Hunting Colby

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Urban jungles didn’t differ much from the wild when it came to hunting. I had to use all my shifter senses to track my prey and stay safe in both these places. Only my tactics differed.

Loud music thumped against my sensitive ears, masking most basics sounds, but I’d been trained to hunt during the intense thunderstorms that rolled off the oceans in my native Brazil. I knew how to deal with distractions.

Most of the people boogied, as my American friend Connie would have said, on the dance floor or gathered around the central bar. I wasn’t interested in them. The one I watched, from my empty table, sipped a drink while he stood at a bar in back of the club. Only couples seeking privacy surrounded us. They paid him no heed.

Or me.

A perfect place for a vampire to hunt.

I took a sip of my soda and leaned back as I propped my boots on a chair across from me. Surveillance was boring, but I couldn’t afford to make a mistake. I had to be sure this was the right guy.

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