Page 6 of Darkest Need
Doesn’t he work here? Did I make him stupid? “I don’t understand.”
“Bagels. As in bread that looks like a circle with a hole in the middle of—”
“I know what a bagel is!” I yell, frustrated with how nonchalant he is. “But how are you…? Why are you…? I don’t get it. Plus, this city is your home. I just moved from Portland before I got attacked.”
He pauses. “Life, man. So confusing.” He pats me on the arm, followed by the head, then sidesteps me. “The mysteries of the universe just keep on hitting, am I right? All right, then.” Did he just pat me on the head and then wipe his hand on his shirt like my hair’s dirty? I mean, I guess it probably is since I was just attacked. God, I don’t even want to know how rough I look right now. But seriously, what in the ever-loving hell? I just got it dyed before my attack in the alleyway. And I wasn’t even doing anything wrong, just hunting a weak vampire I thought I could take on to last me another few days before I figured out what to do with my life. All I remember is walking. I don’t even know why I was walking in that direction. I hate that my memories make no sense, just as much as I hate what I am.
“Anyway.”
“Wait.” I hold out my hand.
At least I’m not bleeding anymore; that’s nice. And hedidheal my knife wound. Why was I even stabbed in the first place?
I can feel Earth energy from feeding off Tarek, but it feels different, not right. Though not wrong, either. It feels purposeful in a way that makes me hesitant.
I stare down at my shaky hands. “What sort of werewolf are you?”
He leans down slowly until we’re face-to-face. “The very best kind.” He winks. “The kind I imagine you’d want to feed off of for an eternity. But I have beer to serve, so I’ll just be going now.”
“Halt!” I yell.
He smirks over his shoulder. “Did you seriously just say, ‘halt?’”
“It was the first thing that came to my mind.”
“Really? The very first thing? How old are you, anyway? That’s such an old word to use to say—” He shakes his head and then freezes. “Um, please tell me I didn’t see what I just saw.”
“What?”
He sniffs the air and then ignores me completely, walking out of the office and right up to the vampire who attacked me. Brave guy to stop at the bar I ran into. “You.”
The vampire starts laughing. “Me? Do we know each other?” He tries to walk past Tarek. “I’m just here for a drink. Had a rough night.”
He’s younger, which doesn’t mean stronger, despite what you may have read. But he can still terrorize the entire bar and create a huge mess, and all because he followed me in for a beer.
He has jet-black hair, vibrant green eyes, and is the exact same height and build as the werewolf.
This will not end well.
Still, I stand behind Tarek. I can hold my own, but not against an immortal like the vampire. I’m not strong enough, and since I can feel the werewolf blood in me, I know he has to be stronger than I am. Maybe he’s part of the Council? Maybe he’s just really old. Demons aren’t necessarily a race of powerful immortals unless we feed or have souls.
I have no soul.
And I only fed enough to heal my body.
How depressing.
I wouldn’t last longer than an hour, and by then, the vampire would be the one doing the biting, and I’d be the one doing the dying.
Sometimes, it sucks that your only power is to seduce and consume, and that bagels, as this weird werewolf said, don’t even cure the hunger or need.
“You need to leave.” Hot werewolf who goes by the name of Tarek crosses his bulky arms over his tight black T-shirt and clenches his teeth. Why does a man bun and his caramel-colored hair look so good on him? Why is he so good-looking? Why does he smell and taste good, like earth energy? Life?
Why do I always feel like I taste like death?
I swallow the lump in my throat and self-consciously rub my sticky arms, still standing behind Tarek when I feel a presence.
I’m almost afraid to turn.