Part 7

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How on God’s green earth did this werewolf know my name? It’s not like I saddled up with werewolves on a daily basis to have a few cold ones and swap stories of old times. After I’d been changed, way back when, my creator had paired me with a werewolf until I got strong again. The werewolf was disgusting, he’d constantly scratched his butt in my presence, and I remember laying on a table, in complete and earth shaking pain, while some guy scratched his butt and made the room smell like dog turds.

“How do you—,”

“We don’t have time for that.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me to a dark corner of the bar. I saw my friends laughing and pointing at me, they probably thought I was hooking up with Bear Rug. God. He was strong. It’s weird how I forget that—I sometimes think vampires are the “it” species, but werewolves have punches in this little mythological world I live in.

“Sit,” he demanded nearly throwing me in a booth. What a pushy dog.

“Who do you think you are!” I hissed at him, getting annoyed, but still extremely interested in what was going on. It wasn’t every day that a werewolf showed up.

“Shut up, no time.” He plopped in the seat across from me, and his eyes grabbed mine. “You’re going to die.”

“Hell, what?” I was so shocked by his words, I couldn’t even swear correctly.

“I said, you are going to die if you don’t listen to me right now.”

“I think you got the wrong girl, hey listen, buddy, it was nice chatting—” I stood to my feet.

“I said sit,” his voice growled, and his eyes went completely black. It was freaky how the dogs could do that. They looked like some sort of dog-demon-thing, that I probably didn’t want to piss off anytime soon.

“Alright, don’t piss on the carpet,” I said.

“You think this is a joke?” he said. My face twitched, but I restrained the comeback I desperately wanted to make. Everything in my life was a giant joke—if not I’d probably end up like the ninety-nine percent of the vampire community. Boring and stupid.

“Alright, how am I going to die?” I leaned forward.

“Follow me.” The dog stood back up just as abruptly as he’d sat down, grabbed my arm, and yanked me back to my feet. That was a short meeting. He half dragged me out the door of the bar, with my friends snickering at me. They were complete idiots, they’d have no idea that this guy was kidnapping or vampire-napping me.

“Listen, I think playing with dogs is fun, but I don’t know you, and I need to feed Kitty.”

Bear Rug dragged me until we approached a crazy expensive car sitting parked on the side of the road. He opened the door for me, and I stood staring at a dark form inside. You’ve GOT to be kidding me. He obviously wanted to die. Claud. I peered in, my mouth cocking into a grin.

“Well, hello, beautiful,” the ancient pain-in-my-ass vampire said.

“Love the theatrics, Claud, was this your idea of a good time?” I nudged my head toward the werewolf.

“Thought you may enjoy a good show, but seriously, Iva, your life may be in danger.”

“The only life in danger is yours, lover boy. Because I’m going to stake your dumb ass to your leather seat.”

“Touchy. Why don’t you come inside, and we’ll go for a bite.” He thought his joke was funny and threw his head back in a chortle. His bad humor was going to be the death of me.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I slammed the door, shoved past smelly Bear Rug and headed back inside the bar, fully annoyed now. Why didn’t he leave me alone? Couldn’t he take no like a man?

I came in the bar, my friends gathered around a table, beers in their hands.

“Hey, Iva, did you get it on with the homeless dude?” my friend Kat asked.

“Yeah, all night long,” I said with a smirk and forced my butt to fit in beside everyone.

“Really? God, you’re brave,” Waldo said to me, slugging down his beer like it was trying to evaporate on him, his ungodly orange hair was sticking up all over the place.

“Order me some nachos, I’m starving,” I said, ignoring the intoxicating smell these humans had. I’d smelt Bear Rug too long, and coming back was almost like when you walk into a room full of bacon. God, they smelled delicious. I ignored that though. These were my buddies—you don’t eat friends. That’s a rule in my book.

“You’d like Oliver, Iva,” someone was saying. Who was that again? She had eyes too large for her face, and I swear she was part fish.

“Huh?”

“Oliver, you know, Casey’s dumb little brother.”

“Who is Casey?” I asked, staring at them stupidly.

They burst into laughter.

“We love you, Iva. You know Casey.” Fish-face waggled her eyebrows, like that’d get me to remember whoever Casey was. Then it hit me. Oh! Casey. She was a girl that flaunted everything—in fact—I think she hated me with the same passion that Claud loved me. She had a brother? Why did I care about that?

Just then the back door of the bar opened and a guy walked in. He was tall, lean, and had a face like a rock star. Tattoos littered his toned arms, and he walked around like he owned the world. Interesting.

“Ollie!” Fish-Face screamed, waving her arms around. He grinned at her, waving back, but somehow flexing at the same time. That took talent. 

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