Dark Destiny (Dark Sentinel #1) - Lexxie Couper Page 0,80
to do. But then again, changing into some freakish creature with wings and arms the size of tree trunks wasn’t something he usually did either. Not to mention tearing apart an ugly-as-shit squid monster until it was just a pile of sushi on an isolated beach in the middle of the day.
All in all, he had to admit, it was a weird fucking kind of day.
What are you, Steven?
He ignored the unnerving, irritating question, along with the roaring hunger gnawing at his gut, focusing instead on Amy’s home. It was a tiny first-floor apartment that always smelled of tofu and incense, with two narrow windows, one in the bedroom, one in the bathroom, and no secret nooks or crannies. A small living room, even smaller bedroom made up most of the floor plan, a kitchen about the size of a shoebox and a bathroom with a shower cubicle so small you had to step out of it to change your mind finishing it off. Amy loved it and had spent many, many hours searching flea markets and yard sales to decorate it in an eclectic mix of bohemian luxury and 1950s Australian retro. It was an unusual design choice, but it suited her so very well. Quirky and soft and welcoming at once.
Just like Amy herself.
And yet something about it felt wrong.
A twist of cold apprehension knotted in his gut and he narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t just the silence of her apartment putting him on edge, but the unmissable taint to the air, as if something malevolent had been there.
Something malevolent has been here, Steven. You. Remember what you did to her last time you were here? Remember what you almost did to her?
His throat grew tight and he suppressed a growl, moving from the kitchen into the living room. He ran a slow gaze over the space, noting it was in the exact same state it had been that morning. “Amy?”
His call fell flat in the silent room.
A ripple of unease shot up his back and his demon stirred. No, it wasn’t his demon, not like he knew it at least. It felt…different.
Crossing the living room, he pushed open the door to Amy’s bedroom. Empty.
And why wouldn’t it be. It’s what, four o’clock in the afternoon? She’s probably at work.
Curling his fists, he stepped into the room and crossed to its one small cupboard on the sidewall. The hollow ache of starvation he’d had in his gut for the last forty-eight hours was growing stronger. He needed to feed. Soon. The moment he found Amy he’d beg her forgiveness for his previous unforgivable behavior, on his knees if he had to, and hope to hell she’d understand how desperate he was. How close he was to becoming weak. He’d make it up to her, any way she wanted him to—shit, he’d even take her shopping—but if he didn’t feed soon…
He yanked open the cupboard and another twist of cold apprehension knotted in his gut.
Amy wasn’t at work. Not unless she decided to leave all her equipment at home. He looked at her camera bag and laptop, throat getting tighter by the second. Unless she’d discovered a way to photograph children and babies without a camera, he was pretty certain she hadn’t gone to work today.
Fuck.
He turned about, studying the room and its immaculately made bed and spotless side tables. Nothing out of place.
Again, the ripple of unease traveled up his spine. Again, the sense of something malicious on the air tainted his breath.
Fuck.
He strode from the room, the sound of the carpet pile crushed under his feet and the feel of the still air on his face almost making him scream. Damn it, what was the point of having hypersensitive senses if they couldn’t tell him where one defenseless female was?
Scanning the living room one last time for anything he may have missed—not a thing—he shoved opened the bathroom door.
The stench of Amy’s blood and urine smashed into him like a wave.
He sucked in a sharp breath, and recoiled at the taste of vampire on the air. The same vampire he’d detected on Amy’s neck that morning.
The mysterious entity inside him roared. Fierce and angry and purposeful.
Shutting out its rage, and his raging hunger, he studied the room. He needed to be calm and focused. Turning into bat boy wasn’t going to save Amy. Not until he found her, at least.
The room seemed as spotless and pristine as the rest of the apartment. Except…a small smear of bright