It had been five weeks. It was unusual for him to notice the passing of time at all, but notice he did. Five weeks of watching, and willing her to come to him. Five weeks shrouded in the chilly Autumnal fog. Five weeks perched on this lichen infested headstone, with the replica of his kin casting shadows on his face.
It was the candlelight that had given her away. She'd stood partially hidden, a silhouette with blurred edges, watching over her charge with an aura of peace and a loving smile. She was incandescent. She was perfectly good. He had to have her. He yearned to destroy her.
Heath sighed. He needed to stop this, forget her and seek other amusement. But something led him back here every night, an invisible pull of the most curious kind. Leaving before sunrise was becoming excruciating, but he had no choice. Daylight wasn't the realm of his kind. Life without love, life without light – that was the punishment.
He threw one last look at the upstairs window of the old farmhouse. The dawn was approaching quickly and the mortal lay sleeping. Peaceful and protected. He took one step towards the moors, and then froze. The air hummed with fierce energy.
"Are you going somewhere?"
Her high voice cut through the mist surrounding him. Electric. Bittersweet. He turned and beheld her face. Searching it for fear, for anger. She smiled back benignly.
"The sun hasn't risen yet," she hinted.
He continued to swallow her with his eyes. Feasting on her innocence. Her beauty. Sunshine hair bound in long braids, glacier blue orbs sunken in a pure, unmarked face. Then he casually leaned back against the headstone, the corners of his lips curling in the mockery of a smile.
"Cat, tell me, do you have claws?"
Her elegant brow twisted in confusion. He watched her, the thrill of the hunt thrumming in his veins. He waited for her to back away. His fingers itched to pull at the wings she would extend in her haste. In her flight.
Then she giggled. The sound was pure light reflecting off his skin. It seeped through to his veins, carving a path to his still heart. The innate purity made him draw in a breath, catching it in his throat. His dark eyes reflected the night as he pierced her with his gaze.
"Why do you watch me?" she asked, curiosity made her eyes glow.
Heath shook his head to clear his thoughts. He pulled himself up to his full height, towering over her. A predator once more. She shifted her stance towards him, craning her neck back. Beckoning.
"Did no one ever teach you not to talk to strangers?" he wryly asked.
She wrinkled her nose at his words. Suddenly, the air rippled with her annoyance. She quirked a brow at him. His tongue darted out to taste her emotions, anticipation curling in the pit of his stomach. Then she smiled, timidity clinging to her skin.
"We're not strangers, you and I. We're two sides of the same coin," she quietly said.
His heart audibly thumped; the sound resonating in his chest. His lips curved voluntarily this time. She was amusing, he'd give her that.
Stop playing with your food, darling. Words from a memory drifted through his skull. Long ago buried, almost forgotten.