If he wants to scream, he can't. Not because of anything nefarious on my part, though I'll admit that I'd thought about it.
Her scream is short and quick, covered into silence by his hand and I curse silently to myself. I'd been so intent on stalking him that I'd missed entirely that he was stalking his own prey.
It was hilarious in a pathetic sort of way how utterly unaware humans were. How they could sit within arm's reach of a predator, of a monster, and be none the wiser to the danger that sat sizing them up for whether they'd make a tasty meal or not. And it was even more pathetic when the humans that were the predators of their fellows were unaware of the apex predator that stared them down.
I really should have known better. But she had been so complacent, finally behaving after nearly 24 hours of torture, so I had let her down from the ceiling hook without bothering to knock her out first, intending to position her for my employer's imminent arrival. No sooner had her feet touched the floor did the bitch sock me right in the throat before bolting out of the bedroom.