Page 15 of Craving Poison Ice

It was slow, really slow, with his hand on the side of her face and her hands sliding into his hair. I watched, and I couldn’t stop watching.

I watched, and watched, and after a while I noticed a funny feeling in my stomach and decided I was bored. It’s not that they were doing anything wrong. It’s just that I was the kind of person who got bored quickly.

It was dark. I couldn’t see his eyes. I couldn’t help imagining what they’d look like right now, and what his face was doing. What he looked like when he wasn’t being careful.

Which was not a thing I should be thinking.

Then something happened.

She tilted her head, just a little, just to the side, like she was offering him something. And Maksim’s mouth moved down along her throat, and I thought, okay, here we go, and I looked away, and then I looked back because I’m nosy.

He bit her.

His teeth went into her neck.

I saw it. I saw it plain as day, one clean, slow, terrible motion. Her whole body went stiff and she made a sound, half-gasp, half-cry, one of her hands clutching the back of his coat, and I couldn’t tell if she was pushing him away or pulling him in.

What the—

What the fuck?

There was blood on his mouth, and it had a dark shine in the lamplight.

I couldn’t breathe. The crate I was holding gave a small, wooden creak under my hand.

And Maksim’s head came up.

He turned his face very slowly, like something on a wire, toward the sound, toward me, and even from thirty feet, even through the dark, I saw it. There were two points of red, just for a heartbeat, like a cat’s eyes caught in headlights.

I ducked.

I don’t know how. My knees folded, and I was flat behind the crates with my forehead pressed against cold wood and my heart trying to break out of my ribs, and I stayed there, not breathing, for a hundred years.

The footsteps were slow, and they were coming closer.

They stopped.

Snow ticked against the crates. Somewhere down the alley a drain gurgled. I could hear him breathing, or I thought I could. And under that, faint but unmistakable, a low, ragged inhale, like a man smelling the air.

Oh, God. He can smell me.

Then, for reasons I’ll never understand, the footsteps turned around and walked away.

I didn’t wait to find out why.

I ran. I got to Jason’s bike and I’m not sure how I started it. I don’t remember the ride back. I remember the cold and the lights streaking and my own voice, over and over, not even a real thought, just a few words in a loop.

What the hell was that? What the hell was that? Why did he bite her?

Maksim…

What are you?

Chapter 5

MAKSIM

What the Sable Saw