“I can tell. Clearly, inbreeding is popular here,” I sigh as I look around the bar.
“Get out,” he growls, leaning in, white spittle forming at the corners of his mouth like a rabid animal.
I merely smile.
“Make me,” I goad.
He grabs a fistful of my shirt. I grab the bourbon and knock it back, keeping it in my mouth for a split second before spitting it all over his face and shirt. He takes a step back.
“Fuck!” he roars.
I reach in my back pocket for the smokes. Pulling one out, I light it, taking a long drag as he tries to wipe the alcohol from his eyes. Hearing chairs scrape back and the sound of heavy boots heading my way, I flick the cigarette with a grin of pure evil.
I watch as it lands on his chest, sitting for just long enough to ignite into a blazing fire. Screams escape him as his hair and cheap clothing catch fire quickly.
The door to the tavern opens, and Clutch, Silas, Viktor, Rook, and Talon walk in.
“Jesus, you didn’t say you would be flambéing our dinner tonight.” Clutch smirks.
Hunger lights his eyes, and a predatory snarl radiates from all of them. A grin spreads across my face.
“Grub’s up, boys,” I say, gesturing.
Their eyes alight with the desire to feed. Snarling, they launch themselves with speed, sinking their fangs into necks and flesh. The women scream and run for the door, but I move quickly, halting them in their tracks.
I hold up a large amount of money. “For the inconvenience and your silence,” I say.
They eye the money, then each other, before snatching it from my hand and running out the door.
I turn to slide the lock across, but the door opens, and Shade and Echo enter.
“Prospect is waiting outside to be called in,” Echo says, his eyes insane with hunger as he takes in the chaotic bloodbath before him. His hands are clenched at his sides, and his chest is rising and falling rapidly as he fights to hold back.
“Go feed. I will get him,” I order.
Echo and Shade dive in, and the screams and the cries for help from the dying men are quiet.
I open the door and look out, seeing Diesel standing by the bikes. His jaw is locked tight, and his nostrils flare at the beautiful, intoxicating scent coming from the bar.
I whistle and nod my head for him to come in. His lips curve into a grateful smile.
As he enters, I remind him of the order. “You feed where you are allowed to feed. Only when a brother allows it. You cross the line and become greedy, you will face the full wrath from them.”
There is a pecking order, and it must be respected at all times.
“I understand,” he breathes, his fangs glistening in the now blood-stained light.
“Then feed,” I order, my voice husky with the desire, the need, and the want to feast.
I slowly turn and look around. A sea of torn limbs, blood coating the walls, the ceiling… Every surface is crimson. I snarl as my eyes connect with one man in the corner, hiding like the pathetic pussy he is.
I run to him, my speed pushed to the max, the game of the hunt pushing my vampire abilities. I pick up the large wooden table with one hand and launch it across the room. It collides with the wall, breaking and splintering into pieces.
Cowering before me is a man covering his face, whimpering like a spineless rat.
“Please, don’t hurt me. I mean you no harm. I… I don’t belong with them. I’m just having an innocent drink,” he whimpers.
I reach down, wrapping my hand around his throat, lifting him and pressing his body against the wall, his feet dangling helplessly like a rag doll. His face turns beet red as I squeeze.
