He barely noticed. All his senses honed in on her evocative scent.His smile, he knew, would be faintly triumphant as he traced the unique fragrance of night-blooming flowers and hot female flesh that had led him here, to the pulsing heart of New Orleans. For once, he didn’t care about showing his fangs or unnatural pallor. The simpletons around him would assume it was only part of a Mardi Gras costume. Foolish mortals. They wouldn’t know he was the genuine article until the light in their eyes faded away.Tonight was not merely a hunt. Tonight was critical to the survival of his kind. The perfume of the woman’s blood filled his senses. Despite the hundreds of guests, Raphael separated the light throb of her particular heartbeat from the others. It pulsed, warm and rich, calling to his inner thirst like nothing he had experienced since his turning. His mouth watered, venom flowed and his fangs grew longer in anticipation.Two days ago her scent had been a mere whisper, a seductive wisp that drifted in on the wind and coiled about his senses.
