Page 40 of Undying
Snarling captures my attention, and my head jerks up to see Tobias and Castle facing off against each other, and I can only gape at the idiots.
Then a spark of anger burns in my chest. “My survival doesn’t bode well when the two people assigned to protect me are determined to kill each other.”
ChapterThirteen
JOLIE
Both wolves snap to attention, shuffling their feet, looking like boys who got caught masturbating. I jump down from the crate, then follow the slight murmur of voices from above. “When you’re done pounding on each other, come find me.”
I don’t wait for them to respond, just use a burst of speed to zip up the stairs, then push open the door at the top.
The last thing I expected to find was a club.
The Den, to be precise.
It’s the bar where I frequently made deliveries when I was human. The place is totally different from when I used to visit it before the supernaturals came out to the world. The business welcomes both humans and supernaturals, but only the thrill seekers and those foolish enough to romanticize paranormals venture into this place these days.
Dancers whirl and jump to the heavy beat, lost to the music. I linger by the door as I take in the sights of the writhing bodies and flashing lights. This is the first time I’ve been around people since I’ve been turned, and I’m not sure I trust myself to get any closer.
I wait for bloodlust to take over, wait for the urge to hunt to overwhelm me, but I only want to escape and hide. From behind me, the sound of swearing and pounding of feet has me stepping into the club, and I’m quickly swept away by the crowd.
I’m instantly surrounded by supernaturals. A few humans walk around serving the crowd, but the living are few and far between—some blood whores looking for a high, while others are searching for protectors.
I suddenly feel exposed and vulnerable, my skin crawling with the need to get away. I push through the crowd, my size allowing me to slip through without notice. A familiar growl has goose bumps spreading over my flesh, and I glance over my shoulder, expecting to find the wolves only a step behind.
Only to see them across the room, practically a head above the rest of the crowd. They’re scanning the room, searching for me, but my size keeps me hidden. Tobias looks almost feral as he plunges into the crowd, pushing and shoving people out of his way while he searches. Castle is different, standing still as he slowly surveys the room, people taking care to avoid bumping into him, terrified to draw his attention.
Indecision has me standing still for a second, then I whirl and vanish into the writhing bodies. I’m not sure if I’m running away from them or running from the fact that I’m being forced to go back to House Dafoe and the horrors I endured.
Possibly both?
I head toward the closest exit, the alley where I made my deliveries, and slam out the door. My breathing is ragged as I survey the alley full of shadows, the light from the street barely penetrating the darkness. The smell is atrocious, flooding my senses, and I can’t scent anything over the rotten garbage that permeates the air.
Adrenaline leaves me trembling, like I’m standing on the precipice. I can go back, do what the guys want, and fight for a future like they described. Or I can disappear and make my own way.
My chances of surviving on my own are slim, but I would be free.
I’ve survived worse odds.
I take a step toward the mouth of the alley, when a scuffle and a grunt behind me has me whirling. My fangs lengthen, and my claws are at the ready as I brace for attack.
Only it never comes.
Cursing myself for my stupid curiosity, I follow the sound and venture farther into the darkness. Then nearly stumble over my own feet at the horror I witness. Five vampires have two shifters cornered. A young cat of some type, no more than seventeen years old, is desperately trying to keep the vampires away from his companion.
Said companion is on the ground, with numerous bite marks decorating his throat and arms, and I suspect there are even more wounds dotting his body. The man is older, mid to late thirties, bigger and more rugged. His face is sharp, almost harsh, giving off heavy boss man vibes.
His black hair is wavy, a couple of inches long, where it falls over his forehead. The young cat defending him isn’t in much better condition, covered in slash marks and bleeding freely, despite his accelerated healing. He’s lean, his muscles sleek, just hinting at the man he will become, his brown hair shaved on the sides and spiked every which way on top. The wild look in his eyes says he knows the futility of fighting off so many vampires, but he doesn’t relent.
Even if it means the two of them will die together.
He has some fighting skills, but they’re wild and unrefined.
Desperate.
When he spots me in the alley, the agony of defeat darkens his eyes.
But he never once stops fighting, even against the impossible odds, and something in my heart twists at his indomitable spirit.
