2013, all rights reserved. Caelyn tried to understand was Elijah had just said to her. His lips had moved, he’d spoken words, but she couldn’t seem to make sense of them. “What?” she said, and her voice sounded far away, as if coming from somewhere else. “You need to get out of here,” Elijah told her, as he closed the door behind him and immediately began stripping off his bloody clothing. Caelyn was still standing beside the kitchen table. In fact, she was still holding her cup of coffee, as if Elijah might decide to sit down and join her at the table for a morning chat. She watched as he stepped out of his pants. He was now wearing only his boxer shorts, standing just inside the doorway of the apartment. His legs were muscular and powerful, like a sprinter. His torso and shoulders were perfectly sculpted. Everything about him was like a statue—the body of a god—come to life. Except for the blood. Splotches of blood were still visible on his forearms, his hands, even his neck, and there was a smear of red on one cheek.
