Page 96 of The Cannibal

The wood chips crunched as I knelt over it, lifting the discarded dress to my nose. I knew it would be a good game when I could smell the blood sugar drop in her blood.

I moved my nose from the fabric to the air. The same smell was faint, but it was nearby. Clever thing, removing the blaring color. But now I can scent you.

She was weak, running on fumes. My poor shadow, forced to hide instead of run. I stepped along the woods, over fallen trunks and through the thick brush. I followed the broken twigs, heel dents in the mud, and the vague direction of her scent.

Vipera couldn’t smell anything unique to identify an individual like a dog might. But we did have an acute sense for blood, chemicals, bodily functions—more like snakes. Driven purely on our instinctual needs. Just as born Vipera only see reds and blues, red being most vibrant for obvious reasons. The only exception is when the blood fills our eyes and we can finally see the full spectrum, even if it leads to headaches when stimulated for too long.

It wasn’t long before the footprints became obvious. Too obvious.

They wrapped around a tree, then circled around before coming back and overlapping. It was a respectable try, but ultimately amateur. Snap.

My head cocked in the direction of the noise.

With steady steps and an even grip on the rifle, I stalked forward. There was a fallen tree, the roots tearing up a hole in the ground.

“Oh, my dear, that won’t do. You must be more creative with your hiding places.” I sighed, resting the rifle up against my shoulder.

I stepped just above the hole, giving her a moment to gather herself. I wasn’t too concerned about the hunt today, as long as she got the necessary kick of excitement to help trigger that pesky feeding response.

A blunt force met the side of my head, enough to make me stumble. I tapped my fingers against the numbness, black blood dripping from my fingers.

Over my shoulder, a wild and reverent creature.

My wife.

Alina’s chest rose and fell, her knuckles white as she held a heavy branch.

“Silly thing.” I shook my head as I faced her. “You should know by now not to strike unless it’s lethal.”

She was smart to discard her dress for the more natural cotton of her petticoat and top cover. But I wasn’t sure how the corset was serving her. Based on the flush of her cheeks and the dilation of her eyes, she was at her peak.

I flipped the gun down to hold properly with two hands, cocking it again to shoot at the ground in front of her.

She didn’t even scream, just ran.

Except she was running toward the ledge.

Fuck.

I threw the strap around my shoulder to chase after her. She stumbled about, using trees as support as if she could push herself forward faster. She found a sand path as the trees dwindled, running straight for an edge.

She was so incredibly lucky that she was never quite fast enough.

Her eyes caught me as she looked behind her, but my hand was already grabbing her by the bodice when she turned to look back.

Nails pierced my skin as she grabbed my wrist, and I dug my heels into the path.

Now I was breathing as heavily as she was.

A breathless, wild smile as she looked at me. Then she let go of my wrist with shaking hands. She leaned her head back, arms spread wide with an open chest. Her hair whipped across her face and stuck to her skin as it fell from the pinnings.

My grip was the only thing keeping her from falling back and over the cliff.

My grip never wavered, never moved from its place.

Her chest tightened and loosened against the corset, her heartbeat so incredibly fast, even for a Vipera.

Alina was the most deranged, disturbed madwoman.