and his eyes give me all of him, fear slipping away instantly. “Sit on the couch,” I tell him and he complies.

I follow behind him as he takes his place. I nibble on my lower lip and place one knee on either side of him, memories of my last attempt at feeding play through my mind, and I push them away. This won’t be the same. I am in total control.

My human’s hand goes to my waist, I haven’t instructed it, but I assume it is a natural reaction. I place my head into the crook of his neck, breathing deeply. He smells like food. There is no more fear, but I can smell guilt. Pain. Sadness.

I like the smell of his misery.

Teeth grazing his neck, I hear his breath hitch as he holds me closer. It doesn’t take much for my brain to shut off. I sink my fangs into him and pull his blood into me.

I can taste his soul.

His anguish.

God, he is fucking delicious.

I moan as I drink from him, and he writhes beneath me. His good arm presses me against him in desperation.

He moves his hips against me, and I can feel his arousal.

“Wren.” He breathes in my ear.

What the fuck?

I pull back from him. He is done, his heart is slowing, but I have the urge to look into his unseeing eyes. Except that they are no longer unseeing. He is breaking through his compulsion, but how? “Wren, I’m sorry, baby, forgive me? I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

He captures my lips in a kiss. Uncaring that his blood still lingers there. He forces his tongue into my mouth, massaging mine as he does. I am surprised, but I do not fight it. Does he know me? Is this the man from the accident? That would explain his arm. Apologies fall from his mouth as he abandons my lips for my neck. He burrows his good hand in my hair.

“If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.” Whispers into my skin send a shudder through me. I can feel something awakening. “Wren,” his voice is pleading. “I missed you so much, baby.”

We shift, and my body lowers to the couch as he pushes me down. His weight on me feels familiar. I should stop this. I’m not his anymore. I am different. I am Oz’s.

The clinking sounds of a buckle draw my attention back to my human. He is guiding my hand, slipping it around his shaft. Pressing into me, he moans. “I’ve fucking missed you so much.”

Soft hands slide over my skin with a familiarity I’m not sure I like. He has ditched the sling, and is being extra careful with moving that arm. He undoes my pants at my waist and sends his hand searching, pressing his mouth back into mine. His fingers find what they are searching for, and he groans with longing into our kiss.

I have no such longing.

No arousal sparks inside of me.

He doesn’t seem to notice much or care. The way he drags his hand across my dry folds is uncomfortable. He thrusts into my hand, seemingly enjoying himself, though. “I knew you would come back to me,” he whispers, his voice heavy and filled with desire. “I just knew there was no way some fucking townie would steal you away.”

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