Prologue - After
Portland, Oregon 2012
Aimee
The heels of my boots click with every strike against the cold soaked cement. The dank night air creeps in through my thin sweater. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself and try to keep up with his pace.
I round the corner, staying across the street from him. I don't want him to get too far ahead of me. The street is crowded enough that if I wink people will notice. His outdated pleather jacket makes it easy to keep him in my sights. I roll my eyes and snort. No one but an immortal would be caught dead wearing pleather.
He turns down a dark alley. I grimace and wonder if perhaps he is looking for his next victim. He doesn't glance behind himself. He's overconfident. They always are. His kind always believes they are the strongest animals in the urban jungle. Most of them don’t know about me. The ones that have actually met me are usually in the throws of their own death. Introductions seem like a waste at that point. As usual, his instincts lie to him and allow for a false sense of security. He just doesn't know it yet.
I finger the platinum ring on my right middle finger with my thumb. I have always loved the thin red line running through the middle of it to the red rose. The ring is my mark. It is my badge. It permits me to follow the man. It makes my brand of deadly force acceptable.
I wink my right eye, flashing in front of him. I smirk at the flash of confusion in his eyes and grab his arm. He struggles for a second but I lift him into the air, before he has a chance to change into a worthy adversary. I shudder and gasp when my hands make contact with the warm fleshy meat of his throat.
The sparks fill me and the air around us. The touch of his skin makes every moment magnify, as my senses heighten from the feast. He chokes and fights, but it's useless.
His eyes catch the ring on my finger, recognition and fear spreads across his face.
"You're a Rose." He croaks.
His last words.
“Stop!” A man's voice echoes through the alley.
The fire of the spark dies, taking my meal with it.
I growl and drop the dead man to the cold ground.
I hate ending my meal that way. I lick my lips, wondering if my eyes still glow like molten steel. I have to admit, I think it looks cool. The man in the alley probably won't.
I glance down the alley to where a policeman stands with his gun drawn. I laugh inside at the way his hands shake with the sizable gun in them.
“Stay where you are.” His voice never wavers, but I can sense the fear coming off him. I realize suddenly his voice is familiar. Panic fills me.
I look around for an exit as his steps fill the silent alley. He squints, no doubt from the confusion over my still glowing eyes.
I smile, raising my hands, hoping to stop him in his tracks. “Run his prints and you’ll thank me.”
He continues to walk toward me cautiously, assessing the alley and the danger. “Get down on the ground.” He waves the gun slowly. I grimace and bite my lip. I could steal his gun and knock him out.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Really, would you lie on this street? This alley is filthy with germs and God only knows what else.” I try to be funny. He's going to recognize me any second.
A gust of wind blows past him, bringing with it a scent like laundry soap and deodorant. It's the subtle mix of windblown sea air that makes me feel sick. I blink forcing a tear to slip from my eye.
I gulp and push down my feelings. I love Aleks, he is the right choice. There is no doubt about that.
He looks at me in disbelief. “You, you’re the one? That's not possible.”
I can see the raw emotion on his face. His lower lip trembles.
I take a step back, putting my hands out further. “Shane, just pretend you never saw me. The medics will say heart attack.”
He shakes his head. “No, not you.” His face twists in pain. “Anyone but you. Why?”
I blink as the memories of every second of our time together crams into my brain.
Every touch.
Every smile.
I look down and swallow. “I have to eat, they make sense.”
He looks disgusted. “You’re eating them? How? They have no marks. None of the others had marks.”
I let the moment of shame fill me. I make myself remember his face the times I'd broken up with him. Broken him. I force myself to feel it all. I deserve to suffer.
I know deep down if I let myself look I will find the girl that wants to sit on the back steps of his house, listening to his dreams.
Instead I turn and jump onto the handrail of the stairs next to me. I climb the fire escape as fast as I can. I can't wink. I'm feeling sick and I can't possibly scare him like that.
I can still smell his fear but it has switched, it's a different kind of fear. It's emotional. I would know that smell anywhere.
The damp night air fills with his screams. I feel tears rolling down my cheeks as I try to block his desperate screams that consist of one word, my name.