by Trim, Brenda
I tell them to stand up and usher them out the door. It isn’t until I fall into line behind the group that I realize one of them is a shifter. I make a move to follow them, but the sound of a whimper stops me in my tracks.
Everything tells me it’s Harper in the women’s restroom. Trusting Maximus and the others will sniff out the shifter, I barge through the door. When I hear a feminine whimper and smell the sensual scent tinged with fear, I almost regret being so brutish.
What the hell? The sentiment is foreign and unnecessary. I am going to wipe the human’s mind regardless of the arousal coursing through my veins. There’s no reason to regret frightening her more.
The restroom is empty upon first inspection, but I know she’s there. My groin tightens from Harper’s fear, making me salivate for a taste. “Who’s in here?” I demand.
A stifled gasp clues me in to her hiding place. I walk slowly to the closed stall door and push it open. The metal creaks then breaks, as I put pressure on the panel. The door flies open and hits the opposite wall with a loud clang.
I put my hand out to stop it from kicking back on me. The female is crouched on the toilet shaking like a leaf. Considering the many females crying in the main bar, I expected Harper would be a mess of tears.
The way she holds my gaze and lifts her chin leaves me in awe. Here is a powerless female who is obviously scared out of her mind, but she tries not to show it. I’ve never seen a display of such courage before.
I get a better look at her than I had before. I couldn’t see her lower half at all but am not surprised to see her skirt reveals banging legs. Most females who visit the club wear skirts or dresses, which I love. Gives me better access to their pussy and pleasure, but never have I been attracted to someone’s legs.
The soft pink top is a spandex material but not clingy enough for my tastes. She’s not your type, I tell myself before I reach out a hand to help her off the toilet. “You’re safe now, Harper. The attack is over,” I promise.
She places her tiny hand in mine, far more trusting than I expect for someone who just witnessed a shifter attack. I’m far more dangerous to her than anything in the club. My fangs ache to sink into her neck while I fuck her senseless.
Harper steps off the dirty toilet seat while holding onto me, making my desire that much worse. “How…how do you know my name? Can you read my mind?”
I chuckle, wishing I was able to read what she is thinking about. Her feet hit the ground and I nearly fall on her like the starving vampire I am.
“No, my kind cannot read minds. Your friends told me your name.”
“Do you change into a wolf? How is that even possible?” She staggers as she exits the stall. She mutters under her breath about this being a nightmare. A waking nightmare for sure.
My eyes are glued to her as she tries to tug her skirt lower and I see her start to unravel. Her eyes dart frantically around, and her shaking intensifies. I shake my head, wanting the skirt to go up, not down, and needing to head off this meltdown before it happens.
I should sneak her downstairs into the dungeon and tie her to the St. Andrews cross while I have my way with her. No, I correct myself. While I take my time wiping her mind. If we both end up naked with me buried balls deep in her tight pussy all the better, I think.
“The ability to shift into an animal is genetic, and no I don’t have those genes. My talents lie elsewhere. You’re okay for now. Let’s get you home,” I tell her, setting my desire to explore her aside. I have a mess to clean up and no time to take her to the dungeon.
She can barely walk and is breathing so fast I’m certain any moment now she will pass out. I can’t wait to calm the worst of her anxiety. Every human reacts this way when they learn the stuff of myth and legend are true. I turn her to face me and lock on her mind. It’s surprisingly difficult to get hold of any particular thought pattern.
Anytime a vampire wipes human memory there’s a risk of permanently damaging the mind. I don’t dig any further when the mere thought of her becoming a drooling mindless woman makes my fangs punch out followed by the urge to punch something.
“Calm down,” I command. “Vampires and shifters exist, but I have you now. You will get home safely and won’t remember any of this.”
Immediately her shoulders lower and her breathing slows, but she continues to look around wildly. Fuck it. I don’t have time to worry anymore. She can walk now, and that’s all that matters.
As we exit the bathroom, I notice the other females lingering in the club, waiting for their turn to be wiped and sent away. I take a closer look, but none of them spark my interest the way Harper does. It is this delectable female that makes me ache. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen at the moment. After we dispose of the shifters, we need to find out who the fuck they are and why they attacked.
“Did you drive here?” I ask, wanting to know if she needs a ride home.
Shaking her head, her gaze remains locked on the bodies littering the bloody floor. She moves closer to me, displaying that trust again. Most humans sense the danger of my kind and don’t cozy up to us.
“I came with Sophia. She can take me home. I just want to forget this night ever happened,” Harper complains as I help her step over a dead wolf.
“I can help with that,” I tell her. She stops and looks at me. The second I have her attention I delve into her mind again and discover the same difficulties. This time I push harder, but never find thoughts of the bar, so I remove her memories of the entire evening.
When her light brown eyes go glassy it twists something in my chest. I want her at my mercy, but not like this. I want her to come to me and willingly give herself over, despite her fear. Scoffing at the sudden sentimentality I have developed, I tell her, “Sleep peacefully as soon as you get home.”
As ridiculous as it seems, I am holding my breath hoping I didn’t fry her mind with my efforts. After a couple seconds she blinks and her head starts moving around, but I send her outside before she sees anything.
“Put her in the Uber when it shows,” I tell Grayson who is standing at the entrance. He nods and I turn around before I stop her and make her wait for me to be done.
Focusing on the issues at hand, I expect Lucius will be here soon. After I’m done here, I promise myself I will find a female to take to bed before I retire for the day. That is the smartest option.
My mind immediately objects. I don’t want anyone other than Harper. I roll my eyes at the continued show of a sentimental side that I thought died when I did. Another female is necessary. I remind myself that it will be a very long night if I don’t find release for the tension thrumming in my body.
With that vow playing on repeat in the back of my mind, I throw myself into my tasks. It’s no use. I can’t stop thinking about her. I’m glad that I don’t know Harper’s last name. With that I could find her address and pay her a visit after I finish here, which is the absolute worst idea given my current obsession with the human.
Chapter 3
Harper
“Who’s there?” I call out as I hold the comforter to my chest. I can’t sleep. Every time I drift off a noise has me jumping from bed and I don’t know why.
I scan the darkness then get out of bed and look outside my window. The moon is full tonight, illuminating the parking lot packed with cars. Nothing is going on out there. I quickly scan the rest of my apartment but find nothing. It’s the exact same as the previous half dozen times I woke up.
The clock tells me it’s half past three in the morning. Crap, this is turning out to be the longest night in history. Did I watch a movie that lingered in my subconscious? Perhaps it’s something I ate that is making me off kilter.
Problem is, I can’t remember what I watched before going to bed. Dinner was a vague recollection of throwing down a sandwich quickly so I could go and meet Sophia and the girls, which apparently hadn’t happened either.
No surprise. I’m not a club goer. My life is pretty boring. Now all I do
is exercise, go to work, and go home. I moved away from the oppressive control and scrutiny of my parents to venture out and discover who I am and what I want to do or not do in life. But I have no recollection of what I actually did.
I grab the soft blanket from the back of my couch and collapse on the lumpy cushion. My head is pounding and I desperately need sleep.
Insomnia refuses to give up its hold. My mind keeps going over details from the day before. My knowing tells me whatever happened is the real reason I can’t manage to catch some z’s.
I remember that after finishing work, I graded all the quizzes from yesterday’s lectures but didn’t record them in the computer. Other than work and grading I recall eating a salami sandwich and nothing else. If something this minor keeps me up, then I’m in for countless long nights.
Perhaps it’s the unlogged grades that’s weighing on me? I’m as far from a procrastinator as a person can get. I do everything the moment I learn of the task. Most of my colleagues have papers and exams to grade from days ago. I’m way ahead, I tell myself.
That helps appease the OCD beast lingering inside. However, as I think things through, I don’t believe that’s what’s keeping me on edge. Is it the failed girls’ night out? I am highly disappointed in myself for not taking the opportunity to see what the hype is all about.
Realizing I may not have informed Sophia I wasn’t meeting them after all, I toss the blanket aside and go on a hunt for my phone. It’s not on the charger next to my bed, so I search for my purse. Although it’s not like me to leave it in there, I don’t know where else it would be. The entry table where I always set my purse is empty. My small fairy garden is where it has always been, but there’s no hint of the items I am searching for.
Hands on my hips, I wonder if I have totally lost my marbles and left them both in the car. My keyring isn’t hanging from the hook on the welcome sign I made, but the spare key to my car is there and so is the spare key to my apartment that I hide in a boxwood bush downstairs.
When I moved out here my knowing told me I needed to have a spare key to my apartment hidden outside in case I was ever locked out of my house. At the time I couldn’t imagine why I would need that, but I hid one anyway.
I must have misplaced my keys and purse. I just can’t see myself forgetting that I was robbed. As the thought crosses my mind, my heart starts racing. I search the small kitchen and my bedroom. My apartment is small, and the only other room is the bathroom. Despite the fact that neither was there when I went to the bathroom not long ago, I check to be sure.
When my search turns up nothing, I decide that I must have left them in my car. Slipping my feet into my slippers, I grab my spare keys and close the door quietly behind myself.
The night air is cooler than before, but not as chilly as I am used to in Utah. I’m not shivering in the tank top and pajama pants I’m wearing. The warmer weather is probably my favorite part about living in Arizona. That and the Mexican food. The first place I ate when I moved here was Mi Nidito on the Southside.
I love everything about that place. The food, the atmosphere, and the staff. It sparked an interest and made me realize I love food. Specifically trying new cuisines and stepping out of my comfort zone.
I never considered myself a foodie until moving to Tucson. In the few months I’ve lived here I’ve tried just about every kind of food available and discovered what I hate and love. One of my all-time favorites is Ethiopian food. At the restaurant I went to I ate with a spongy bread and my fingers, making the experience unique and exciting.
The loud crack of a branch breaking makes me jerk, and turn around slowly. My spine prickles with warning and my heart is racing. My knowing tells me something straight out of a horror movie is hunting me. I must have watched a horror movie before bed. Serves me right to lose sleep and be jumpy. I know better. I’ve never been able to handle scary stuff.
My throat goes dry as I stand there completely exposed. At first, I don’t see anything. When I start to switch gears and continue to my car, I catch sight of glowing eyes. I swivel back around quickly, and my jaw drops when I lay eyes on a guy standing a few feet away.
His eyes aren’t actually glowing. Instead, they reflect the moonlight kinda like an animal’s do at night. Something about the sight makes me think of a dangerous wolf. My heart starts galloping, my feet are rooted to the spot, and I can’t catch my breath. I’m in big trouble.
Whoever this guy is, he isn’t lurking around my apartment in the middle of the night to share a picnic with one of my neighbors. He’s after me. There is no doubt in my mind. My knowing has never given me knowledge stronger than at that moment. Problem is, I have no idea why he wants me.
He doesn’t look familiar from what I can see of his face. I don’t make it a habit to piss people off. I keep expecting my ex-boyfriend, Steve, to hunt me down, but not a virtual stranger.
I’m a freakin’ virgin, so it’s not possible I had sex with him and he’s now looking for more. Guys show up at women’s houses in the middle of the night for a booty call, but that’s not what’s happening here. I keep to myself and don’t generally engage in activities that would get me in trouble.
I suddenly don’t give a crap if I find my purse. Wanting to avoid all contact, I start walking back to my apartment as fast as my slippers will allow. Unfortunately, at the moment it seems like it’s a million miles away and I’ll never reach it in time.
The sound of my plastic soles slapping against the asphalt competes with my panting breaths.
“Ahh,” I scream as a hand latches onto my shoulder, stopping me.
The joint is wrenched as the guy yanks me around to face him. The first thing I see are pissed off hazel eyes. I take note of his beard and the navy t-shirt he’s wearing. He’d be handsome if he had a smile on his face rather than a scowl.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demands.
“Ho…home,” I stutter, as I stare at him with wide eyes.
He narrows his haunting gaze and growls low in his throat. The animalistic sound confirms my previous thought about wolves. Then again, it might be a matter of me finding evidence to support my previous assertion.
“I don’t think so. I went to a lot of trouble to follow you. You’re coming with me,” he barks. I don’t need my knowing to tell me that is a bad idea.
“I…I think you have me mistaken with someone else. I don’t know you,” I insist as I stand there. My body starts shivering as tears burn the backs of my eyes. Crying, or rather tearing up, is my automatic reaction to anger or fear of any kind, and I hate the way it makes me appear weak.
I’m not weak, I remind myself. My strength doesn’t need to be a raging bonfire that’s visible from space. All it takes is a tiny spark and a whisper. You’ve got this, I tell myself. Think it through.
What did my brother tell me about situations like this? Never get into a car with a stranger or I would never be found again, but what else? That isn’t very helpful at the moment. I need to find a way to escape to safety. A glance at the stairwell and I know I will never make it that far.
I will not be going anywhere with this jerk. I’ll have to fight back if it comes to that. You got this, I say again. Go for the sensitive spots, my mind adds this time.
The rasp of my panicked breathing is the only sound that can be heard. No cars motor in the distance. No doors open or shut.There’s no hope a knight in shining armor will come to my rescue. My body shaking, I lift my leg and thrust it forward with all my might, aiming for his groin. The second he bends over and a grunt escapes his mouth, I tug my arm free and take off toward my door. The adrenaline surging through my veins adds to my already rapid heartbeat and I’m panting as I run.
His curse echoes behind me, but I don’t slow down. Now is my only chance to make it inside my apartment and lock the door. I can’t call the cops because I don’t have my cell phone. When I hit the second step, someone shoves me. I feel their hands on my back. My body jerks forward. My head bou
nces off the stairs. My head throbs and my vision goes fuzzy. He’s going to take me unless I do something. No time to wait until my eyes clear or my head feels better. Immediately, I start kicking my feet, trying to land another blow. It’s awkward with my body splayed out on the steps. My slippers fly off and my right leg is yanked to the side.
“Grab her other leg,” the guy barks. What? Who is he talking to?
I turn my head and notice two new guys I hadn’t seen before. One takes a step toward me before he suddenly goes flying through the air toward the parking lot. My eyes go wide and I renew my efforts to get free when the hold on my leg loosens.
I can’t see what distracted the guy and sent the other soaring through the air, and I don’t care. I need to get to my apartment and lock the door. These guys mean business and will hurt me unless I can get away from them. My next kick lands on the first guy’s jaw making his head snap backward. I scramble up the stairs on my hands and knees, wondering why none of my neighbors have come out to see what’s going on.
I make it halfway up the steps when I hear someone below me. The third guy is now after me. “No,” I scream.
He jumps from four or five stairs away and reaches out as his body lands above me. His arm is around my throat, cutting off all my air. He walks down, forcing my feet to move with him.
It does me no good when I try to dig my heels in and keep him from taking me. A single thought keeps running through my mind as I struggle for breath and try to claw his arm. What do they want with me?
“Stay back,” the jerk holding me hostage demands when we hit the sidewalk. My heart skips a beat as I pray that one of my neighbors has come to help.
I nearly collapse from relief, but I can’t even suck in a breath. A James Dean lookalike stands a few feet away with murder in his gaze. I swear there’s a reddish glow in them, but I have to be seeing things. Oddly enough he doesn’t frighten me like the other guys do. I have no doubt he is here to help me.