Violent, Volatile #2
I sighed at his failed attempt to fix it. “I’ll be back.” I waved at them both before leaving. When I reached the street, Dennis was waiting in his new car. I got in and shut the door. “Why’re we driving?”
The engine purred to life and he pulled away from the curb.
“We’re going to the bar and I’m feeling lazy. Torturing takes a lot outta you.” He shot me a grin as I grimaced. “I’m kidding. It’s relaxing. But I am feeling lazy and it’s on the other side of town.”
“Like that’s far.” I scoffed. This town is too small for its own good. “Hey, wait a second. That’s by where you killed Kiro, right?”
“No. Well, kinda. I started somewhere else, but I did most of the skinning where more humans go. It’s a lot better that way, y’know what I mean?
” He glanced over to make sure I was following, which I wasn’t at all.
“I decided to leave him out for a while before he’s buried.
Let the breeze blow through his hair one last time.
I thought he might appreciate it. The corpse, I mean. The man is dead.”
“You’re insane.”
“Not really. Legal insanity requires no understanding of or appreciation for the consequences of your actions. A lack of knowing right from wrong when the crime is committed.”
“I didn’t mean legally, and I disagree. You sound completely insane.”
“Well, what’s the fun in killing someone if you don’t leave a trail?” he asked earnestly.
I shivered before deciding to change the subject. “How long have you guys lived here?” I asked the first question that came to mind.
“In the condo?”
“No. The town. It’s kinda weird that I’ve never seen you around since I used to visit all the time. Until I got on probation and house arrest. I couldn’t come after that.” I snuck a peek at him to confirm my fleeting thought: I definitely would’ve remembered seeing him.
“We moved here after college. I’m guessing that’s why you never saw us.” He glanced at me with a smug smile. “You’re really that sure you would’ve remembered me?”
“Stop doing that. I was thinking about myself.”
“You weren’t, but it doesn’t matter. I would’ve heard you either way.”
My mouth dropped as he turned into the bar’s parking lot. “So you can hear me all the time? I knew it!” I undid my seatbelt and scrambled to get out at the same time he did. “Why can you always hear me?”
“Who said I can always hear you?”
“You know what I mean. Not always, but when it’s not about you. You just said you would’ve heard me either way,” I pressed. “So were you lying about only hearing things about yourself?”
“Of course not. I would never lie to you.”
“Denniiis!”
“Viiixenn.” He imitated my whininess, similar to the way he’d taunted me while I was tied up. He took one glimpse at my flushed cheeks and started laughing.
“Leave me alone.” I crossed my arms while we walked. “I’m not used to this.” I kept my eyes on the ground, hoping I would stop blushing and everyone would forget this moment. It was so weird hanging out with a guy after sleeping with him.
“We already talked about this, you know.”
“Talked about what?” I tilted my head and stopped walking.
“You asked how I hear you so often, and I said I think it’s because of your disorder. Your brain wiring is different.”
I racked my brain but came up with nothing. I did not remember a single word of this. “I don’t remember,” I finally said, wondering if he was messing with me. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. We talked about this two nights ago, after your first time hunting.” He waited for any trace of recognition but there was none.
I kept staring, trying so hard to remember the conversation we apparently had, but I had no idea when it happened or what he was even talking about.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s not my fault.
I promise I was listening, I just—sometimes my memory sucks.
Sometimes it’s nonexistent. My doctor calls it bipolar brain fog, I think?
I can’t help it.” I frowned. “I’m sorry. ”
“It’s okay. But I’m pretty sure that’s why. The disorder makes your mind more susceptible, I guess?” He shrugged. “If you forget this tomorrow, I promise I’ll tell you again.” He smiled and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Thank you.” I smiled back, already feeling better.
We resumed walking through the lot, which was surprisingly full of people. The security in front moved aside for us without a word. It felt so fancy. I could get used to this.
“How’re we doing it this time?” I asked once we were inside.
“Take your pick and have fun.”
“You’re not coming with me?” I was confused for a second, but it turned to excitement when he shook his head. “Yay, I get to do it by myself!”
“Not quite. I’ll be close by, just in case.”
“Aw,” I pouted, “I was so excited to go by myself.”
“Be patient. You won’t die from waiting.”
With that, he walked off, heading for the billiards area. I wandered to the bar itself. It seemed ideal to sit and wait for someone to approach me, then take them out back under the guise of a hookup and steal their blood instead. Easy peasy.
“Hi.” Right on cue, a man took the stool beside me.
“Hi.” I smiled brightly, but it faded when his hand perched on my bare thigh. I brushed it away from my shorts with a forced laugh.
“I’m Charles.” He went on like he hadn’t just crossed a boundary.
“Mina.” I went along with it, too. All I wanted was blood. Nothing else mattered.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure,” I said. “You can choose. I’m not picky.”
Charles waved Nate over, who raised an eyebrow at our proximity. It wasn’t my doing; he’d somehow moved closer. “We’ll take two cranberry vodkas,” Charles ordered. Nate made the drinks and took the guy’s card.
“Thank you,” I said it toward both men as my purple nails closed around the glass.
“So,” Charles was eyeing me once again, “if I were to take you on a date, what’s one thing I should know about you? What sets you apart from other women?”
“What in the fuck?” I couldn’t hide my disgust. “That’s a gross question. I’m not answering that.” I took a sip of the drink I already regretted accepting, only to slam it down when he touched my thigh again. “Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” He tried to resist, but I shoved it off with ease.
“You know what you’re fucking doing. Stop touching me.”
“Really?” His tone was incredulous, like I was the one being rude. “I bought you a drink.”
“Alright.” I slid off the stool, snatching his hand when it reached for me again.
“Buying a goddamn drink doesn’t buy you the right to my body.
The next time you touch me without my permission I’m gonna rip your head off and feed it to the nearest animal I find.
” I squeezed his hand until it cracked, then threw it back. “You don’t ever do that again. Got it?”
“Yeah,” he hastily agreed, “I won’t do it again.”
“To any woman?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Good,” I said flatly. “Here’s the drink you bought.
Now fuck off.” He scrambled away, cradling the injured hand and leaving both drinks behind.
I retook my seat and slid both toward myself, content to drink them if his disrespectful ass didn’t want ‘em.
I placed both straws in my mouth before I noticed two men a few stools away staring.
I sipped the drinks, staring right back.
“Can I help you?” I asked around the straws.
“Nope.” The nearest one shook his head. “Not my type. You seem like a bitch.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Did I hurt another sexual harasser’s feelings?
” I asked sweetly. “Contrary to many men’s beliefs, most women don’t care when we’re called a bitch.
You know why? Because it’s usually when we shut down behavior like that.
” I gestured in the direction Charles had scurried off.
“So if you think I’m a bitch, thank you.
I take it as a compliment. I’m glad you realize I don’t want your pathetic, insecure dick—”
“That’s enough.” Dennis pulled me away before I could finish.
The man I’d been going off on was speechless, but his friend was laughing at him. I smiled at that one as I was dragged past.
“Why’d you interrupt? I was having fun.”
“And it was fun to watch, but you should probably go back to anger management.”
“I don’t need that in my life. It was an appropriate reaction.
So many men in this town are trash. The ratio usually isn’t that off between assholes and normal men.
Am I attracting all the shitheads? Is it me?
” I was only half joking, but I stopped when I spotted Charles slipping out the back door with a cigarette in his uninjured hand.
“I’ll be back. I found my meal.” I patted Dennis’ chest before slinking off to follow the trash man outside.
The back door creaked and fell shut behind me, causing Charles to glance up from his smoke.
“Came to apologize?”
I laughed. “Quite the opposite.” I closed the space between us, my mind racing to remember the guidelines so this would go smoothly: don’t drink from the neck, don’t let them go pale, if they’re cold or pulse slows they might be dying, and no anemic people.
I snatched a wrist and bit into it, not bothering to be gentle. The familiar cycle came—seemingly unquenchable thirst, followed by the exhilaration of satisfying it with the sweetest taste.
His body swayed and I caught his weight, not to keep him from getting hurt but only to keep a convenient angle on my meal.
I eased up on the drinking once he began to go cold, then dropped his arm and did a brief inspection.
I was half paranoid I’d killed him without noticing, but his heartbeat and breathing were both steady.
I propped him against the wall in a sitting position, then stepped over his unconscious body and strode back inside.
The thud of the door blended with every other noise in the bar.
No one even glanced my way. I spotted Dennis behind the bar talking to Nate and practically skipped over, eager to bask in my glory. I bounced to a stop in front of them.