Chapter Five – Lucian
CHAPTER FIVE
LUCIAN
I pace back and forth, my gaze flickering to Talon working on her. She just stopped breathing.
“What the fuck happened?” I growl.
“She’s fine. Bad trip. Gave herself a panic attack and passed out,” he answers, cool and collected.
I’m anything but.
I made it a mission when I started this club that no women or children would be hurt by our hands. I’ve seen firsthand what monsters our kind can be. I can still hear their desperate screams and begging.
“I mean, that truth serum worked, though. She ain’t got nothing to do with the Crawley brothers,” Clutch says.
“She may not know about them, but she thinks we killed her friend, and she’s seen us,” I point out. “Plus, she may have seen something before we arrived. She can’t be trusted.”
“The whole town has seen us,” Clutch shrugs.
“They have not seen us in those situations. There was a sea of dead bodies, not to mention the one we attacked with rotting flesh. She goes free, that’s us under fire.”
Clutch shuts his mouth, knowing I’m right. She’s a threat to us; one word from her mouth could end us all.
She lets out a groan, then gags. Talon rolls her onto her side, where she empties the contents of her stomach.
“She will need to be watched for the rest of the night,” Talon states.
“Don’t look at me. It’s my night to hunt,” Silas says, holding his hands up in surrender.
“It’s mine, too. That’s why I said it,” Talon adds flatly.
“I would, but I can’t be trusted not to want more from the beautiful baby doll,” Clutch says, licking his lower lip.
“She’s barely fucking conscious.” I curl my lip in disgust.
“I’d wait for her to wake, obviously. I ain’t sick. Then I’d charm her. I’m adorable. She wouldn’t be able to resist.” Clutch shrugs.
I inhale a slow breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. “As I can’t hear anyone else volunteering, put her in my fucking bed.”
Talon lifts her in his arms once she’s stopped being sick and silently carries her out of the room.
“Get the prospect to clean this shit up,” I order.
Turning, I light a cigarette and storm out of the room, down the hall, and out into the cold night air. I look up at the clear sky, full of stars.
“We’ve faced worse, you know,” Silas says, coming to stand at my side.
“Yeah, I know. Still don’t make this any fucking easier. If anything, it makes it worse. Those fucking brothers are morons. Fucking morons, and they are out there running circles around us. We should have destroyed them when we had the chance,” I rant.
“Yeah, well, they weren’t an issue then. They only became an issue when they got greedy, crossing into our turf when they knew the boundaries,” Silas breathes out a slow breath. I look at him.
“Why do you do that? You know you can’t see your breath,” I sigh.
He shrugs. “Don’t know. Memories, I guess. Being out on cold nights, not being able to feel my fingers or toes.”
I arch my brow at him. “You miss those times?” I ask in disbelief.
“Yeah, sometimes. They were shit, but I wouldn’t mind feeling the cold—or even the heat—for that matter.” He shrugs.
I clasp my hand on his shoulder. “Out of all the shit you could miss…” I scoff. “Fucking weird fucker,” I tease.
“Ain’t nothing wrong with wanting that,” he laughs after me as I head back inside.
“Didn’t say it was wrong. I said it was fucking weird,” I counter. His laughter echoes behind me as I make my way to my room.
“Early night, is it?” Marko smirks as I pass him.
“Ain’t like that, and you know it.”
“I don’t mind watching her if you need to feed,” he offers.
I stop and give him a look. He raises his hands in surrender.
“I swear, nothing funny. Just… you seem a bit on edge, and maybe a hunt will release that tension.” He shrugs.
That’s not the worst idea.
“When did you last feed?” I ask him.
“At sundown. I’m good,” he assures me.
“I won’t be long. She starts fitting, being sick, anything, call me,” I order.
He nods. I turn to walk back out, but stop just as Marko enters my room.
“And don’t let the prospect anywhere near her,” I add.
“Just go and eat,” he sighs.
Turning on my heel, I walk outside and jump on my bike. I ride into the city. We never hunt in our hometown unless it’s someone lost or injured in the woods. Those are fair game.
I leave my bike outside a dive bar and walk in.
Heads turn in my direction. My eyes survey the scene before me.
The girls are too thin, too young, and unsteady on their feet.
A fat older man sits in a chair in the corner of the room, his hand gripping the young girl’s arm firmly. Her face pinches in pain.
I smirk. The perfect feeding ground.
I pull out my cell and send the others a message:
L: Bar, The Tavern. Back of West Street, city centre. I hope you’re hungry.
Instantly, my cell pings:
S: We are on our way.
M: Bring me back a takeout; you have me salivating.
I smirk and slide my cell back into my pocket. I make my way to the bar.
“Scotch,” I order.
The barman blinks. “We got bourbon or rum,” he says, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. I guess hygiene isn’t their selling point in here. I’ll need to make sure to sanitise once I’ve fed.
“Fine. Whichever has the highest alcohol content,” I say, and chuck down the cash on the bar.
He roughly chucks a glass on the bar and fills two fingers’ worth of bourbon. I nod my thanks and take the glass, bringing it to my nose and smelling it. I sigh. Not quite scotch, but a smoky aroma all the same.
I lick my lips, wanting nothing more than to taste it, to feel the warm burn as I swallow. I exhale a breath and place it back on the bar, keeping it in my hand.
“You ain’t welcome here,” a deep voice rumbles beside me.
I tilt my head to the side and look him up and down. Dirty hands, covered in grease and oil, stains on his T-shirt, an ugly fucking scar along his right cheek under his eye, and a shitty black bandana on his head.
“That so?” I ask casually, swirling the deep amber liquid in my glass.
“It is.” He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. The rose tattoo and the word ‘Mom’ written over it has me fighting back a smile. Such a cliché.
I turn, standing toe-to-toe with him. He has at least three inches on my six-foot-four. I can see why they sent him over to me. Intimidation.
Unfortunately, they’re trying to intimidate the wrong monster.
“Tell me why I wouldn’t be welcome here?” I ask.
“We don’t like outsiders,” he grunts.
“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.
I close my eyes and lean forward, inhaling his scent. Immediately, I smell drugs in his chest pocket. With my other hand, I rip them out.
His eyes go wide as fear and confusion etches across his face. “How did you—?” he gasps, trying to breathe as my grip tightens.
I slide him back down, his feet touching the ground. I release his throat and take a step back.
“Go,” I order.
He blinks in surprise but doesn’t move.
“I said go!” I roar.
His entire body flinches before he takes off in a panicked run past my brothers, who each growl and hiss at him as he passes.
“Run, little piggy, run,” I sneer.
He reaches the door, his panicked, fumbling hands struggling to unlock it. I sprint across the bar, sailing through the air as I attack him from behind. I sink my teeth into the flesh of his neck. His piercing scream reverberates around the bar like a beautiful sound to any vampire.
His blood splatters across the door as I rip and tear into his flesh; drinking, devouring every drop of his blood. I moan as the liquid ecstasy enters my body, fuelling me. I feed until his body goes limp.
I collapse to the floor, still holding him, still feeding from him, gorging in pure gluttony.
“Prez,” Silas calls.
I growl at him as I continue to eat.
“Fuck, when was the last time you fed?” he asks, knowing it’s been a while and that I’ve been surviving on the bare minimum to get by. “You need to stop,” he says. “We need to clear up and get out.”
He crouches down to face me, my eyes hooded as I continue to drain every last drop of blood. I close my eyes and release my fangs from his neck, letting the body fall.
I tilt my head back, my chest heaving as I shut down the urge to continue to feed. I fight to get back control, to regain a hold on the feral desire to drink him dry.
I open my eyes again to see my brothers standing around me, watching, waiting.
“Burn it down,” I breathe.
A slow, menacing grin spreads across Silas’s face as he stands, holding out a hand to me. I take it and get to my feet, each one of us covered in blood.
“Well, you heard him. Let’s burn it,” he repeats my order.
I lift the hem of my T-shirt over my head, using the only clean spot of it to wipe any blood from my face before chucking it on the floor. I stand there bare-chested in my black jeans.
My brothers all do the same as they walk around, pouring spirits everywhere, covering the bodies and furniture.
I make my way to the door.
“Light it up!” I yell over my shoulder as I walk out.
Walking over to my bike, I swing a leg over it and sit, lighting a cigarette.
I inhale as I wait for each of my brothers to leave.
One by one, they come out, plumes of smoke escaping the crack in the door as Silas is the last one out.
He bends the metal handle, meaning it’ll take someone ramming the door to get in.
The rumble of our engines echoes off the city buildings.
“Let’s ride,” I say, leaving death and burning destruction in our wake.