chapter TWO
Eric was standing with his back to me. His arms were folded confidently across his chest. A dark shirt clung to his torso. Jeans hugged his narrow hips. Golden brown hair was tousled and gleaming in the early morning sunlight. A massive window was behind him, painting him in rays of light. When I saw him, a wave of lust washed over me. Desire pulsed, warming my body. My heart throbbed in my chest. My eyes slid over his slender frame causing my fingers to twitch. I wanted to undress him, button by button. The thought of feeling his skin beneath my hands coursed through me. My lips parted, and a shallow breath rushed out. My eyes slipped over his entire body in a gaze that would have made me blush. I leaned harder on the door, fighting the lust that hazed my thoughts.
The blood lust was an issue, but I’d overcome it before. I thought I could do it again, but I didn’t plan on spying on him before attacking. The delay sent my body into an internal war. I fought back, trying to subdue the effect of his blood on me. In the end my mind made a merger that the lust-driven side and the vengeful side could agree on—blood. They both wanted his blood spilled on the floor, taken from his body so that he was no more.
Eric didn’t move as I drooled at him behind his back. He seemed unaware of my presence. And no one was with him. He appeared to be speaking into a phone on the desk. Hope swelled within me. This is what I’d wanted. The muscles in my arms twitched, making my fingers press against the blade in my hand. The haze of lust that had glued me to the door was thick. I had to temper it, and I knew exactly how.
Since the night Al died, I’d pressed back the anger and grief at her loss. The feelings didn’t stop, but I couldn’t deal with them until Eric was dead. So, I shoved them deep inside of me. Anger, betrayal, lust, remorse, and more—they all lingered in the back of my mind, silently choking me for weeks. But now, now they would fuel my vengeance. They would topple the effects of Eric’s blood. There was only one chance, and I knew it. Eric was a better fighter than me, and he wasn’t wounded. I was. There was one chance to kill him, and I took it.
The floodgates of my mind—the ones that held my rage in check—cracked opened. I felt a wave of raw emotions rip through my body. Any trace of lust drowned in a wave of blind hatred. Every part of me tingled, and tensed as I threw my shoulder into the door. It flew open, crashing against the wall with a loud thud. And I sprang at him. My body flew through the air with my hair streaming wildly behind me, illuminated with a faint purple flame at the tips. A singed scent filled my nostrils. I disregarded it. The muscles in my back flexed. The power built in my arms. And I swung my deadly silver blades at Eric’s chest.
But, Eric didn’t turn. He didn’t move. Instead, he continued to stare out the window as I hurtled through the air toward him. Something was wrong. A desperate cry ripped out of my throat as I tried to stop myself, but it was too late. I collided with the stone-still Eric, knocking him to the floor. As soon as my fingers touched his cold arm, the boy turned to ash. Springing to my feet, I whipped my head around the room. No one else was there. My heart hammered in my chest. Sweat poured down my spine. I spun around looking for him, my eyes sifting through shadows. I stepped away from the pile of ash, and spoke into the empty room.