The drug dealer's terror was lost on him. Llyn was unaware of what Frazier was feeling, for the first time that night. That freaked him out, even though he knew Frazier had to be experiencing the same feelings as him, disorientation, a cornered-animal urge to lash out, something suspiciously like a resurgence of the hunger that had plagued him earlier that evening... only so much less intensely than he felt them.
The killer managed to twist himself so his back was to the faery, clinging to his coat on the ground and the wall of the alley and praying neither would dissolve in his grip. Take me if you want, love. Being anywhere near my mouth right now is not a great idea. He didn't know why he'd said such a thing. He would have loved to have this audacious man try to tease his lips, just so he could completely ruin whatever part of Frazier got too close. He leered at the man over his shoulder, a low growl escaping his throat.
He hadn't noticed before how much Frazier resembled his last meal.
Now his Hell-dark eyes refused to leave the other man. Something in him was completely certain that this was the man he'd killed, that something had gone terribly awry tonight, that if the killer opened his suitcase, it would be empty but for a selection of newly-sterilized knives and many large plastic bags. He tried to speak, but it was difficult, and he didn't know what to say. One way or another, his memories were playing tricks on him.
He knew there were two things in that alley of which he was supposed to be master, and he could almost feel his teeth and nails as they begged with all their sharpness to set the situation right.
