Intensity

The asshole got away.

It had only taken moments for him to flash out of my grasp, saying he didn’t want to fight. Lie. I know my cousin better than anyone else. He loves fighting; he loves the look of spilled blood. But one thing that I wasn’t sure of was why he had taken Emmbla. What he planned on doing with her was beyond me. The only reason I could come up with was a constant dinner. Drinking her until she is almost dry, and then waiting until she replenished to take from her again.

Torture.

He wasn’t like the rest of us; he didn’t project emotions into his victims head. He lets them feel the pain. The sharp pain of knifes stabbing into your throat. I sighed as I paced the stone room where I had found him. He most likely took her to another place just like this. But there were so many others. This was a large world; he could easily go a mere eight miles to the next manor. All he needed was a dungeon, a moist basement. I sat down, this whole thinking thing was getting old. I had thought that letting her leave before my relatives arrived would save her blonde ass. Out of all the human females that have come into contact with me, when Patrick was around, Emmbla is the only one he had ever taken interest to. Actually, she is the only one that I had cared to fight for…

Shit.

“Wow, you look like shit.”

I jumped, and turned around. It was then that I heard the clacking of high heels. I rolled my eyes and mentally groaned. Felicity. She smiled as if hearing my thoughts and continued her way down the stone steps.

“Awe, Cullen. Who on earth has made you think. You always make that face when you think.” She smiled, walking toward me swaying her hips. I rolled my eyes, and stood.

“I only have this face when I smell your stench from across the room.”

Her eyes darkened at the insult.

“Why must you think I am just like him?”

I sighed, and headed for the exit. Not bothering to answer the dark haired vixen. Every time she came to the gatherings, she sought me out. Invited me to her room for the evening, trying to sway my thoughts on her. But every time I answered the same. Never wanting anything to do with her. She was one of my cousin’s trophies.

When Patrick was younger he used to seek out the most beautiful women. Young girls I should say. No more than seventeen years of age, and turned them. He collected them like the human girls he now collected. He murdered all the women that he turned, all of them except for Felicity. She was the only one that he kept alive. Why? I didn’t know. She knew though. She was the only one that did. I glanced back at her. She was scantily dressed, in a small skin tight purple cocktail dress.

“Why don’t you go bother Patrick?” I asked, knowing that she would give something away. She sighed and leaned against the wall, picking at her fake nails.

“He’s too busy playing with some human.”

I felt my jaw shift, and a red haze go over my vision.

“Where is he?” I growled. She peered up, her eyes shining. She smiled as she stood straight and sauntered toward me.

“I will tell you, under one condition.” She leered, walking toward me.

“And that is?”

She smiled widely, as she stoked my arm.

“Warm my bed tonight.”