Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

flexing his hands open and closed, until he happens to turn and
glance at the window.
Our eyes lock.
I’ve never seen a look like his. There’s so much darkness
in his eyes, it’s frightening.
I suck in a breath and take an involuntary step back. My
hand rises to my throat. We stay like that—gazes locked,
neither of us moving—until he breaks the spell by stalking
over to the window and yanking the draperies shut.
When Sloane arrives twenty minutes later, I’m still rooted
to the same spot, staring at Kage’s blank living room window,
listening to the whump whump whump of his punishing fists.