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No face, no weapon, nothing to indicate that he might do her harm. Just a man. But she is a girl. And she is alone. And it is night. And that is enough.
Men do not know what it feels like to be hunted. Men do not walk alone on dark streets and think about fingers closing around their throats or their skulls thudding dully against the pavement.
Because there is no need to fear if you are a man. You own the darkness. It is your space.
“It makes you look like a lesbian,” he said to her once. Lawrence Wolf failed, rather spectacularly, to realize that was precisely the point.
She is the embodiment of autumn with a touch of hell thrown in for a bit of excitement.
