The next thing that Cat knew, she had the woman in her arms, begging for mercy as she had her blood drawn out against her will. Then the woman was dead, so Cat dropped her into the snow. She smiled to herself. She loved the feeling that the blood gave her; it felt as though she were floating on clouds, tiptoeing on water without disturbing the surface. Then it all shattered as she turned around. He was standing there.
His black eyes staring at her, not giving away anything about the soul within, if there was a soul. His black hair reminded Catalin of the raven in the garden earlier. Then it hit her: that had been him. Oh my God, she thought, trying to step back. She was frozen where she stood; mere inches away from the man that wanted to tear her throat out. He smirked, sensing her fear—an odd expression on such a cold face.
“Hello, Catalin,” he said.
“What do you want, Robert?”
“The usual: to hurt you, kill those you care about and all the rest of it.”
“You never hurt me. It’s always Alejandro.”
“I hear he’s been calling himself Alex recently, yes? Of course, I knew that; I’ve been following you for quite some time now. Ever since you came here actually. It’s been so amusing, watching him fall in love again. Does he think I won’t kill this one, that I’ll let her live when so many girls have died because him?”
“Why do you do this to him?”
“Because I enjoy it.”
It was only then that Catalin realised they were speaking in Spanish—her native tongue, but not his.
“That’s not the reason.”
“No,” Catalin said firmly, “it’s not.”
“Do tell then,” Robert said, the small smirk returning to his lips.
“I think you’re jealous of him.”
Robert stared at her for a moment, and then started laughing. It was a horrible sound. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard and cut through the cold air. It had stopped snowing a little while ago. “Jealous, dear Catalin? Do explain.”
“Girls fall in love with him, and they care for him. He has qualities you do not.”
“I could have any girl I wanted. I could even have you if I so wished. I don’t believe in love; it is pitiful and meaningless. It is weak. I simply take what I want, when I want it.”