He loved the feeling of a pulse under his palms, slowing, fluttering—dying.
Listening to the music of wordless gasps for air. Watching the light in their eyes flicker, then fade into death. Just thinking about it made his own heart rate quicken in anticipation, his breath become labored in expectation.
Now as he stood in the shadows, his breath came quickly, his nerves jumping.
Waiting for the right moment.
Waiting for the right—victim.
He chose them well. Their perfect skin. Not a flaw, a scar, or even a stupid pimple. They were handsome, all of them. Their smiles stretched across white, unspoiled teeth, and some faraway light glittered in their eyes, enhancing the color that made a man lose his breath. Beauty was for the simple minded, the weak. Those with beauty had nothing else. T
