Chapter 2 Kallum
KALLUM
Humans are predictable creatures.
They scurry through their days, clinging to routine, desperate for meaning in a world that has already forgotten them. Their suffering is self-inflicted, their joy fleeting, their passion pathetic. I do not care for them.
But him?
He’s different.
I watch him walk home from the abyss between the shadows, where the light dares not reach.
He does not see me, not yet. I don’t want him to.
But I see him. I have always seen him. The way his shoulders hunch as if he can make himself smaller, and the way his breath stills when he steps into the dark.
His fear is the sweetest scent I’ve ever smelled.
He says he does not believe in monsters.
And yet, he is my greatest nightmare. My obsession.
The other humans that begin to surround him in the parking lot are insignificant. Meat wrapped in skin filled with too much arrogance and too little substance. The three reek of sweat and hatred, nothing like the rich sandalwood of what’s mine.
Let them believe they have power.
Let them think they are hunters.
Preying upon someone's insecurities when behind him is something that does not fear them.
Christian tries to run. His heart slams against his ribs, fast and panicked. I could stop this before they touch him. I should. But I do not.
Let them dig their own fucking grave.
I wait, watching, feeling the heat of his terror pulse through the air over to me. The moment their hands bruise his delicious skin, something inside me snaps.
I move.
They don’t see me until I am among them.
A tall shadow staring down upon them. One of them—the leader, the loudest, the filthiest—laughs as he presses my fucking human into the gravel.
The sound is offensive. He does not get to touch what is mine.
He does not get to hurt what is mine. Only I’m allowed to do that.
The bastard barely has time to register my presence before my fingers wrap around his throat.
His body jerks, a marionette caught in strings, eyes bulging as I lift him from the ground.
The others recoil, confusion shifting into terror.
Their fear is a tangible thing, sour and frantic, clinging to them like the sweat on their skin.
The one in my grasp thrashes with his nails clawing at my wrist. Useless. I could squeeze. Crush his windpipe with the same effort it takes to snap a twig. I could rip the air from his lungs and watch the light in his shit brown eyes flicker and die.
It would mean nothing.
But the weight of Christian’s gaze on me? That is something.
I tilt my head as my fingers relieve some of the pressure, allowing the man to choke and sputter. He’s still alive only because I allow it.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing to my human?”
The others stumble back, their bravery unraveling like flesh from bone. The one in my grasp makes a garbled, desperate sound. I squeeze harder, just enough to feel his pulse stutter.
Christian is finally watching me. He can finally see me.
I should kill them all. Make him watch. Show him what I can do for him. How I can protect him.
But not yet.
I release my grip, and the man collapses to the ground, gasping like a fish torn from the depths. He scrambles backward, his hands frantically digging through the dirt and his blood.
The others do not wait. They run, their courage shattered, and their pathetic meat sacks carrying them as fast as their legs allow.
I do not chase them.
I turn to the only thing that matters.
He is still on the ground, wide-eyed, breath coming fast and shallow. His lips part, but no words spill out.
Good.
Fear looks beautiful on him.
I take a step forward. He flinches. Swallowing hard, his throat bobs so fucking delicately. It makes me want to press my lips there just to feel how frantic his pulse is against my teeth.
His fingers dig into the dirt as if it can save him from me. Adrenaline sings through his veins, a siren’s call, and I step closer.
“You—” he stops and shakes his head. “You’re not real.”
“Oh, Christian. That’s what you keep telling yourself.”
I take another step.
He scrambles up to his feet and begins to back away, putting space between us.
As if I will allow there to ever truly be space between us. I’ll let him think that he can escape me. Let him believe, for just a moment, that he can fight the pull between us.
The chase is half the fun.