Wild Side (Dark Side Series: Book 2)

Nineteen

Okay, this one's called "The Hunger" by Jack Savoretti. Enjoy! 💕

A sudden rush of fear swept through my veins. I pushed away from Caelan, but his hand had found my waist and stayed there. "What the hell are you-?"

The door behind us gave a frosty creak.

"Gentlemen," Caelan began in a tone so jovial I was almost afraid for whoever had followed us out. "If I were you I'd call it a good night to be alive and go home to your worried mommas." It was only then that he stepped a pace back from me. I spun around.

Two lanky teenagers stood with their hands up beside the closing door.

"Look, man, we don't want to hurt you," said the shorter of the two. He couldn't have been more than nineteen; from his dress and companion's similar appearance, I guessed they were about the age of college freshmen. "We were told to deliver a message to the girl."

With round eyes the taller of the two pressed his back against the wall. "He's got a gun, dude," he said to his companion. "This is a bad idea."

"Ain't a gun you should be worried about. This death's a quick one." Caelan's pointed the barrel rather casually between the two. "Irene here doesn't need my help putting you in the ground, but I'll give it all the same."

The shorter teen's face twisted. Bones shifted beneath his skin "It's just a gun!" he snarled, and lunged. He made it about three feet and fell dead on his back. With a scream his friend flung himself on the ground.

"Silver," the former sheriff said nonchalantly, swinging forward with purposeful steps. The barrel settled on its new target. The teen yelled about how he didn't want to do it, how his friend was the one who agreed to the green-eyed man's deal. I was about to grab Caelan's arm when his eyes flicked to mine. The gun slipped back into its holster. He kicked the bottom of the kid's sneaker. "I'll ask you again to go home and keep breathing."

The teen stumbled to his feet and sprinted around the side of the building.

Just then Natasha pushed through the back door. She took one look at us, put her hand on her forehead and started to pace. "Aw, shit!" she exclaimed. "I just moved into my new apartment."

"They aren't after you, Tasha," Caelan said, flipping through the dead man's wallet. Only item inside was a a fake ID. The former sheriff looked down at the body and frowned. "This here's all about Irene."

"I'm so sorry," I began, rubbing my arms as my adrenaline slowed and the chill of night seeped inside my thin garments. I could barely take my eyes off the body, felt myself waiting for those eyes to roll back, for those fingers to twitch, and for Zakar's wretched voice to emerge. But it didn't, and that only made the anticipation worse.

Natasha swore a few more times, pushed her hair back from her face and settled into a sweet smile. "You're alright, dear. I thought I'd slipped up. Bar-related incidents happen once or twice a month." She sighed, hand on her shapely hip, then turned back toward Caelan. "We do charge a removal fee."

"Not necessary," he supplied with a gracious smile. He tucked the wallet back where he'd found it and stood. "We'll pay the fee for whatever it costs to spot clean but take him away ourselves."

The more I watched Natasha, the more I realized that the vampire's attention, like mine, was almost singularly focused on the blood-drenched shirt of Zakar's recruit. "And I get a drink for my troubles?" she asked, crouching. Wet fabric ripped in her nails.

"On the house," Caelan agreed, stepping back as the vampire hunched over the corpse. The crackle of flesh and bone made my stomach churn.

I frowned at the former sheriff. "Why can't we let her keep him?"