C O N Q U E R

[ ❄ ] ;; — He was being watched.

Again.

His eyebrow twitched, irritation sizzling through his veins at the persistent, ghostly sensation of someone's gaze pressing on his turned back.

He had to make the conscious effort to resist the decidedly subconscious act to look over his shoulder; had to resist the urge to peer beyond the shadows shrouding him and his felled prey.

Ignore it. There is nothing and no one there. Ignore it, damn you. Relish the moment of a good hunt; relish the taste of this female's flesh and bones; relish the feeling of a full tank; relish the—

A frustrated snarl erupted from his throat and he jerked his head around, his gaze angrily searching the length of the darkened alleyway and the emptied streets laying beyond the entrance.

Something unknown, peculiar was whispering along his superiorly heightened senses.

Inexplicably, his gaze zeroed in on the rooftop to a three-story house sitting across the street, its angular surface washed by the silvery light of the night's full moon.

The house was positioned squarely in the view of the alleyway; the house was positioned perfectly to provide a direct, unobscured view of him.

[ ❄ ] ;; — He lifted a marred eyebrow, the sensation of fingertips deliberately following the curve of his bicep earning his undivided attention.

He narrowed his eyes minutely, lilac irises heating with a celestial light, and he made a show of flexing his arm — his hand clenching into a violent fist and and his forearm snapping back toward his bicep, a massive shape of muscle manifesting beneath those assessing fingers; powerful, unyielding.