Prologue
So that’s my target.
Nice.
Shame I have to kill him.
But who says I can’t have some fun first?
I watched the ash-blonde man on the tennis court from behind my designer sunglasses. His white T-shirt clung to his sculptured body like a second skin. The wet patches from the sweat showed his coffee coloured skin under the thin almost translucent material. His shorts strained at the thighs with the swelling of the thick muscles as he ran forward, his racket hitting the ball over the net at the last possible moment. He stood up to his full height and wiped his face with the underside of his shirt, offering everyone who was watching—and there were a lot—a great view of his six-pack. I got a fantastic look at his tight buttocks under the clay stained shorts as he turned to walk back to the line. Very nice. Back in place, he bent his knees and leant forward, his arms tense as he waited for the next volley.
I could watch him all day.
This was Metisse. A playboy millionaire who spent his fun time excelling in all kinds of sports. His family was old money, with origins going back as far as the eighteenth century. At six feet, two hundred pounds he was a big man, athletic and easy to smile. The coffee-brown of his skin colour spoke of mixed racial heritage. His hair—dyed almost white—formed a stark contrast to the darkness of his skin and his eyes. All in all, he was a tasty mix of everything that I like.
He was also a Sabre-tooth shapeshifter; the leader of the local clan. And according to our research, he was one of the two main players in the war to come. That made him my business.
The game continued for another half hour. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of my surveillance. My body was getting almost as hot as he looked, and it had nothing to do with the nice sunny weather. There was a collective sigh of admiration on the terrace of the tennis club when he pulled the soaked shirt up over his head. The material had hinted at a fantastic physique and no one was disappointed. There were giggles from the only two guys at the terrace tables, all the other seats were taken by women. This guy was a magnet.
A tall blonde Playboy-bunny of about twenty-one skittled over the tennis court towards the blonde hunk and threw her arms around his broad shoulders. His right arm snaked around her small waist as he kissed her. Disappointed women all around me drank the remnants of their wine and stood up, ready to get back to their regular and boring lives with their less-than-perfect but very rich husbands. All would dream well tonight. I stayed where I was. I wasn’t here for a dream.
The blonde bimbo giggled all the way up to the terrace. Metisse pulled back a chair for her and glanced my way. Our eyes locked. He cocked his head slightly in acknowledgement of a connection that we both felt. My lips curled up in a smile as I pushed the sunglasses back over my now yellow-hued eyes.
Ten minutes later I signalled the waiter for the bill, gave him my platinum card and stood up to put on my light, summer coat. The waiter returned my card and with one last smile at Metisse, I turned and left the tennis club. He would see me again, only I would determine when.
The game has started.