It was just a few of us out. Her mate, my prey. Her housemates. Her. She was a few hours ahead of us, drinking her dinner. So was her mate, my prey. I didn’t feel it, never do, just wanted to get out of the stink of deadlines lingering around my bedroom, clinging to the walls. It was clearer here, even if she blinded me. Her mate, I mean, my prey. And hours later I woke up next to her. I text Ellena. I look down at the skin next to me and I can’t remember where her mate went. Disappointed, beaten. I ask her if she’s up (loudly, to wake her up). I ask if she regrets it. I can’t remember what she said.