“Just a little while longer.” The man leaned forward and took her lips into his.
Amaia broke free and kissed his neck. Lawrence had said she couldn’t kill him, but he’d said nothing about feeding. Amaia lowered her fangs and gently pricked his neck. It wasn’t as satisfying as her kill was sure to be, but she needed to get the man to sleep so she could leave. She sucked lightly, no more than a lover might do, and soon she had taken enough blood that the man laid back, drowsiness overcoming him.
“Go to sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake.” Amaia whispered in his ear.
“You promise?” Already his voice thickened with sleep.
“Of course.”
Less than two minutes later, Amaia heard the steady breathing that indicated he had fully succumbed to sleep. Rising from the bed, she dressed and left the man’s manor, attracting as little attention as possible.
Small huts nearby housed the peasants who supplied the manor. They would be a perfect place to find her next meal.
It would be easy enough to seduce a man, lure him in for the kill, but Amaia yearned for something different. She wasn’t a human, and she didn’t want to pretend to be one. What she wanted was to feel a man’s fear in her hands. Michael, who had always been so kind and patient, wouldn’t want her, no matter how his eyes regarded her when they appeared.
The full moon shone high in the sky, illuminating the quiet huts. She didn’t need the light, but it would glint nicely off her fangs.
She’d be hard pressed to find someone out at such a late hour, but that was easily remedied. Sheep grazed nearby. Their keeper would make a nice meal. Amaia approached the herd, letting out a perfect mimic of a wolf’s howl and running among the sheep, startling them into noise.
It didn’t take long for their keeper to come investigate the disturbance. He was a young man, near the same age Michael would be now. Freckles dotted his cheeks, and fair hair reflected the moonlight. Amaia crept behind him, waiting until she was close enough to touch him before allowing her foot to snap a twig.
“Who’s there?” The boy swung around, waving a dagger.
Amaia effortlessly followed his movements, remaining at his back. She repeated this game several times. Each time the boy grew more frantic.
Amaia approached him without making a sound and blew a cool breath on his neck.
“Ah!” This time when the boy turned, Amaia stayed where she was. The chattering of the boy’s teeth traveled on the still night air. When his eyes adjusted and he was able to see that it was a rather nicely dressed lady who’d frightened him, his face screwed up in confusion, and his grip on the dagger relaxed.
“May I help you, miss?” The boy was trying to sound as if he hadn’t just been terrified.
“Yes, you may.” Amaia dropped her fangs, snarling in the moonlight. The boy tried to scream, but all that came out was a strangled yelp as her hand closed on his windpipe. “We wouldn’t want anyone knowing you’re in trouble.”
Amaia leaned in, her lips brushing his left ear. “What does it feel like, knowing you’re going to die tonight?” Amaia pulled back to see the look in his eyes, allowing him enough air to breathe, but not to scream. His white orbs widened, and tears pooled. Hardly any of the dark blue iris peeked around the black of his pupils.
This time she murmured in his right ear. “Did you say your prayers like a good boy? Tell your mommy you love her? Maybe there’s a girl who will be crying into her pillow tomorrow night because her sweetheart’s gone.”
Teardrops splattered on her arm. The wetness on her skin was like rain nourishing dry ground. She loved this. Humans were nothing to her, a mere fascination when they weren’t providing her with the blood she required.
She examined his face for traces of the fear that radiated off him in waves. Even before she fed, the vibrations from this boy re-energized her. She delicately brushed his hair from his eyes, relishing the way he flinched as he wondered if this would be the killing blow. Her hands that could so easily take life could also be gentle.
“Shh. You don’t need to be scared. You won’t feel a thing; I promise you that. You’ll even enjoy the experience. It’ll feel like going to sleep. There’s nothing scary about sleep, is there?”
She peered at him questioningly, waiting for a response. With tears streaming down his face, he shook his head in quick, jerky movements. “Is there anything you’d like to say?”
Amaia loosened her grip a little more, and the boy spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Please.”
“Please what?”