Sentinal's Tear (Book #1 in Requiem Series) [formally titled Lacrimosa]

Chapter 4

Aydan

I watch as the girl runs from me, intrigued. Her scent, the one I crave, floats in the air, igniting my hunger.

The hunt begins.

Everything about this girl is exactly what I need—enticing looks, desire she can't control, and enough fear to feed an army of dark creatures.

But it isn't her emotions pouring forward that excite me. It's her confusion, her chaos. Almost like she's never felt so out of control before. It's intoxicating, addicting.

There's a familiarity in her endless blue eyes, a kind of haunting that reminds me of only one other. The one I can't forget. The one I dare not remember.

More than enticing, this girl is dangerous.

"Not going after her? That isn't like you." My master stands behind me, his human form so like my own. Black hair, chiseled features, young in appearance, despite the four millennia that has defined his existence. His cold voice echoes disappointment. "You haven't finally met your match, have you?"

"Never," I growl.

"Don't get mad. You're allowed an off day." I feel his eyes on me, waiting. "Occasionally."

His threat hangs in the air. Each passing second awakens the Beast inside, igniting my rage. Rage for letting the girl leave, rage for needing her soul at all.

Rage for remembering things I shouldn't.

A satisfied smile curls my master's lips. "Nice. Very nice."

I cannot watch him take pleasure in my torment, feed from my anger. Cannot let him know the thoughts that refuse to release me.

Her eyes. Her lips.

Her.

I weave through the club, watching as my brethren, dark creatures of every assortment, consume the sins of the naïve teen crowd. The demons snap their beaks and claw the air, drinking in the lust, greed, and envy of the crowd. The teens have no idea that many of them may not survive the night. They are all lambs to the slaughter.

For the first time in centuries, the creatures' actions bring disgust. I have to get away, get a hold of myself before my master notices there's a problem.

I leave the club, inhaling the stale cold air of the rotting city. I reach the train and descend the steep stairs that lead to the subway platform. My thoughts are heavy, laden with emotions I shouldn't be feeling. Not anymore.

I stare down the dark tunnels, trying to clear my mind. But the harder I try not to think of her, the more her blue eyes haunt me.

Images spring to life in the empty shaft. Abandoned feelings crest over me. Anguish, rage, shame.