Just off doing a bit of vampire hunting. Would you miss me if I died?
BABY
No. I hope they rip you into tiny pieces.
I smiled. He’d totally miss me. Who else would he mouth off to?
I liked that Wilder was bratty, liked that he wasn’t too afraid of me to backchat. Nobody apart from Damyr and his inner circle did that, and even then, they never pushed the boundaries too much just in case I snapped. I knew I was unstable, knew the slightest thing could have me reaching for my gun and pulling the trigger, but Wilder didn’t seem to care. It seemed to me that he was just as crazy as I was.
Either that, or he had one hell of a death wish.
Hmm, I wonder what he’d let me get away with…
Would he let me mar that pretty skin? I wanted to leave a road map of bruises on his body so that everyone knew who he belonged to. I itched to see all those shades of red and purple against his pale skin.
Fuck. Would he let me cut him?
A shudder ran through me at the image of Wilder bound to my bed with blood trailing down his back, and I pressed the heel of my palm into my aching dick that was now ridiculously hard in my pants. How did this man have such an effect on me? The mere thought of him made me hard.
For fuck’s sake. Hunting vampires was going to be more challenging with a hard on.
I crossed the street to the house and was surprised the thing was still standing. The windows were broken and boarded up in places, the cement between the bricks was cracked and the roofwas full of holes. The buildings either side were already in pieces so at least there weren’t any nosy neighbours to deal with.
I wasn’t going for the subtle entry today. Even with a potion to suppress all the sound I might make, the vamps would still be able to sense me coming.
So, I slammed my foot into the front door and strode in like I owned the place.
Three vampires stood in the middle of the room, fangs bared and claws out.
“Who the fuck are you?” the middle one said. He was wearing a matching shell suit, and his hair was streaked with blonde tips. The idiot looked like a walking advert for the 90s.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” I replied, taking aim with my crossbow. “What matters is which of you fuckers is John Brown.”
The skanky looking vamp on the left stepped forward with an ugly grin before using his vampire speed to fly towards me.
I fired the crossbow, hoping that the fool thought I was dumb enough to outsmart, but I wasn’t stupid and this wasn’t my first rodeo.
The skanky vamp jolted out of his vamp speed, a wooden stake sticking out of his chest. As predicted, the asshole had just lunged straight for me. Honestly, would it kill these idiots to be slightly more creative in their attacks?
“I’ll kill you for that,” 90s Icon hissed as he looked at his little buddy lying still on the dirty ground. The stake through the heart wouldn’t kill the guy—shame—but it would keep him immobile long enough until I’d burnt this place to the ground. Now that would kill him.
“You can try,” I said with a grin as I loaded up another stake in my crossbow.
The vamp on the right who wore a floral shirt, ripped jeans and had a face like a weasel zoomed around the room, closing all the mangy curtains and throwing us all into darkness.
My smile widened even more.
This was fucking perfect.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and listened.
One…
There was a step to my right.
Two…
A scuff of boots to my left.