Page 14 of Bloodlust

“Why? My father never did,” I state. “Plus, I need the confidence of The Council. This should help.”

Zoey twists her lips up in concern. “You’ll be careful?”

“No, but I’ll get it done.” I dump the mug of coffee into the sink, the creamy liquid circling the drain before disappearing down the black hole. “Get to work, Zoey. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Okay,” Zoey says. “Where are you going?”

“To visit with an old friend.”

And with that, I head to my room to change my mask from pawn to queen.

From prey to predator.

I get into my car and drive until the transformation is complete.

This has become a ritual of sorts. More common in the last two months. I didn’t visit her often before, but now it’s almost every week. I’m not sure what this means. But I’m drawn here. Called to this very spot. Sometimes hours pass and I don’t move.

I watch. I study. I learn.

Predators seldom befriend their prey. It doesn’t happen. It’s not natural. And I’m her biggest threat. I have the potential to wipe her out of existence.

But as I stand in the tunnel, hues of blue water and earthy-colored sea urchins surrounding me, I know that logic and circumstance don’t always align.

She’s the predator of her world.

Me of mine.

My gaze follows Maeve, my idol, my inspiration, as she swims confidently, knowing that she’s the queen. That nothing, and no one, can tear her apart.

A part of me thinks we understand each other. An unspoken bond of mutual respect.

Maeve probably has the same amount of blood on her hands—well, fins, I suppose—as I do. But that’s just the way it is. No one judges Maeve. It’s in her nature.

She was born to be a predator. It’s in her DNA. And I doubt she feels remorse. Why would she? She does what she needs to do to survive. To stay alive. It’s the hierarchy of the animal kingdom.

She’s on top.

And so am I.

The only difference is that I’m human.

My blood is warm.

And as much as I crave the warmth, I can’t help but wonder: If my blood was cold, would this all be easier?

“How do you do it?” I whisper, scanning Maeve’s large beady eye. “Tell me.”

“Interesting...” A husky voice hums from behind me. “The parallel.”

Predator or prey? Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

“Dr. Malcolm,” I say, turning around. “Are you stalking me?”

“How can I?” He slips one hand into his jacket pocket, the vibrant colors of the aquarium reflecting off of his glasses. “Based on the information you wrote on the intake form, you don’t exist.”

I study his sharp features cautiously. “You looked me up?”

“A fruitless attempt, I’ve surmised,” he replies, glancing at me. “Did you know that sharks are silent creatures? They don’t have vocal cords.”