Thanks for being patient…I’m working on the next chapter, see? Hopefully I’ll post tomorrow before I leave for Chicago. 🙂
Eric’s house was quiet and dark. When I opened the door, the smell of burned bread still hung in the air. I opened all the windows and then warmed a bottle of blood. I clutched it as I walked downstairs. I sat on the edge of his bed and took a deep breath. I could still smell my body in his room. It had been days since we had been here. I put my bottle down on the nightstand, and inhaled deeply above the pillow Eric had slept on. Oddly, the scent became more faint.
I stood up and inhaled again. It was stronger. Where was it coming from?
I walked into the bathroom, nothing there. It was definitely strongest in the bedroom. I opened his closet. I couldn’t contain a growl as the scent assaulted me. Why hadn’t I noticed it before, when I was taking care of drunken Eric? Oh yes, because he smelled like vomit and I made a point not to breathe.
I felt like a hound dog sniffing each piece of clothing hanging up, each one smelling more strongly than the next. I closed his eyes and moved his head until I pinpointed the source. It was coming from a black box.