Edward was the closest to me. I started to walk back toward the bed. He spat in my general direction but didn't have the aim, so it splattered harmlessly into the floor. His voice.
The blade was stained black with blood. Isn't it an ethnic stereotype that you're good with a knife? I asked. One, he'd asked me for a favor, and being Edward he'd reveal all in his own sadistic time. But he stayed kneeling, staring at the cut flesh with eyes that still blazed pale blue fire.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.