Chapter 7 No.7

Bradford leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. It was a bizarre, intimate gesture. His skin was cool, damp.

He inhaled deeply, his nose brushing the sensitive skin near her ear.

She flinched, turning her head to the side instinctively.

The movement exposed the length of her neck. The carotid artery pulsed there, vulnerable and open.

Bradford's breathing hitched. The scent was overwhelming. Fear, sweat, rain, and beneath it all, the unique biological signature that silenced his demons.

His neurological storm was calming down, the waves of pain receding, replaced by a primal, starving hunger.

"You smell..." he whispered, his voice trembling slightly behind the modulator. "Alive."

She felt his teeth graze her skin. He wasn't biting. He was testing the surface.

Her skin crawled. A cold sweat broke out on her back. This was the moment. He was going to hurt her. He was a monster.

But she remembered the mission. She needed to know who he was. She needed to see his face.

She stayed frozen, playing the paralyzed victim.

He pulled back an inch.

"May I... take a bite?"

The question hung in the air, absurd and terrifying.

She blinked in the dark, her brain short-circuiting. "What?"

"Just a taste," he insisted. His voice had lost its command; now it sounded desperate. Like an addict begging for a fix. "To settle the nerves."

He was unstable. A junkie? A cannibal?

Her mind raced. If he was bargaining, he wasn't purely violent. He had rules. He had needs.

She decided to negotiate.

Her mind was screaming. Fight. Kill. Escape. But the mission... Elena... She needed his face. She needed a name. The words tumbled out of her mouth, a desperate gamble cloaked in the guise of a victim's plea. "If I let you..." she started, her voice shaking perfectly. "If I let you, will you let me go?"

Bradford paused. He seemed surprised that the prey was speaking.

"Yes," he said immediately.

"And the lights," she added, pushing her luck. "Turn on the lights."

"No," he growled, the aggression returning. "No light."

"Then no bite," she said. A flash of steel entered her voice. She couldn't help it.

A silence stretched between them. A battle of wills in the dark kitchen.

Bradford was fascinated. The mouse had claws.

"One minute," he finally conceded. "Dim light. Then you leave."