Chapter 17 #4
“Flynn, come on, I’m getting hungry.” I always do after hunting. The adrenaline makes me ravenous.
The nameless vampire tries to look at me. And well, wrong move, buddy. “Did I say you could look at her? That you’re allowed to look at what’s mine?” Flynn’s hand ends in the guy’s ribcage. Because of course it does.
The sound is wet and terrible—flesh tearing, bones breaking, the vampire’s scream cutting off into a gurgle. Flynn’s arm is buried up to his elbow in the guy’s chest, and I can see him moving his hand around inside, searching.
“So extra,” I shout, making Flynn laugh.
I can hear the sound of his flesh as he continues to play with his organs.
The wet squelching noises that should make me sick but instead just make me impatient.
“You’re lucky to have lived a life where you got to see her.
” His hand is now on his heart, I know it is.
I can see the vampire’s eyes go wide, can see the moment he realizes what’s about to happen.
“I’ll let you leave this earth with the knowledge that she is not yours to take.
” And with that, he rips the vampire’s muscle out of his chest, his eyes now staring wide open at Flynn.
The heart is still beating in Flynn’s hand, dark blood dripping between his fingers. It’s grotesque and fascinating, and I can’t look away.
“You get to die looking at me—your worst nightmare.” The red-eyed vampire goes limp, and Flynn finally lets the body drop to the ground.
He then drops the heart and steps on it, the squishy sound of the organ makes him chuckle as it splatters everywhere. Blood and tissue spray across the wet pavement, mixing with the puddles of piss.
I grab the fabric napkin I have secured in my cleavage and walk toward my man. “Here, for your hand,” I say, offering him the piece of fabric and a smile.
“I’m sorry,” is what he says as soon as his eyes are on me. He went too far. That’s what he’s thinking. But the reality is that how can I say that he did when I did nothing to stop him?
“I just asked you to come outside and help me kill five of your kind and you’re sorry?”
“I played with him.”
“Yeah, well, me too.”
“I guess you’re right. I just…I don’t like this side of me coming out.”
I nod, understanding. The monster inside him, the one he keeps so carefully controlled, the one that only comes out when I’m threatened. “Are you all right with going back inside?” I say, as I take some potions Cassandra gave me before leaving the country.
The vials are small and glass, filled with a liquid that glows faintly green in the dark. Cassandra’s specialty—potions that burn vampire remains completely, leaving no trace. I pour them over the bodies, watching as they start to smoke.
“Of course,” he replies, grabbing one of my hands and bringing my palm to his mouth. He kisses it gently, his lips soft against my skin. “Time to try this overly sweet punch and dance like the kids do these days.”
The potions start working and turn into a full-on fire.
The flames are green and blue, unnatural colors that cast weird shadows on the alley walls.
The smell of the bodies burning almost reminds me of pork roast. But I don’t say that out loud, because if I do, I might have to be the one apologizing for the very morbid and insensitive take I have on burning bodies.
“You did not just say that,” I finally reply, getting back to the conversation we were having.
“I absolutely did. Don’t displease me, Talulla.”
“You—you would dance with me?” I don’t know why the thought of Flynn dancing in a nightclub with me is so weird. I feel it’s not enough for what we have, but it also makes me stutter, and my chest grows tighter.
“I would dance with you any time you want to.”
“I didn’t think you’d be into…that.”
That’s when his hands cup my cheeks, and he brings his forehead to mine. His skin is cool against mine, and I can smell the blood on him, mixed with his cologne. “I’m into what you’re into, Talulla. You’re my home.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing my breath. Home. After everything, after all the running and the hunting and the violence, I’m his home.
We stand there for a moment, surrounded by the green flames and the smell of burning vampire, and it’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“Come on,” I say finally, pulling back and grinning at him. “Let’s go get that punch. And you’re going to dance with me, birthday boy.”
“As you wish, my red ruby.”
We walk back into the club, leaving the flames to finish their work. The music hits us like a wall, the bass thumping, the crowd writhing. Flynn gets us two cups of the punch—it’s bright red and has gummy worms and plastic eyeballs floating in it, and it tastes like pure sugar and vodka.
And then we dance.
Flynn Lancaster, ancient vampire, monster’s monster, my everything—dancing with me in a crowded Halloween party.
His hands on my hips, my arms around his neck, moving together to the pounding beat.
He’s surprisingly good at it, his movements fluid and natural, and I realize he’s probably been to more parties than I can imagine over his long life.
People give us space, sensing something dangerous about us even if they can’t quite put their finger on what. We’re the vampire hunter and the vampire, the predator and the prey, dancing together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And maybe it is.
“Happy birthday, Flynn,” I shout over the music, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him.
He smiles against my lips, and I can feel his fangs. “Best birthday ever,” he says, and I believe him.
We dance until the club closes, until the lights come up and the music stops and everyone stumbles out into the cold London night. We dance like we’re young and alive and nothing can touch us.
And for tonight, in this moment, maybe we are.