Edge of Hunger. Rhyannon Byrd

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      No. Not monster. Merrick.

      No sooner had Ian thought the word, than his last dream came rushing back at him, and he remembered what the creature had said. Remembered its threat against Molly. And if he’d been able to slip into a dream with her again, fucking her, feeding from her, then she was probably still in Henning. Still close. And in a shit-load of danger.

      â€œHe’s going after her,” he gasped, panting, seething…knowing only that he had to get to her first.

      He lifted his head, his lip curling as a low, aggressive snarl broke from his throat. The next thing Ian knew, he was rushing from the apartment, out into the unusually humid night, the air close and damp against his skin, a faint scent of electricity in the air. Thunder rumbled in the distance as a violent summer storm rolled its way in, eerily reminiscent of the dream with Molly. Vaulting over the banister of the second-story walkway, he landed in a low crouch on the warm asphalt of the apartment parking lot, knees bent, one hand flat against the ground between his legs for balance. The gritty tarmac was damp against the bare soles of his feet, the thick shadows of the night mysteriously brightened with a faint, luminous glow. The rational part of his brain knew that he shouldn’t be able to see so clearly, just as it knew that the leap from the second story should have injured him, but he sprang into motion. His body felt more alive, more powerful than ever before, the adrenaline pumping through his system as addictive as it was empowering.