Save Yourself

by Lynch, H. G.

Brogan just curled his lip. “So I’m no saint. Bite me. But I haven’t been holding up liquor stores or beating up old grannies.”

  Sighing, Jet waved him off. “Whatever. I’ve got to go to work. Unlike some people.” He glared pointedly at Brogan, who flipped him off casually. “You two kids behave while daddy’s out. No climbing on the furniture, and no beating up old ladies. Got me?”

  “Fuck you,” Brogan and I snapped at exactly the same time.

  Jet laughed, tossed his empty beer bottle in the bin, and strolled out of the flat.

  I turned to Brogan, my mouth watering at the sight of him shirtless, damp and flushed from the hot water. Suddenly, I felt filthy. I snagged his hand and started dragging him back down the hallway.

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “Just where are we going?”

  I tossed him a saucy smirk over my shoulder. “I am going for a shower because I’m a dirty, dirty girl, and you are going to help me get clean.”

  His eyes darkened and a slow smile spread across his lips. “It would be my pleasure to…clean you.”

  The bathroom door clicked shut behind us.

  By the time we emerged, I was thoroughly “cleaned.”

  I stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, my wet hair hanging down my back, and started toward Brogan’s bedroom where I’d left the bag of clothes I’d brought with me. I still slept in one of his t-shirts, but I’d found that if I didn’t sleep with panties on, Brogan tended to wake me up in the middle of the night with his hand between my legs, and although that was always fun, I really did need to sleep.

  As I crossed the hallway, I heard a sound from the front room, a click like someone knocking a glass against the sink. Confused, I leaned back into the bathroom, where Brogan was replacing his eyebrow bar with a small, silver ring. He glanced at me in the foggy mirror.

  “Yeah?”

  “I was just going to say I think Jet’s home early.”

  Instantly, Brogan straightened, going tense. “What?”

  His reaction made me anxious. I murmured, “Um, I just heard someone in the kitchen and thought…”

  He swore. I flinched.

  “It’s not Jet, is it?” I whispered.

  He shook his head, his expression hard. “Jet works an extra hour on Thursdays because the place is packed with late-night shoppers looking for a drink. He wouldn’t get off early unless Grimshade burned to the ground, and I don’t hear any sirens.” He paused and then swore again. He looked at me with bright eyes. “Look, go to my room and lock the door. Don’t come out unless I tell you, okay? Promise me.”

  With my heart jumping like a jackrabbit, all I could do was nod. Clutching my towel, I ran across the hall into his bedroom and shut the door as quietly as possible, but I hesitated before locking it. I remembered Brogan telling me about how his parents were killed. What if whoever was in the flat had a gun? Brogan was unarmed—his knife and gun were in the drawer of the nightstand. Hell, he was dressed in a towel for God’s sake.

  Shit.

  I ran to the nightstand and yanked open the drawer, my hands shaking as I snatched up the knife and the gun, pausing to pull on the oversized t-shirt of Brogan’s I slept in and a pair of panties—if I was going to die, I was not going to go commando to my own death. That would just be trashy. Plus, I couldn’t exactly fight if I had to clutch my towel to hold it up, could I?

  Clutching the gun in one hand, and the knife in the other, I eased myself silently into the hallway. I could hear the sounds of a brutal fight, flesh hitting flesh, furniture being shoved and toppled. As I crept to the end of the hallway, I saw the man who’d invaded the flat—as tall as Jet, and just as muscular, with slicked-back hair and narrow, cold eyes. He had Brogan down on the floor, pressing a knife toward his throat, but Brogan was resisting, his free hand scrambling for a weapon, but there was nothing nearby. He was already cut, a gash along his forearm seeping blood onto the wooden flooring of the living room.

  Adrenaline kicked my fight-or-flight instinct into gear, and seeing as I was holding two weapons, and Brogan was about to get sliced, I chose fight. I raised the gun, surprised by both how heavy it was and how comfortable it felt in my grip, and pointed it at the man pinning Brogan to the floor.

  “Hey!” I yelled, and his head jerked up.

  Brogan craned his neck to look at me, and his face went pale. “Kez, no!”

  Slick saw me standing with the gun, and his narrow eyes became slits, a nasty grin crossing his mouth. “So this is the little piece of ass Joey told us about. She’s pretty, I’ll give you that. What’s your name, honey? Kelly, isn’t it?”

  My stomach churned. I literally felt sick with rage. How dare he break into Brogan’s home and attack him? How dare he have the nerve to ask me my name while he held a knife to Brogan’s throat? My finger twitched on the trigger of the gun, and I snapped,

  “My name is Fuck You. Now get away him before I shoot you in the fucking skull.” I’d never fired a gun in my life, but he didn’t know that, and I was willing to give it a try.

  Slick gave me a calculating look as if he was deciding whether or not I knew how to use the weapon. He hadn’t spotted the knife in my other hand because I was hiding it slyly behind my back. While he was looking at me, I shot a glance at Brogan, who was watching me with a pained expression, as if he wanted to physically grab me and throw me back into his room where I’d be safer. But I wasn’t some damsel in distress, and I’d be damned if I started acting like it when my man needed my help.

  I called, “Heads up,” and tossed the knife swiftly along the floor toward him, knowing that his reflexes were ten times faster than Slick’s.

  Before Slick could even react, Brogan snatched the knife off the floor and stabbed it into Slick’s torso, shoving him to the side at the same time and rolling to his feet. Slick grabbed his wounded side, just below his ribs, and swore violently as blood pulsed out around his fingers, dotting the floor with crimson drops.

  Brogan ran to my side, and grabbed my face in his hands, his eyes furious and frightened at once. “I told you to stay in my room! Why didn’t you listen to me, god dammit? You promised! Go! Go and lock yourself in! Give me that fucking gun and go!”

  While he yelled at me, my eyes slid to the side, over his shoulder. I saw Slick pull something shiny and metal from his waistband with his free hand, and my heart seized. Before I could think, I reacted. I slapped Brogan’s hands away, pointed the gun, and squeezed the trigger. The sound of the bullet exploding out of the barrel was deafening, and the gun lurched in my hand, almost breaking my thumb, but I got a sick thrill of satisfaction when I heard Slick scream out in pain.

  “You fucking bitch! You bitch, you shot me!”

  I had. He was clutching a hole in his right shoulder, and he’d dropped his gun. I was trembling all over, my heart pumping so fast, it felt as if I had air in my veins, but a giddy smile stretched my lips.

  “Yes, I did. Now shut the fuck up, or I’ll cut your tongue out.”

  Brogan stared at me as if I’d grown a second head, completely ignoring the cursing criminal bleeding out on his living room floor. “Since when can you shoot?” he asked, incredulous.

  Keeping my voice low, I answered, “Since I saw he was about to cut your head off.”

  He shook his head. “You are fucking brilliant. Completely insane. But brilliant.”

  I grinned. “I know. Now, are you going to do something about him? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure someone will have heard that gunshot. You probably shouldn’t have a corpse on your floor if the cops come digging around, and he will be a corpse in about five to twenty minutes, depending on whether you managed to stab his liver.”

  He stared at me for three more seconds, then shook his head sharply, as if to clear it, and took the gun carefully from my fingers. I let him. He turned on his heel and pointed the gun at Slick’s forehead, his face hard and unforgiving. For a second, I really thought he was going to shoot. That he was going to kill a man right in front of me.
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br />   Instead, he took a deep breath and slowly lowered the gun. “No point in wasting a bullet. She’s right, without surgery, you’re going to die anyway. Maybe you can get to Red and one of his other guys can patch you up before you bleed out…but I doubt it. Now get the fuck out of my flat before I change my mind and end up cleaning your brains off the wall.”

  Slick dragged himself to his feet, his face pale and strained with pain, and shot me a venomous glance. “You’ll get what’s coming to you, bitch. Count on it.”

  I was curiously numb, so his threat didn’t bother me. I just flipped him off. “Whatever you say, Slick.”

  As soon as he hobbled out the door, Brogan slammed it shut and locked it, slid the chain on, and kicked it as if it were the door’s fault the bastard had gotten in. “Fuck!” he spat, slamming a fist into the wood hard enough to make me wince.

  “Brogan,” I said softly, putting my hand on his shoulder.

  He stiffened, his muscles bunching under my hand, and he raised his head, nostrils flaring. His eyes had taken on that eerie glow again, shining through locks of ebony hair.

  “You’re bleeding,” he breathed, his voice strained.

  Startled, I pulled my hand back, leaving a smear of red on his skin. I looked at my palm, confused, and saw a long, thin gash across the skin, leaking blood down my fingers and wrist. I hadn’t even noticed it. The cut was shallow, barely stinging.

  “I must have cut myself on the knife when I threw it to you.”

  He stared at the blood on my palm, his jaw clenched, breathing hard through gritted teeth. A shudder wracked his body, and he grunted, doubling over in pain.

  I stepped toward him. “Brogan!”

  He lifted his head and hissed at me, baring his fangs, his eyes dark and fiery. Shocked, I stumbled back.

  Brogan whipped around, groaning, and dug his nails into the door hard enough to leave gouges. “Kes…ter…” he grunted.

  “What? What’s wrong? Brogan…”

  “Blood…the blood…” he gasped. “I can’t…I can’t…”

  An inhuman growl tore from his throat, a vicious rumbling that made the hair stand up on my arms. Fear spilled through me like ice water as I realised that was what Brogan had been talking about, it was the beast he’d described, the darkest and most primal part of him. There was something fundamentally different about him something almost predatory, from the flat unfamiliarity in his eyes, down to the way he moved, so smooth and liquid like a panther stalking prey. As he prowled toward me, I realized that I was that prey.

  Backing up, I wrapped my injured hand in my t-shirt, but Brogan kept coming after me, his eyes blank of any recognition, the beast in control. “Brogan,” I murmured in a soft voice. “Brogan, please, think about this. You don’t want to do this, I know you don’t.”

  He growled in reply, and I flinched. My foot slipped on the blood puddled all over the floor, and I lost my balance, hitting the ground hard. The breath was knocked out of me, and my head smacked off the floor, dazing me. I felt the blood seeping through the back of my t-shirt, cool and sticky. Brogan was on me in an instant, the towel, now stained with both his blood and Slick’s, came loose around his hips as he crouched over my body. For a horrible instant, I thought he might…want to take me, then and there, that he was so out of control that he wouldn’t care if I agreed or not.

  However, it wasn’t my body that he wanted—just my blood. He bent down and ran his nose along my neck, sucking in a deep breath. I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart racing and my nails biting into my palms. I tried one last time to discourage him.

  “Brogan, please, don’t…don’t do this.”

  He hesitated, his breath rapid and ragged against my collarbone, and I felt the knot in my gut loosen slightly, relief and hope battling the fear in my chest. He started to pull back, violet eyes shining into mine.

  Then he hissed and lunged. I screamed as I felt his teeth pierce my skin. Bolts of pain shot down my neck and shoulder and warmth trickled down the side of my throat as his mouth latched onto my flesh, his tongue lapping at the punctures he’d made. His body pressed down on me, his hardness heavy against my stomach, my neck and chest aching. My stomach had shrivelled into a hard lump, and my heart…my heart hurt.

  I didn’t want to believe Brogan was doing that to me, that he’d turned into the monster that was draining my blood, sucking the life out of me. I wasn’t angry, and I was no longer scared—I was just…numb. So numb. My vision was going grey at the edges, my fingertips and toes tingling. My brain became foggy, but in the back of my mind, I knew that if he didn’t stop, he was going to kill me.

  My head swam, the world tilting around me. Then, the pull on my neck was gone, and a strong hand clamped down over the wounds to staunch the bleeding. Everything was fuzzy, but Brogan’s eyes came into focus above me, anguish in the amethyst depths. His mouth was red, my blood dripping off his chin, tears shining in his eyes.

  “Oh, God,” he choked. “Oh, God, no. No, no, no. Kester, baby. Kester, can you hear me? Kez, talk to me, please.”

  I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t make any words come out. My entire body ached, I felt dizzy, and my tears were sliding down my temples into my hair. I was so, so tired. I closed my eyes, and Brogan tapped my cheek.

  “Kester, stay with me.”

  I dragged a deep breath through my raw throat and managed to whisper two words: “Fuck. Off.”

  I saw the agony and sorrow in Brogan’s violet eyes, and then everything went black, and I was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ** Kester **

  I woke up feeling as if I’d been hit by a truck. My head was pounding, my stomach felt queasy, my limbs felt like wet noodles, and the side of my neck hurt like…well, like someone had tried to take a chunk out of it. It was itchy too, and when I reached up cautiously to touch it, my fingers brushed a scratchy gauze bandage taped in place. Carefully, I sat up, expecting the world to tilt on its axis around me, but it stayed in its proper place, and I realised I was on the sofa with a blanket spread over my legs.

  I glanced around, but there was no sign of Brogan, but he’d obviously been cleaning. The blood that had been all over the floor—a mixture of his, Slick’s, and mine—was all gone, leaving the floor shiny and stinking of bleach. The curtains were closed, so I couldn’t tell what time it was or if it was dark already or not.

  Sighing, I leaned my head in my hands, closing my eyes and breathing deeply to keep the tears at bay. Memories of Brogan’s teeth in my flesh, the unnatural growling sound he’d made, the predatory shine in his eyes, all flashed through my head. I raked my nails down my face, scared, angry and confused.

  Suddenly, long fingers pulled my hands gently away from my face. “Hey, hey, don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

  I jerked, snatching my hands back and glaring at Brogan. He was sitting right in front of the sofa, and I hadn’t even heard him approach. He looked back to normal; his eyes were heather-grey, his teeth blunt, his face cleaned of blood. He’d gotten dressed in a pair of loose jogging bottoms and a t-shirt, and was wearing an inappropriately distressed expression.

  As if he has a right to be worried about me after what he just did!

  I pressed myself back against the sofa cushions, my hands shaking. “Get the hell away from me!” I spat.

  He flinched as if I’d slapped him, his mouth contorting into a frown. “Kester, please, listen to me,” he begged. “Just give me a chance to explain. I’m so, so sorry—”

  I laughed bitterly, incredulous. “Sorry? You’re sorry? You almost killed me, you bastard!”

  “Please, Kez, baby—”

  “Don’t you dare ‘Baby’ me, Brogan!” I yelled, shoving my finger in his face. “I am not your fucking girlfriend! I never was! I thought maybe we could be…” I stopped, biting my lip as tears flooded my eyes, stinging.

  He looked at me with so much longing, so much regret. My chest hurt in a way that had nothing to do with physical pain.

/>   I shook my head. “But no. I was wrong. We could never be anything. I am just a walking snack bar to you. You’re a monster! There is nothing human inside you!”

  His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, curling his fingers into the sofa cushions. I held my breath, pushing as far into the back of the sofa as I could.

  He held my stare determinedly. “You know that’s bullshit, Kez! My feelings for you are—”

  “Are shit!” I snapped, getting in his face, my fury overriding my fear. “If you really cared about me, you wouldn’t have attacked me! You pinned me down, and you took what you wanted. Thank Christ it was only blood! You were fucking turned-on while you did it, too! I could feel it! I really thought you were going to...” I looked away, choking on remembered panic. It made bile rise in my throat, and I wanted to puke.

  Brogan turned pale as a sheet, horror on his face. “No! Fuck, no, Kez! I would never, never do that! I am not like the asshole that attacked you in the alley! I wouldn’t…” He shook his head, swallowing. He looked about as sick as I felt.

  “Yeah? Then tell me, how are you better than him, Brogan?” I gritted my teeth. “The only difference between you is that you waited until I was in your house, until I’d been in your bed, until I trusted you, and then you attacked me!”

  His expression darkened, and he stood abruptly, making me cringe back into the cushions.

  “Then I guess you shouldn’t have trusted me then, should you?” he shouted, furious.

  I could see the hurt underneath the anger. I’d wounded him, and a little part of me hated myself for it. No, I thought stubbornly, he deserves it. I had to believe that. I had to, otherwise…otherwise, I’d go back on the decision I’d come to while I’d lain dying on his floor.

  Brogan threw up his hands in frustration. “I told you! I warned you what you did to me, to my Hungers!”

  “So now it’s my fault you attacked me?” I shrieked, leaping off the sofa. I shoved him hard, but he barely budged, and it only made me angrier.

  He grabbed my wrists, keeping me from hitting him again. “No, fuck, that’s not what I’m saying! I just...lost control.” He sighed, releasing me and raking a hand through his hair.