by Jasmine Walt
“Thanks. Happy to help.” Chia ground the words out, as she stumbled in front of him. “Is this how you do foreplay? It’s not putting me in the mood, sorry,” she said.
He let out a low rumbling laugh.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, as they headed for the unoccupied end of the hallway. “The club’s back there.” As if awakened by Hung’s manhandling of her, a fresh wave of wine sloshed through her system, making her feel woozy again.
“Freedom’s straight ahead, as well as a nice, cozy place to take advantage of you. You’re at my mercy, in case you didn’t notice.”
She kept her lips pressed together, trying to keep her inebriated wits about her. None of this would have happened if you didn’t drink all that wine, stupid. He’d either be dead, or we’d be in bed, and then he’d be dead with a hole in his head. She smiled grimly at her poem.
Hung pressed a knob on the back wall. It seemed to be a door of sorts, as it slowly swung open, revealing a dark stairway. “Private entrance for VIPs,” he breathed into her ear, as if she’d asked a question. “I have special status here.”
“What? You shouldn’t have special status anywhere in Charming. Not without registering first, dipshit.”
“Tell that to Trixie. And Ruby. And Noel. And--”
“Zip it, Durand.”
“Oh, how I love when you talk dirty to me,” he purred into her ear, followed by a deep throaty growl.
Chia’s body surged with passion. She shook her head, clearing it of drunken, lusty thoughts as best she could. “You can’t kill Sultana,” she said, as she staggered down the stairs.
“Like hell I can’t. That one’s important. It will lead to bigger, better, badder things for me.”
“It will lead to horrid things for me. For everyone. You can’t do it. You can’t kill the vamp.”
“And what business is that of yours?”
“She’s lovers with my roommate.”
“Ha! You have a vamp for a roomie? You have balls, I’ll give you that. But the answer to your request is in the negative.” He kicked the panic push bar open with a booted foot. A loud alarm immediately began to blare. “Damn it, who activated the alarm? You’ve seriously messed with my day, woman. Now, run.”
Shouts, followed by pounding, booted feet, blasted from downstairs.
Chia stumbled in an ungainly trot, held captive in the back. “I’ve messed with your day? Me? My day is ruined because of you. A friend is dead and more will follow, not to mention my job.” She bumbled through the crisp night air, her breath forming wispy white clouds as she exhaled. The ghosts circled her head closely like a halo of bike racers on a velodrome, zipping rapidly in front of her eyes. She stuck out her jaw and blew at them ineffectually. “You’re in a lot of trouble, Durand. Red and his crew have set traps everywhere near the Hunted Bear glacier.”
“Traps? I thought you made sure the citizens of this town got rid of them.”
“I did. But somehow Red got his hands on them.”
“Shit. That’s my go-to exit.”
“Yeah, shit. But you’re the badass shape shifter. Can’t you simply shift and slither away?”
He barked out a laugh. “Good one. Ever seen a snake’s movements in the snow? They hibernate. Cold-blooded, remember? Mine’s quite warm, I assure you.”
“So turn into a lynx or a snow leopard.”
“Nope.” Hung flashed a secretive smile at her. “Let’s simply say I’m one of a kind. Anyway, you try flying through the valley of a glacier. Tricky winds and air currents. Deadly. Broken wing reality. You don’t ever see the eagles soar out there, right? I’d rather take my chances with the polar bears and trudge through the passage as a human.”
She scoffed. “My people are going to get killed because of you.” She tripped, and would have fallen save for Hung’s powerful grip on her wrists, wrenching her arms behind her. Ouch! “Aren’t you cold? You’re fucking naked,” she snarled, being pushed at a frantic pace as more angry cries came from the lodge.
Two coyotes, no doubt shifter friends, raced by, several yards from her and Hung. A crow cawed, no doubt another shifter, and flew past her head.
Again Hung’s mouth landed against her ear, breathing warm air against the side of her face as he shoved her forward. “Not cold. Warm as hot buttered toast. And that’s what people do when they’re naked. They fuck.”
Her core sizzled with longing. Damn the man twice over. Still obsessed with her one, lone, ridiculous plan—sex with Hung, then make him dead—her mind whirled with non-ideas. She rarely came out here. She didn’t know this area. She stared at her ghosts, wishing they could come up with a plan, or at least a little advice. You’re useless.
The sound of the alarm blare grew quieter as they slunk through the night. It shut off abruptly as they headed down an incline, crunching through the remnants of late season snow. “Where the hell are you taking me?” She shivered, despite her bulky coat.
“Somewhere warm and quiet,” he purred into her ear. “I’ve got a mighty itch that needs scratching. Here. Feel.” He brought her restrained hands next to his erection.
Damn, damn, damn, you feel good. She closed her eyes for a second, savoring the throbbing heat with her fingertips. “Feels like some kind of growth you’ve got there. It probably needs to be excised,” she snapped. “Got a knife I can use? I’ll take care of it. One good slice is all it would take. Don’t think I have to saw at it. You’re not that big.”
He shoved her hands against her jeans. “You sure know how to kill the mood,” he grumbled. “And you already said, I’m as big as Alaska. But I don’t believe your protests.” This time his mouth landed on the other side of her head. “I know you want this fine piece of meat inside your juicy pussy.” He poked the soft, bulging head between her hands. “Thrusting and sliding inside your wetness.” He rocked into her palms, gripping her wrists even harder.
She managed to wrap the fingers of one hand around him and squeezed hard, digging in with her nails.
He roared, yanking away from her. “Want to play rough, huh? I’ll show you rough.” He halted abruptly, dropping the clothes and her gun, and grabbed her hair, pulling it hard.
“Ow!” She winced against the pain. “Let go of me, you bastard!”
“Nope.” He kept his other hand firmly on her wrists and bent her head back, using his grip on her hair to guide her where he wanted her. His nose nuzzled against her cheek, his whiskers softly scraping against her skin. He progressed to her lips, bringing his to softly kiss her.
Damn. The man’s intoxicating.
Feeling her response, he pulled away slightly, then resumed, giving her several soft butterfly kisses before deepening the kiss. He let his tongue dance along her lips, taunting her, teasing her, inviting her to let go into him.
Her mouth ignored the warning protest her mind insisted on issuing. All concerns for her beloved town vanished as their lips connected. She opened further, begging him to plunge his tongue inside her, not caring her hair was practically being pulled out by the roots.
He obliged, pushing in and out of her with slow, relentless insistence.
She moaned against him, held taut by his hands. One of her ghosts slithered against her cheek in a most annoying fashion, like an electric, high voltage hum. She wanted to brush off the wraith but Hung held her wrists tightly. The buzzing grew more intense, distracting her from the kiss. She shook her head slightly, trying to free herself of the apparition.
Hung must have thought she wanted more, so he deepened the intensity, widening his stance, grinding his mouth against hers.
The damn ghost now made little, biting electric shocks against her cheek. She shook her head violently, breaking contact with Hung’s lips.
“Had enough, huh?” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, staring at her, perplexed. “You’re lying to yourself, woman. I know for a fact you want more. I can smell you.”
“No, I…I…” She started to say something, she wasn’t q
uite sure what, when the snap of a breaking branch and the brush of branches against a body caught both their attention.
Hung clamped his hand over her mouth, and dropped into a crouch pulling her with him. “Don’t move. Don’t even breathe.”
An owl hooted in the trees.
“That ain’t an owl. It’s a human pretending to make an owl sound.”
She would have asked, “How do you know?” but his palm squashed harder against her mouth making it impossible to speak. Poised stock-still, nestled between his bare thighs, his flagging man-parts somewhere against her jacketed back, they both listened.
Another owl hooted from another tree.
“Shit,” he whispered. “We’ll have to continue this fine moment another time.” Without another word, he shifted into a bat and fluttered away, leaving her to land on her butt on the frigid forest floor, falling into the snow and leaves, next to her gun and the man’s clothes.
She let out a yelp. In the dim light, she searched for the gun but only found Hung’s pants. At the sound of footsteps, she abandoned her search and duck walked toward a large boulder, keeping her back toward the rock.
“Anyone out there?”
Dag nab it. It sounds like Red Spotted Dick.
“Hello? Anyone?”
The two men stalked into the clearing, glancing around. From what Chia could tell, they wore what looked like high tech night vision goggles.
Her ghosts huddled around her, flaring into blurry glow sticks, making it impossible to see anything.
“What’s that?” the guy who sounded like Red asked.
“What?” Dick answered.
“Over there. Looks like…looks like ghosts or some shit.”
“Take your night goggles off,” the other man said. “Still see ’em?”
“Nope,” Red said. “You?”
“Let me check.” A rustling sounded as he apparently removed his high tech headpiece. “Nope.”
Chia barely breathed.
“Okay, put em back on. One, two, three.”
Red let out a high-pitched screech. “Still there. Let’s get out of here. This place is haunted, too, same as the glacier. Damn shifters and ghouls,” he said, as he hustled farther down the incline. “Can’t wait to be rid of them.”
Chia continued her silent vigil. When the world resumed its nighttime quietude, she slowly stood. Her ghosts made lazy circles overhead. “Which one of you alerted me to danger by annoying the shit out of me, buzzing along my face like an electric eel?” she whispered. “Anyone care to answer?” No response came. “And how did you think to shield me with light? Thanks, guys. Maybe there’s a use for you yet.”
Wandering back to her truck, she peered into the night sky, searching for directional guidance. She hadn’t really paid attention to where she was being pushed earlier, but she knew how to get back up the hill.
Sore, adrenaline and arousal still coursing through her alcohol induced state of mind, she picked her way up the incline, in the dark, wondering what her next move should be. “Haven’t a clue,” she muttered as she got to her truck. “I lost my favorite gun and now hold the man’s pants, as if that’s any consolation.” After giving them a sniff of longing, stoking her hormones, she pitched them into the back seat and fired up the engine, prepared to head somewhere—she just wasn’t sure where that somewhere should be.
8
In the wee hours of the morning, Chia dragged her weary, bone-tired body into the comforting surroundings of her home. She’d hunted for Hung all night but hadn’t made any headway. Dawn would arrive soon enough.
Hanging up her coat and removing her boots, she planned on straightening up the living room, for my asshole roommate, and going to bed, to sleep for days if need be. Not that I have the luxury of sleeping for days, she grumbled. “And if Hung flew off to do his job and Sultana is dead, I’ll either be awake or joining her in the afterlife in a very short time when my lovely roommate returns. What a fantastic greeting that will be,” she added, snark lacing her words.
She snagged an empty box from the pantry, and stomped into the living room. Cursing as she cleaned, she dropped the shot-glass, the tequila bottle, the beer cans and bottles, devoid of beer, the joint, stems and seeds, the ashes and ashtray, chips, whips, used condoms and other reminders of her night into the container.
Using a damp towel, she made listless swipes along the burl end tables and similar coffee table her grandfather had made. She made her fatigue-footed way into the kitchen, prepared to dump everything in the trash, when inspiration struck.
Lifting the small, stainless steel trash container, she poured the remains of the vampire’s undigested stomach heave into the box, complete with bloody, Murphy soap scented, soiled paper towels, and strode valiantly toward the basement stairs in the corner. Tromping down the wooden stairs, whistling, her footfalls echoing in the large space, she hoped the bastard would return home at the last possible minute and not have time to kill her. Her ghosts tittered and whizzed around her head as if excited.
Opening the coffin lid, she dumped the bloody, liquor, dope-scented contents on the satin bedding and pillow, slammed the top shut and grinned. “He’s going to be so pissed when he climbs in bed.” With a lightness to her step, she made her way upstairs and tossed the box on the back porch for the recycling bin. “There,” she said, brushing her palms together. “Done and done.” She peeked out the kitchen window. “It should start getting light in about forty-five minutes. Let’s hope I’m right about his typical timing.”
She stumbled down the hall toward her bedroom, locking the door behind her, barely managing to remove her clothes, peel back the quilt her grandma had fashioned, and climb onto the high mattress, using the small stool she kept next to the bed. Her eyes swept the room blearily, landing contentedly on the gleaming, polished posts of the bed frame her grandfather had also made, before falling into a dead sleep. A short time later, a loud shout caused her to awaken, but her drowsy mind still spider-webbed in slumber, dismissed it, and she drifted once more into a deep, dreamless sleep.
9
Chia glanced at the wall clock when she woke, refreshed from several hours of delicious, undisturbed slumber. Noon? Are you kidding me? Half the town could be dead by now! Outside her bedroom window, a weak pre-spring sun shone through the clouds, highlighting the ghosts with sparkling lights, as they swirled to and fro in her line of sight, like lazy fish in a pond.
As she came to, she realized she lay outstretched in the bed, not curled on her side in her usual sleeping pattern. Intending to throw back the covers, she found she couldn’t move. Her arms and legs, poking from the bedding, had been duct taped to the corner posts of the bed, her hair felt like it had been duct taped to the pillow and a foul, dead-smelling stench emanated from somewhere in the room. She groaned. “What did I think? He’d tuck in without a fight? How am I going to get free?”
After thirty minutes of wrenching, tugging, and tearing maneuvers, accompanied by the kind of swearing her grandma would turn in her grave over, she managed to wrench her now bruised and bloodied right wrist free. Fishing under the sheets, she retrieved some lube called Silky Stuff. She poured a glob onto her bound wrist to make the sting of duct tape being torn from her flesh less biting. This allowed her to free her other hand.
When she tried to sit up to untape her ankles, however, the pillow came along with her head, tearing out strands of hair. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” The tape tore easily from the cotton pillowcase, not so easily from her hair. Sitting up, her hips and legs swaddled in sheets and grandma’s quilt, she gingerly, gently tried to peel the tape from her locks without causing too much pain, losing handfuls of pink frosted hair in the process. “Damn you, D’Raynged. This cut and color cost me a bundle.”
When she tossed back her covers to attack her bound legs she saw D’Raynged had put a finishing touch at the apex of her pelvis. A big X had been duct taped across the “short and curlies” at the front of her pelvis. She hadn’t a clue
how he managed to be so busy—and so intimate with her private parts—without disturbing her but Dillon had said he moved like a whirling psycho when pissed.
“You’re going to pay for this, jackass.” Deciding to make an appointment this very day to get the remaining hair sugared from her vajayjay, she grabbed one end of the taped X and yanked, screeching at the pain. “Dag nab it, you bastard vamp!” After removing the adhesive from her ankles, she swung her feet to the side and placed them on a very squishy, bony, furry, dead pile of rats, their tails bound together by none other than duct tape. She squealed, jerking her legs back to the bed. No more duct tape in this house. It’s all gone as of today. Lying on her stomach, she read the note attached to the pile.
Brought you breakfast in bed. Love, D.
“More like next to bed,” she muttered. “Get the details right.”
The loud bays and barks of a dog pack sounded from outside her window. She rolled off the other side of the bed and sauntered to the window, seeing the entire band of mongrels from town. “Hello, local dog pack,” she said. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
The big brown and white husky threw back his head and let out a glorious howl when he saw her, making her realize she stood naked in the window. She quickly crouched, snagging her robe from the floor and slipping it around her body as the entire dog pack yipped and howled with glee. Standing, she retrieved the pile of rats, threw open the window sash, and pitched the horrid remains into the snow. “Snacks for all,” she called, as the dogs fell to.
The husky trotted to the window, and leapt easily over the three and a half foot high sill, landing in her room with a flash of light as Cecil. “Nice body, Ms. Manager. I couldn’t help but howl. You should try it.”