His beautiful face doesn’t shift, but the tension that dances between them has a different edge, now. He, like all the rest, is hungry, and he watches her with the eyes of a shrike, prepared to impale her on barbed thorns to keep her all to himself as he tears her to pieces. The creature who cocks his head and scents the air is something old. He smiles, and his teeth are sharp. “I’d recommend you run, little girl.”
