Page 7 of Little Wing
Fine. I could play this game. I bit down on my lip, flashing my pointed canines momentarily before pulling out a few more bills toslide across the counter. When the woman produced another bottle of crimson, I took it.
“Understood,” I stated. “I suppose I’ll just have to come around more often. See you tomorrow then…” I paused, looking back at her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t catch your name?”
“Kait,” she responded quickly.
“Kait—a pleasure,” I said with a quick tip of my imaginary hat before I quickly downed the bottle of crimson and set the empty bottle back on the counter. I flashed another smug grin and rushed out of The Royal Nomad.
I don’t know what I expected when I stepped out onto the street. Did I honestly think I’d get lucky for another moment in the mystery woman’s presence? Well, no such luck. The streets were practically empty. While I paced in front of the bar, I looked down at my watch. Daylight was still hours away, and I had no desire to go back home. Mateo would likely still be out with Quinn and my mind was still too mystified by the energy of that woman. Despite not spending much time in human bars, I knew I wouldn’t have missed a woman like that. She had a peculiar energy about her—one that I couldn’t place among the buzzed crowd.
The bartender wasn’t wrong about some things—I knew well what effect I had on women. I was no stranger to that attention, not back home in London, and certainly not in the States. Though Kait made me out to sound like some sort of slimeball, I wasn’t on the prowl for intoxicated women. I only entertained those who could clearly consent and expressed willing interest in letting me sink my fangs into them. There was something so delicious about a woman who allowed herself to loosen up that never failed to send a lightning bolt straight to my cock. I was horny, not an asshole.
Taking another look at my watch to see the hour barely passed, I pulled my phone out and inhaled sharply. The scent of warmth and liquor beckoned me. Over my shoulder, I found a brunette leaning against the brick wall of the bar. She wasn’t dressed for the season with her red dress leaving little to my imagination. She didn’t bother hiding her sultry eyes dancing over my body either.
“Hey there, fangs.”
“Fangs?” I scoffed, pushing my phone back into the pocket of my pants. “You like to play a dangerous game. What if I called you ‘blood bag’?”
“Ooh, fangs has an accent. Can you say, ‘bottle of water’?”
I smirked and nodded down the street. She wasn’t plastered, but tipsy enough to tempt me.
“You donating?” I asked, licking my bottom lip.
The woman pushed off from the wall and led me to her car where she wasted little time in climbing into my lap in the backseat. I did this so many times before that it didn’t really matter who it was that allowed me to touch them. Yet this time, I could barely concentrate on the human riding me. Her moans sounded shrill and I pressed my hand to her mouth before I bit down on her neck to taste her liquor-laced blood.
I did this so many times.
It always tasted the same.
That night I didn’t come and left the brunette limp with pleasure in the backseat of her car.
My mind remained plagued by the vision of the onyx-haired woman. If she was truly a regular at that human bar, then our paths would cross again. I would make sure of it.
“Luca, stop—”
“Keep your hands off me, Lotus,” Luca growled, swatting my hands away from him. “Shut the fuck up and let me think!”
I watched as my brother paced around the apartment. Since our “home” in our family’s barn, we had made more frequent moves to apartments, abandoned homes, and factories that were certainly not suitable for humans, but acceptable for us. Luca had come back to the apartment where I was waiting for him. I could not step outside, per his command, but I could still hear what people were whispering about.
So much blood. Killer. Cold-blooded. Devastating…
“Luca, what happened?”
“Lotus,” he growled louder, his eyes casting a chilling glare. It was then that I spotted the hint of a crimson stain on the collar of his shirt. My chest tightened but I did not move.
“Whathave you done?”
When I got home, I rushed to the television and frantically pressed buttons on the remote to turn to the first news network I could find. While I waited for any triggering announcements, I quickly scrolled through the notifications on my phone.
No alerts. No mentions. No red flags.
There was nothing new.
The news anchor droned on about the elections later in the year, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. No breaking news that would have forced my shallow roots out of Fairhaven.
“Nothing,” I whispered. Despite relief washing over me, I still scrolled on my phone, quickly searching for terms that would have very easily pulled up results around my brother’s crime.
Luca Everett. Wells Murder. Luca, Murder, Author.
