Page 15 of Kentucky Nights
I can’t smell her anymore. I can’t stop now. I’ve come too far. Being able to move on with my life would be impossible. I already know that I would be restless and spend the rest of my days searching for my mate.
It’s an instinct I can’t turn off or run away from. My vampire nature would never allow such a thing. My blood sings for her. Only she can ease the chaos in my veins since she is the cause of it.
“Wait.”
Romeo follows the command, freezing mid-step.
I tilt my head back, inhaling to figure out what foul scent is bombarding me.
“What is that?”Romeo rears his head back, disgusted.
“Smells like wet dog. Follow it and fast.” I know a little about shifters. A friend, if we want to call him that, educates me when he pops in every now and then.
What little I know is due to him, books, and the internet. The internet is by far my most favorite advancement since I have been alive. Anything and everything exists. I don’t ever have to leave my home, which works out for a man like me.
The only way the internet could improve my life even more is if blood could be delivered.
Romeo’s speed is much faster than my own, and we are able to cover more land. Huge chunks of wet grass are dislodged from the ground as he runs up the hill, leaving the river behind us.
The horrid scent of dog and something else I can’t put my finger on brings us to a rundown bar. I’ve never been here, but I suppose I haven’t seen a lot of places that resemble a shack like this one.
The business, if we want to be that generous, is barely standing. The foundation is slanted, and the wood that creates the walls is dark grey, rotted to the core. Debris clogs the gutters, and moss hangs over, stretching to reach the ground. What once were windows are just holes.
I take that back. There’s one that’s cracked, but it has cobwebs all over it, telling me it hasn’t been opened in quite some time. Don’t get me started on the porch. The middle of the damn thing sags. Whoever built this needs to find another job.
“I hope she isn’t here. I can’t smell anything over whatever rancid scent that is.”
“Me neither.” I slide off Romeo’s back. “You can stay or go. Whatever you prefer is fine by me.”
He pushes me, slugging his head against my shoulder.“I’m staying. I’d never leave you alone. You saved my life. I’ll continue to save yours.”
“Who says I need saving?” I smirk, scratching under his jaw.
“You do.”He flicks his chin out, hitting me square in the chest.“Right there.”
My playful smile fades, and I swallow the frog that’s somehow found itself in my throat. I try to pretend I have no idea what he is talking about, but I do. I forget animals can sense things others can’t.
“I’ll call for you if I need help. If things go south, run, and don’t stop until you find another vampire to take care of you, okay?”
The droplets of rain gather in his black lashes. With every blink, they drip into the corner of his eyes, sliding down his nose. It almost looks like he’s crying, but why would he miss an old grouch like me?
His ruby irises narrow at me, the top of his lip curling to show a long, thick fang.“Nothing will happen. I have your back, Kentucky. End of story.”
I know when to leave well enough alone.
My clothes are soaked to my bones at this point. I turn, staring at the front of the bar. The rain clings to the rusted metal roof, reminding me of the days I chewed tobacco and I’d spit it in a tin. The clink alone takes me back to the taste, and I can hardly stomach it.
Howls of laughter echo from the bar, returning my focus to the matter at hand. I dip my chin, and water rushes off my hat and down my nose. An abusive amount of rain begins to pour. Humans with regular vision wouldn’t be able to see in this. The bar would be out of sight for them.
Not me.
Even with the sheets bearing down from the sky, I’m able to see the bar just fine. Past the static of the storm, eight heartbeats stay in tune with every spin of my spurs as I charge towards the door.
The bottom step is broken in two, and the middle has a hole just to the right of the center. A loud creak vibrates under my boots from my weight against the old slabs while I survey the deck to see a few sets of rocking chairs still and empty.
I do appreciate the saloon-style doors, even if the bar is one gust of wind away from crumbling to ruins.
With a sly grin on my face, I keep my head down, hand on my gun, and my fangs at the ready. Licking the sharp point, I push myself through the doors and stop right in the entryway.
