Page 16 of Kentucky Nights
The bombarding scent of wet dog almost staggers me. That might be the worst thing I’ve ever smelled, and I’ve cleaned a barn for over a century. The next smell is smoke, and it’s coming from the bar to my right. Spilled beer, piss, sweat, and most definitely sex hang in the air.
But it’s the scent of what is buried underneath all the putrid aromas polluting this space that lets me know I am right where I need to be.
Herblood.
The roars of having a good time die when they sense my presence. Only the country music blaring from the neon blue and red jukebox sitting in the corner interrupts the silence.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” my new friend growls without manners.
I can’t stand people who don’t have manners.
His black boots fill my vision. I tilt my head, impressed with the silver lining at the very tips. One quick kick from my buddy here and I’ll be in a lot of pain.
“I’m hoping you can help a fella like me out, regardless of our differences, I ain’t here to fight.”
His friends become closer by the sound of their own shoes scuffing against the ground.
“Why would you walk into a rogue wolf shifter’s bar asking dumb fucking questions like that?”
“I smell someone that belongs to me here, you see, and I’m going to need that person by my side when I leave. That’s all I want.”
“That’s too bad,” he says, taking a step forward. “I don’t make deals with bloodsuckers.”
I smirk, cocking the hammer on the Colt. “Thatistoo bad, isn’t it?” Quicker than he could muster up a pathetic bark, I draw my gun.
The bullet leaving the barrel is loud. Smoke drifts from my gun, and I lift my head, smiling from ear to ear. “You should have made the deal, pup.” I smack his cheek twice, the force of that simple act causing the wolf shifter in front of me to fall over.
I use him as a step, cutting his throat with my spur. “I would say all that blood smells good, but”—I sigh —“you really do smell awful. It must be embedded in your DNA.”
A burly shifter wearing a white, stained tank top charges me, claws drawn. In a blur, I aim and fire, shooting him right between the eyes.
I step on him too. “I am a gentleman. If any of you want to leave, now is your chance before I kill you, and I will if it means getting what belongs to me. Either you understand or don’t.”
“How are you killing them?”
Too many sets of glowing angry eyes are on me to see who is asking the question.
“Silver bullets. Made them myself after learning that little trick from a book. Now, give me what I want before I kill you.”
“I don’t think so. That pretty little thing belongs to me now since she wandered onto my property.” A tall, skinny man with light brown hair sits in a chair, his feet up on the table. A match strikes, the flame lighting a cigarette he has between his lips, and the smoke that hangs in the air becomes more dense when he blows out a cloud. “She owes me for her life.”
I snarl, blurring to his side and ripping out his spine, the cigarette still hanging between his thin, paper lips. “My patience is gone.” I whip the spine through the air like a lasso, wrapping it around another’s neck.
With a hard yank, the man’s head is ripped from his shoulders, tumbling across the room. Another charges at me in shifted form, his pack close behind him. I leap to the left, my trigger finger blurring with how fast I shoot and reload. Each wolf falls to the ground, leaving no one else but the bartender.
I aim my weapon, and he raises his hands in the air, the white towel a flag of surrender.
“Are you going to kill me if I tell you what you want to know?” he asks.
In one swift distortion, I’m in front of him, gun pressed under his chin. “Unlike your friends here, I’m a decent man. I like the truth. If you’re honest, you can go. I swear on my fangs.”
“They have her in a shed by the river. Rogue shifters aren’t the best company. I heard them talking, and they had horrible plans for her. One said he was going to pass her around?—”
“—Enough,” I hiss, my fangs aching for violence.
I struggle with the need to kill him. I don’t want his blood. I only crave the one I’ve been scenting. I want him to die because he wasn’t going to do anything to try and save her. He should face the death penalty for that, but unfortunately, I am a man of my word.
Shoving the hot barrel against his chin, I let him go. “Go,” I order.
