The predator paced, not outright rejecting her request but not responding either.
He approached with a slow, steady gait, like a predator inspecting its disabled prey before going for the kill.
Supermax, inhuman predator wing of the zoo.
She watched Xander like a predator eyeing a newcomer on its turf.
Xander was playing games with her, like the bored predator he was.
She hoped no one ever came for her, and she'd never have to choose which predator to end her life.
Her nose wrinkled at a familiar scent, and she looked first at the plate full of raw fish on the table and then at the silver-eyed predator with his roped forearms displayed across his wide, bare chest.
He was watching her, a predator who'd either figured out his prey wasn't edible or needed more study to kill.
Eden gazed at him, seeing more than the adopted son or bloodthirsty predator she created.
She'd been to Hell and back; Ireland with a moody predator was far better than that.