The Hollow Moon (Downworlder Series, #2)

Chapter Seven: Frostbitten

The little rat was curled up on her bed. Her covers tucked around her as if she had created a little nest. She had tossed and turned for the night before she had gotten up in the middle of it. A sharp gasp and the faint scent of fear had been her awakening. That was a scent we enjoyed on her. Fear. However we hadn't been on her mind as she moved to one of her numerous work areas with her eyes glazed over with exhaustion. She had tinkered with her junk for nearly an hour before she turned around and crawled back into her bed, making that little rat nest and collapsing.

I hadn't slept in nearly a week. My healing was practically human and she could sleep without any issue. I wanted to shake her, tear my teeth into her flesh. I wanted to work out my aggression on her. I couldn't sleep and she slept undisturbed.

At first I had been concerned I would kill her, give up my position to those who hunted me but now I was supremely agitated at the thought that I could wake up fucking her, thrusting into her hard as I took her tanned, lightly freckled throat between my teeth. Her little panting and velvety groans sliding into my ears as I roughly slid into her again and again. Blood rushed towards my cock as it once again went rock hard. It ached and I refused to touch it, to give into its little fascination with the filthy mongrel.

The bond between us meant nothing.

It didn't matter that she killed with a brutality that was breathtaking in its application. It didn't matter that her body could twist and writhe to music in a way that could make a man cum in his pants just from watching her. It didn't matter that the thought of blood aroused her just as much as it did me. It didn't matter that the woodsmoke and cinnamon was nearly thicker in my nose than her impurity. She was filthy. A creature worth only the pleasure of the kill.

I tightened my hands into fists, letting my claws dig into my palms. I needed the pain to focus my thoughts. I had plans. I had to continue moving forward with regaining what I had lost. She was just a means to an end. Just a pawn in my game.

My wolf gave a deep growl. His hackles raised in her direction. He wanted to taste her, to feel her flesh tear under his teeth but our bodies reaction to her confused him greatly. We were so used to the filthy, impure mongrels bringing us nothing but disgust that having one in front of us that my body wanted nothing more than to slide between her tanned thighs and see what ways it could make her moan was utterly frustrating.

I shook my head violently. I couldn't even go near her to try and intimidate her, the woodsmoke cinnamon scent would coat my lungs and my mind would forget her impurity for a faint moment. My body would urge me to react, to take her pouty lips with mine. I let out a frustrated growl. I needed to get out of the space. Needed to get out of the little rat's nest.

I yanked my gaze away from her sleeping form and stalked to the window where her glass chimes caught bits of moonlight and scattered them across the room. I shoved the window open the rusty hinges whining at the movement. The foul scent of the city made me want to sneer but it was that or being stuck in the haze brought on by woodsmoke and cinnamon.

The streets looked quiet but I could faintly hear laughter and gunshots. My lip curled as I looked down at the city. So much impurity. I had focused on my own territory but the neutral territories held thousands of the impure blights that begged to be eradicated. The need to kill, to reinstate my beliefs within myself, dug in deep and I quickly glanced at the bed where the little mongrel slept soundly. She wouldn't notice my absence during her sleep and ask too many questions if I left.

I needed the hunt, the kill. I turned and my eyes caught the dangling pieces of glass. I had watched her diligently clean each piece before she added a single one more. A warped chunk of melted glass that she had held in her slim hands as if it were the most delicate and treasured object in the world. My fingers found it quickly, the smooth glass pinched between my fingertips as I twisted it slightly, watching the moonlight dance through it.