Eli thought about that last time he’d seen his father. Drake standing beside the bloody woman. Her frozen there in the middle of the room. Her eyes puffy, wild with fear. Drake’s own eyes glistened with excitement. “You are my greatest disappointment,” he said to Eli. Then he slid the knife’s blade across that delicate spot just below the woman’s jaw. He grinned with obscene pleasure as the woman’s life leaked away. “What do you feel, Eli?”
Fear. Lust. Horror.
The emotions – his own, the woman’s, his father’s – tangled into an unrecognizable mass. Eli tasted the lust almost as if it was his own. Drake spotted that confusion in Eli’s eyes. The now-dead woman toppled to the floor. Drake grinned, feeding off his confusion. But the woman’s death snapped the emotions back into place. Her energy faded and Eli pounced on the one emotion he understood: Anger.
“You don’t have it in you,” Drake said in that moment when Eli reached for him.
Drake had been right. He wasn’t a killer, at least not down to his core. But his anger had been red hot and volatile. The touch sent a rush of current straight to Drake’s brain. Eli had dropped his hand, the sudden break knocking him backward with such force that he crashed through the window.
Now he wished he’d held on just a few minutes longer.
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