Chapter 2
Two
Killien
Damien seems to be a damn magnet for attention. Entering a crowded room with him makes me feel small, somehow. Kind of insignificant. Silly, I know.
He strolls into the dive bar with his head up high, quickly demanding the entire room’s attention. Heads turn towards him as he cuts through the thick cloud of tobacco smoke, the constant hum of human voices almost vanishing for a second.
The way he carries himself makes him intimidating, though he doesn’t naturally look the part.
His confidence somehow overrides the effect of his angelic face.
The pouty lips, small nose, and doe-like blue eyes make him look like a soft doll.
He’s not precisely tall, and his waist is very defined, but not feminine. Not anymore.
He used to be really skinny, but started gaining muscle when I forced him to work out with me.
I did it just so that he could defend himself, since I can’t be there to protect him all the time.
Now, after the vampire blood, he’s gained a lot more definition without doing much.
But that seems to be the norm. I also noticed changes in my body at first.
Damien stops walking suddenly and I almost bump into him, my feet slipping on the grimy floors.
I was too busy staring at the way he keeps his shoulders wide, flexing his muscles underneath the black tank top that covers nothing.
He loves to wear the kind that are a bit oversized and open at the sides, basically showing everything when he moves around.
“Wanna sit at the bar or at a table?” he asks, looking at me over his shoulder with a little smirk.
“You choose.” I shrug. All eyes are on us and I can feel my hands starting to get sweaty.
Ugh. I fucking hate this.
Damien’s hair sways as he faces the crowd again, spreading his scent around.
Sweet and overpowering, it reminds me of the smell of honey with a slight minty undertone.
The humans that stand close by pick it up just as much as I do, even if they aren’t truly aware of it.
I follow him to the bar and watch him hop gracefully on a scuffed wooden stool, performing for the small audience that surrounds us.
I don’t know how he manages it, the fucker.
It’s like they’re all hypnotized by him.
I don’t have to hop on the stool, fortunately, so I just sit next to him, pretending that I don’t notice the intensity of the stares.
Some eyes have decided to set on me now, which only makes me more uncomfortable.
I adjust my black T-shirt to make sure it’s covering the small of my back, and force my shoulders back.
I’m usually not insecure; I left that behind in my childhood years.
I’m used to being responsible and acting with as much confidence as I can muster.
That has helped me a lot through the years of hardship, since we ran away from Salt Lake County.
It’s just this new version of my brother that makes me feel awkward, I think.
“Want a beer?” he asks, placing his left elbow on top of the scuffed wooden bar, leaning on it slightly. “I know I want one.”
“Yeah, sure.”
The bartender is already getting us beers, and Damien hasn’t even ordered them.
That’s the kind of effect he has on people.
The guy has been pretending to wipe away the old marks on the discolored wood, staring at him since we stepped into the bar, and paying close attention to his every move.
Kinda desperate, if you ask me. At least other people around us have resumed their conversations, and not as many eyes linger on us.
Damien rolls his left lip ring with his tongue, a kind of tick he’s acquired since getting those done.
Sometimes I miss his innocent face without all the hardware.
Not that I have anything against piercings, but they make him look kind of .
. . wild. Which is exactly what he’s going for.
It’s part of the intimidating image he projects to the world.
“You’re choosing tonight,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at me. “I’m kinda bored of doing all the work, you know?”
I huff out a short laugh. “Fine, leave it to me.”
Sure, he’s been doing all the hunting because he barely needs to put in any effort. I was pretty certain he also enjoyed it a lot. I can do it too, of course. Maybe just as flawlessly as he can.
Not that I’m looking to impress him. I’m definitely not.
We chill for a little while, chatting about whatever nonsense he comes up with. I like letting him carry the conversation, honestly. I’m not that much of a talker, and he’s the kind of guy who won’t shut up. We complement each other like that.
At least we’ve finally blended into the crowd of the small, dingy bar, dimly lit with warm bulbs and colorful neon signs hanging on the dark walls.
Still, anyone who walks by takes a peek at Damien, and he poses like a model for them.
Back almost arched, legs spread wide, taking space and attracting attention to his slender but toned thighs.
Why am I looking at his thighs?!
I force my eyes back to his face, biting the inside of my cheek as anxiety creeps in. Damien was staring right at me, but quickly glances elsewhere. The left corner of his lips curls up just a little bit.
Fuck, he noticed.
That can’t be good. I don’t want him to think I’m a pervert or something.
“Gonna pick someone, Killi?” He takes a sip of his half-empty beer, the clinking of glasses and hum of voices seeming louder than usual as I stare at him.
I nod, forcing my eyes back to the bottle I’ve barely touched.
Alcohol has repulsed me since we were turned; it just sits in my stomach making me feel sick until I throw it all up.
Not that I was much of a drinker before, anyway.
Damien seems to process things a bit better. He can hold it a lot longer.
Maybe being a vampire suits him better than it does me . . .
But I have to stop thinking about him all the time. I must.
This is going off the rails.
My attention turns to the crowd around us. There are a bunch of attractive people to choose from. Not that appearance matters, since we’re just going to feed. Although, I could use an attractive girl to keep my mind off Damien.
In a corner of the bar, a blonde girl leans against the wall, almost glowing under the red light of the neon sign beside her.
She looks bored as fuck, staring at her phone with a cigarette in her right hand.
The people around her are either ignoring her, or simply don’t know her.
She’s pretty, yes. About Damien’s height, curvy, with generous boobs showing off from the deep cleavage of her black top.
The denim skirt she’s wearing seems a bit too short, exposing her thick thighs covered in fishnet stockings.
She’s definitely my type.
I can feel Damien’s eyes on me, and I know the devilish grin that sits on his face without even looking. He’s reading my level of attraction to the girl, I suppose. He does that a lot. Only God knows why.
“Wait here.” I slide off the stool, making it creak under my weight, and slowly walk towards her.
As I get closer, her thoughts open up to me like a soft murmur. I stand close by, staring at my own phone while I dig through her mind.
“Fuck, I lost the target,” she thinks to herself. “Ron is not gonna like this . . . I better tell him to start looking for someone in another bar or he’s gonna have my head.”
She types on her phone while smoking, visibly nervous. What kind of target was she talking about? Humans are so deceiving. She looks all cute and innocent, but I can sense something dark in her. After a few seconds of texting, she sighs heavily and scans the crowd.
“How the hell did I get so distracted?” Her fingers twitch as she shakes her head, disappointed in herself. “I’m lucky Pat caught someone a few blocks away and Ron’s busy now. But, once again, I’m not getting paid. And nobody’s gonna pick me up. Fuck my life.”
Great. She’s alone. I’m a bit proud of myself for picking a perfect prey right away. I slide my phone into my pocket and take out a cigarette instead. A habit that comes in handy, because it’s the easiest way to start a conversation. At least it can’t kill me now.
I push myself off the wall and walk right towards her. She’s prettier up close. Like, really pretty. Her eyes are bright green, and her skin looks naturally bronzed. I almost don’t want her to die. But it can’t be helped; the hunt is on.
“Got a light?” I ask her.
The girl glances up at me, her expression shifting from a deep frown to a seductive smile. I can’t help but smile back.
“Yeah, sure.” She looks through her purse and hands me a lighter. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I place the cigarette between my lips, paying close attention to the way her eyes linger on them.
My movements are slow and deliberate, seductive. I want her to want me. Which she clearly already does, anyway. She’s been smelling of arousal since the moment her eyes landed on me. I light the cigarette and place the borrowed object back in her hand, making sure to touch her skin.
“No problem.” Her heart is racing as she stares at me take a puff of the cigarette and pull it away from my lips.
“Are you alone?” I ask, casually taking a look around her, as if I’ve just noticed that there’s no one with her.
“Yeah—” Her expression shifts to annoyance for a second. “I was just leaving.”
“Wanna hang out with me and my friend?”
She seems shocked by my question. Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. I give her my best smile, but it’s not even forced. I find her really attractive, and my body responds to her scent with ease. She’s gonna taste so good.
“Okay, I had nothing else to do, anyway.” She shrugs, as if she wasn’t that interested, but her smile totally gives her away. Cute.
I take her hand, which makes her smile widen, and guide her through the crowd. Her thoughts are a whole lot of scrambled blabber. Something about her asshole boss and how she should have never gotten involved with this shit in the first place. Whatever it is, sounds dangerous.
“That took a while,” Damien jokes as I approach him. “I thought you were never coming—” He stops talking when I step to the side and reveal the girl behind me. He’s really fucking good at pretending to be surprised. “Oh—you made a friend!”
And the Oscar goes to . . . Damien Moore!
The girl’s mind goes blank the moment she sets eyes on Damien. She tries to hide it with another nervous smile, but she’s obviously shocked as hell.
“Two hot guys on my worst night ever? Not possible,” she thinks. “If I can’t snatch someone from this bar for Ron, at least I can have a bit of fun.”
“Who’s our new friend, Killi?” Damien asks, offering her his best innocent and warm smile.
“I’m Clara.” She bats her eyelashes at my brother.
“Nice to meet you, Clara. I’m Damien.” He gestures at the wooden stool beside him, which was previously my spot.
“How rude of me—” I laugh as I guide her to the stool and take the one to her right, leaving Clara between me and Damien. “I never told you my name. I’m Killien.”
Our prey doesn’t know where to look first; she’s hungry for us both. Soon Damien has her cackling to his silly anecdotes. His allure is obviously pulling on her like an invisible string, causing her eyes to take in every single inch of his body.
He orders Clara a drink of her choice, which she gladly accepts. The bartender hands it to Damien with the most obvious seductive look I’ve ever seen, sliding the glass across the dented wooden surface of the bar. There’s a piece of paper hidden between his fingers, surely with his phone number.
Goddammit. Are you that desperate, dude? Let him be.
Not that I care, though.
While Clara is entertained replying to a text, Damien softly takes the paper from the bartender’s hand.
The way he looks at the man makes my heart skip a beat.
Which shouldn’t happen. At all. But I can’t help noticing Damien’s tongue flicking over his lower lip, moving his piercings slightly.
And the way he tilts his head up at the bartender, inviting him in.
I almost want to push Clara out of the way and lean closer to Damien. Why? I’ll be damned if I know.
Fuck.
Fucking fuck!
I take a deep breath and force my eyes away from the scene. I’m not turned on by it. In the slightest. I don’t care what Damien does with that guy—I don’t wanna see.
Once the bartender is back to doing his job instead of flirting with my brother, Damien resumes the conversation with Clara. As if nothing ever happened. He’s too good of a liar, the fucker. And I’m still struggling to collect myself.
I don’t like the things that are happening to me. I’m not okay with these feelings, at all.
It takes a while for me to unwind again, but Damien does a great job at keeping Clara busy while she sips on her drink. Her mind is a mess of desire for both of us, as if she simply can’t choose who she likes the most. We have her right where we need her.
“Hey, Clara . . .” Damien leans closer to her, his voice turning almost too soft to hear between the constant hum of voices, clinking of glasses, and rock music in the background. “Wanna come with us?”
“Uh—” She giggles and tries to hide her smile with the half-empty glass. “Where to?”
“I dunno—we can hang out in our car, watch the stars or something.” Damien moves just a little bit closer, brushing his knee against her thigh. He rolls his lip ring with his tongue, which Clara can’t take her eyes off.
Me either, apparently.
For fuck’s sake.
Our prey pretends to be thinking about it for a few seconds, her eyes darting across the crowd and the dark walls. She has already made her decision, though. We let Clara play her game until she finally nods.
Easy peasy.