Autumn was indeed, feel hungry. Wanting to eat everything in sight. Red fire coursed through her veins, setting her on fire and heightening her already acute senses.
She inhaled deeply, taking in the opulent aroma of him like a bottle of fine wine. His scent was a combination of his flesh and blood, and the raw maleness that comes with it. Oh, how she yearned for a sip. She only needed one tempting drop to satisfy her hunger. She licked her lips and licked him, enjoying the salty, smooth, and delectable flavor of his skin. She licked her way from his jaw to his neck, the taste of his flesh lingering in her mouth and making her want more.
She closed her eyes and squealed, "I want more," as her hands reached for chiseled muscle. She scratched ridges into her stony skin to declare her dominance. He belonged to her. Their lives were intertwined, but she held his as securely as she held his.
His response was gruff, "Yeah, I know. Autumn, I know what you are and what makes you tick."
She felt warm fingers stroking her back and listening to her heartbeat. With one fluid motion, the metal chilled her all the way from the pulse in her neck to the pit of her stomach. In an instant, she opened her eyes and saw the man hovering over her in the form of a looming black silhouette. When it stopped at the hollow of her thigh, the knife's blade ruffled the triangular section of her black, silky hair. She suddenly stopped taking breaths.
She screamed, "No!" and then, despite the pitch blackness, she could make out his icy laughter and the chill of his ruthless grin.
"Okay, sweetie." The enticement in his voice vanished as he asked menacingly, "Did you think you could deceive me?"
She flinched as he circled the blade around her aching nipples. Her heart raced as a hedonistic cocktail of dread and lust pumped through her veins. She took a deep breath, sensing his rage as strongly as his attraction and the moist heat between her own legs. She tensed up, her stomach knotting, pain coursing through her just as intense and terrifying as the desire she'd felt before.
She tried desperately to concentrate, but her fever rose even higher. She experienced a refocusing of her vision followed by a refocusing and a blurring of it. White knuckles clenched the sheets tightly. That wouldn't be possible at this time!
"I recognize you, Autumn." His words seeped into her ears and sparked fire in her nerves.
Her hiss came from some primal, inherently evil part of herself that had been aroused and roused by her natural, instinctive fear. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, as if it were trying to bust her open and spill out whatever was hiding inside.
In the plush darkness, the knife gleamed like a silvery fire. "What's inside of you is dormant, but I can awaken it." And with those words, the knife was drawn. The metal dove at her, twisting as it tried to suffocate her. Her muscles spasmed and ached as if hit by an electrical current. There was a deep, unearthly growl to her scream. The suffering ended at that point. There was only hunger, an insatiable hunger, and the thunderous roar of pent-up rage. Blood ran sweet and sticky over her hot skin as it was slashed and torn by sharp claws.
There was a jolt of red as the shadows shifted, and the alluring scent of death wafted on the night air.
Suddenly, Autumn Herrera sat bolt upright, both hands grabbing the wheel. She took a few shallow breaths, her eyes darting all around as she took in the gloom of the car. There was a brief pause while she sniffled. A rush of excitement sped through her mind as the sour odor of trash mixed with the warm, sultry night air. As the door opened and closed, someone would dash across the street, amplifying the bass guitar's throbbing beat on the night breeze.
She whispered to herself, "What a scary nightmare!" as if saying the word out loud would slow the racing of her heart. It was the same crazy nightmare that had been haunting her dreams for months now.
"Babe, I got something for you." A man's accent interrupted her train of thought. She looked at the young man through the grimy windshield. He was dressed in dirty jeans and a torn T-shirt. He held a beer can in one hand and his crotch in the other as he continued, "Some really nice stuff, Babe. Never before have you had it so good."
To her relief, the rented car Autumn had used had tinted windows, so she rolled up the window. That was the only positive aspect of the situation. There was no working air conditioning, the stereo was dangling from the dashboard by a tangle of wires, and the passenger seat had a huge gash in it where the foam stuffing had blown out. The interior's plight caused her to wrinkle her nose. Her own actions caused this. She had requested an extremely vintage automobile for this reason. She had left her window open, effectively issuing a verbal invitation to any nearby criminals, so it had done her a lot of good.
She felt sick to her stomach at the realization that she had fallen asleep with the window down and been driving down this cursed street. In the past, she had never experienced fear. In the past few months, she'd been experiencing a brand new emotion: fear. To which she had not yet developed a tolerance. "Don't hold your ground, Baby. I promise to give it to you. It will leave you wanting more."
Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that happening in her lifetime. She pressed the lock and glanced over to the other side. In spite of this, she felt no better. Not until he pounded his fist on the hood, gave her the "go to hell" eye, and hissed at her. "Loose-lipped whore!" He hobbled out onto the street and joined the group of men who'd been watching, hooting, and urging him on.
She took a few deep breaths against her will and released her hold on the wheel. Taking a quick glance at her watch, she experienced a mixture of disappointment and relief, the intensity of which she was unsure of. If she was feeling anything, it should have been disappointment.